The Silence is Over [Silence of the Lambs]

Five

Ding dong!
I rang the bell of the Martins house, and stepped back, wringing my hands together with worry.

What will this night hold?
Can I even handle this?

My therapist, the one given to me by the station, that required for one month after every agents traumatic case is actually the one who suggested that it might be best if I close myself off to any reminders of the case. Any reminders of the skinning, the photos, the girls, the pit, Bill, and Catherine. I took to it and stayed away, and it got better, but then I started having the random flashbacks and dreams and my head....

Stop Starling, or they'll put you in the crack house!

I shook my head to clear my thought and smiled when Catherine's mom, Senator Ruth Martin, opened the door.
"Catherine!" She drawled, a southerner in a northern town like myself said.
She welcomed me in and took my coat.
" Mrs. Martin, thank you for inviting me." I said, smiling warmly through my nerves.
"Oh, Catherine, you know it's Ruth to you, and-"
She looked at me with a half smile.
"It's Ms. Martin now, I'm afraid."
"Oh! Well, I'm sorry, man, if I offended you-"
"You did nothing of the sort!" Ruth said waving my apology off.
"He decided it was best to let us cope after," She gestured at the topic we both knew she meant, but obviously wasn't going to speak of.

"On our own, and well, here we are!" She shrugged her shoulders, a smile upon her face.
"Oh, but don't speak of it to Catherine, She gets rather upset about either of those topics, considers the after effects of the-" she looked at me.

"Well, you know what I mean."
I looked down grimly, and nodded.

"But anyway, look at me, babbling about! I want to know about you! How have you been?" Ruth asked, and I grimaced inwardly at the question.

Luckily I didn't have to answer, because Catherine chose that time to walk down the stairs.
" Catherine! How nice of you to join us! I was just telling Clarice-"
" Oh mother, please don't bore her, Clarice is our guest after all." Catherine said, her voice as cold as ice.

I looked up at her, and gasped in horror.
She looked...terrible, reminding me of the small Holocaust survivors in the documentaries I watched in a high school.

Ruth, seeing my face, turned to me in earnest, touching my arm to reassure me.
"Oh it's not as bad as it looks!" Her voice chirpy and positive.
"She just decided to cut back what she eats and—work out a lot. She's been working really hard on changing more of her mindset than her body though, just like the psychiatrist said, isn't that right honey?" Ruth said nervously, turning to Catherine, who was rolling her sunken in eyes at her mother.

I couldn't take my eyes of her....it was just so....bad.

I silently thanked God for at least giving me peace of mind about my body.

But who could blame her?

Bill had chosen his victims wisely, picking the women who were, erm, a little larger than others, raped them, starved them, and when their skin sagged neatly off their bones, killed them. He skinned them and sewed the skin together, attempting to create the perfect female body skin for himself.

And by choosing Catherine, not because she was a Senators daughter and wanted the ransom, she was going to die anyway if we hadn't found her (and that's the honest truth) but because she was larger.

Looking at her now, you would have never guessed it was the same woman.

She looked close to the girl I rescued in the pit that day, only cleaner of course.

Her ribs poked out of her shirt, visible in the living room light. Her face, cheek bones sharp, jutted along, leading a perfect line to her sunken in eyes and small mouth. I would have been surprised if she has eaten in the last month.

It was...shocking.

I was speechless.

I looked away, my face heating up with guilt and embarrassment.
If I had kept my word and helped them through it, would she look this bad?
Would she had starved herself and worked out to the point of being dangerously underweight?
God why can't I do anything right?

"Let's eat dinner, shall we?" Ruth said, nodding to Catherine.
"I'll go get it out of the oven." Catherine offered and scampered off.
" Do you see why she needs you now?" Ruth whispered viciously.
I nodded my head, keeping my eyes down.
"You left her, left both of us, when we needed you most, and even her father turned his back on us." She spat.
"Eyes up girl," she snapped, and my head jerked up, eyes meeting hers.
Ruth looked older than I remembered, like she gained 15 years in only 1 year.
"I-I'm sorry, Ruth. Truly." I stammered.
"Well prove it then. She needs you. Do you know how long I have seen her refuse meals, only to work out harder than ever when she does eat?" She said in a whisper scream.
Her face was red, with tears in her eyes.
This was a mother that had gotten her daughter back physically but not mentally.
I let my breath go slowly as I imagined this.
Small, frail Catherine refusing meal after meal just because she's afraid she'll end up back like she was.
"I found her one day, fallen from the shower, passed out cold because she hadn't eaten anything for three days and her body was hating her." Ruth said, wringing her hands.
"You know what she did after she came to and I told her what had happened?"
I shook my head but took a wild guess anyway.
"Ate?"
Ruth smiled a sad smile.

"Yes, she ate. She ate for the first time in three days, but she only ate 1/2 cup of iceberg lettuce."
I lowered my eyes at the seriousness of this.

"And do you know what the worst part is? It would be different If she was truly trying to eat better and lose weight as a healthy option, but she's not. She's stopped eating and working out more and more each day. That's all she does. Doesn't even get out of the house. She's afraid of what will happen if she goes back to normal. Afraid of her weight. Afraid of the same events happening again just because she was a little bigger than the other girls. She's afraid of him, still." Ruth looked at me dead in the eyes, hands out, pleading.

"Clarice, please. Please do something. You both went through the same thing. Please help my girl. My Catherine."

I licked my lips and was about to form words when Catherine called, "It's getting cold, ladies, come on!"
Ruth looked in the direction Catherine's voice had come, then back at me.
I nodded grimly and walked to the dinner table.

- - -
Later that night, I was laying in bed, and I couldn't help but think about Catherine. So small, so frail. Her mother distraught and frightened.
And me?
I was seen as a traitor to them.
Someone who said they would be there then vanished.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes.
"Somethings got to be done." I murmured.

I will help Catherine, there's no doubt about it, she needs it.
But so do you, my mind tells me
Yes.
But so do I.

Later, I come to the conclusion:
I can help Catherine recover, and maybe she can help me too.
Together.