To Skin A Lamb

22

CHARITY

Over the next two weeks, I played the mom role. I got my younger sisters ready for school and helped my brother start applying to colleges.

I made sure that our mama was eating enough food and getting enough rest because it turns out that she has been stressed out and sending a load of bullshit in the letters. She hadn't been doing too good. So I was happy that I was able to help her out until she felt better.

I thought of Terrance every single day. I wrote him a letter explaining what happened and that I was doing okay.

And the truth is... I am doing more than okay.

I walked around with confidence like no other. It turns out I was uptight because I was always looking over my shoulder, waiting for something bad to happen.

After mama found out about Troy, she cried. She cried for a really long time and said, "I wish that I could have protected you from what I experienced when I was a child."

Then I started crying. Hard.

She immediately signed me up for therapy, which I didn't like at first, but now I have a personal diary that is forced to listen to me twice a week. It didn't seem so bad.

My therapist, Alexas, is pretty good at what she does. She doesn't overstep, always listens, and gives me advice without making it optional.

I learned that she is pretty effective too. When I went to my local grocery store, I ran into Mr. Banks who had run the store since I was a young girl. He stared at me for a very long time when I entered the store.

"What?" I asked with raised brows and a tiny smile.

"There she is." was all he said and when I pressed him about it, he nodded his head and continued his word puzzle.

Later I learned what he was talking about when my Aunt told me that I had the glimmer in my eyes that I used to have when I was a child. A sense of freedom, and mischief wrapped into one.

Now make no mistakes, I still handled business accordingly. My sorority sisters told me that I was still all business when I presided over the first meeting of the semester and the volunteers at the Food Bank still trembled a bit when they messed up something that was obvious and that a toddler would properly complete. I still had it in me and I loved every second of it.

But the light that had simmered down in the depths of darkness returned and it felt damn good to be back.

The news about what Troy did circled around town. Small towns were unfortunate like that. Nothing stayed private for too long and Troy should have anticipated that. But he was too cocky and thought that his luck would last forever. Turns out... it didn't.

I heard through the grapevine that he was going through hell in prison. I thought it would bring me comfort, but it just made me really sad. When one of the locals whispered that he was getting a taste of his own medicine, I felt sick to my stomach. His rape and torture didn't give me any satisfaction. At all. Quite the opposite. It kept me up at night. Everyone deserves the right to say no to something being done to their bodies and I learned that the hard way.

My Aunt Jessa told me that he asked to see me in jail. My lips formed to say yes, but my mind knew better. I declined and didn't say a word about it again. My poor aunt was going through a difficult time because of course the town wasn't kind to her because they assumed she knew. It was to my dismay that they were right.

It was not even a full week since I returned from Chiapas when I found her outside on the front porch crying. Like any good niece, I sat down by her side and tried to provide her some comfort.