Nameless

Chapter 8

"No, Jim. I'm fine, really."
Jim thought I was mad at him for not taking me home.
"Okay Annie, I just don't want you to be mad at me."
"Why would I be mad at you though?"
"I know I've been acting really different around you lately and.. well.."
Here it comes. The break up speech. I'd only been through it once and that was in eighth grade. The whole 'it's not you, it's me,' thing played a big role in that "relationship."
If Jim broke up with me now, I don't know if I'd be able to take it.
"I think we should take it a step further in our relationship."
"What?"
"I think we should go further. We've been dating for over three months now, and we never show any PDA like Paul and Jenna."
"That's because Paul and Jenna make out every time they see each other." I say, still in awe over Jim's words.
"Exactly! I don't want to make out every time we see each other, but a little peck on the cheek in public couldn't hurt." He chuckles into the phone.
"Can you come over?" I say so abruptly that I'm even surprised.
"Now? I mean.. yeah I guess." Jim was just as surprised as I was.
"Okay. Just come up to my room when you get here."
"Okay."
I needed him here. I was so stressed out about the whole Molly Slaten thing, and getting into Harvard Law was not the easiest task in the world.
****
One thing I did notice about all of the newspaper clippings my father had was that they were all old and worn away. He most likely found.. well, most likely took them when the papers first came out.
The victims were all girls.
Blonde-haired, blue eyed girls.
Just like me.
What was so special about blue-eyed, blonde haired girls?
I heard a knock at the balcony doors in my room, which were covered by white silk curtains. I grabbed the right doorknob and flung the skinny door open.
"Dad?"
---------------------------

"..and the only other aspect of that night that I remember is being his over the head with a sharp object, your honor."
Mr. Armstrong rose to his feet.
"Ms. Darringer, are you sure you were hit? There seems to be no physical proof, I'm afraid."
Harold Armstrong, the cockiest mother fucker a person could meet. He walked so darringly, and so confidently, it would make you want to punch him square in the mouth. His pale, soft, green eyes are deceiving, but not for me. I'm not easily fooled.
"Oh, I apologize Mr. Armstrong. The physical proof is on the inside. I had a fractured skull and bruising on my right temple, from which the doctor said was from some sort of impact."
My skull healed last April, but the medical expenses and records clearly state that I had a severe head injury and cases of memory loss. It all came back eventually. At least, I think it did.
"Is the doctor in this room, Ms. Darringer?"
"Yes, he is right over there. Doctor James Reilly."
Mr. Armstrong raised his arms as if he were surrending.
"No further questions, your honor. "
He walked back to his seat formally, yet smugly. God, I hated him.
"Would Ms. Darringer's attorney like to question?" Judge Underwood was probably the most undeniably fierce person I knew. She walked with sass and a hint of ass. She wore only a bit of makeup, and was still in her thirties. But boy, could she win a fight.
"Yes, your honor."
My attorney stood up and quickly walked over to the stand.
"Ms. Darringer, may I ask a severe question?"
"Of course, that's what you're here for, sir."
"Were you raped by Mr. Darringer?"
"OBJECTION!" Harold screamed.
"Mr. Terrence, please keep these questions a little more ordinary."
My attorney's question had been overruled.
God damn it.
"How long have you known Mr. Darringer?" My attorney continued.
"About twenty years or so. "
"Twenty years.. enough time for a young girl to grow up, huh?"
"Yes, I suppose. " I nervously replied back.
"So, which one of these girls had to grow up before you got the picture?"
He was taunting me. He knew I was the girl who grew up. He knew exactly who I was.
"I had to grow up, sir."
"You? Oh, no. That couldn't be! Mr. Darringer claims he never touched or took any of these now women. "
I didn't respond. Mr. Terrance continued.
"Well, Ms. Darringer, you sure seem to have quite the package there."
He pointed to my pregnant stomach.
"Yes, sir I do."
"Were you raped, Ms. Darringer?"
Judge Underwood stood up.
"Mr. Terrance, I'm going to have to ask you to sit down. You may ask that question when we have more evidence toward this case. Brief recess, 40 minutes. "
She slams her gavel down as I struggle to get up with my huge pregnant body before me.
--
I woke up hanging upside down in the basement of my house with a throbbing pain in my head. What the fuck was I doing in here?
I tried to yell, but I couldn't. All of my blood must have been rushing to my head. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. Then it hit me.
Where the hell was Jim?