What the Hart Wants

Tears suddenly fell into an all out storm.
Mucus and tears washed down my face, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. It was a like a dam had erupted and all anyone could do was simply just let it pour.
The bell for next period rang somewhere in there, but Mrs. Buckley had laid a gentle hand on my shoulder, “You can skip it,” she whispered, letting me continue on with my onslaught of emotional turmoil.
I don’t know when I was able to stop, nor do I really know where the tissues came that cleaned my face up came from, but I was ready to let it all go. Even if nothing could be done for me, if I was still to be controlled by that pig of a man, I’d take it just to leave my uncle and aunt.
“I-” I gasped, trying to gain some control over my breathing. “I don’t want-want to get married,” I finally said feeling as if the whole world was lighter.
Her face played several emotions: humor, confusion, and finally setting on determination. “You don’t have to get married,” she said finally, producing a small box of tissues.
I gave a nod, “May seventeenth.”
Her face fell. There was no humor, nor any confusion now on her face. “What do you mean?” she asked.
I thought carefully of what I was about to say, weighing the pros and cons that would happen because of this. He will hurt you, being the most stubborn of thoughts. Tenderly touching my bottom lip, wincing with pain I made up my mind.
I told her everything about the church. Unable to keep myself from spilling everything. It was a faucet and I had no way of keeping it all in anymore.
Once I was done I tried to gauge her reaction, finding the once easily to decipher face blank and void of emotion.
Fear sunk in, she didn’t believe me. She was going to believe the Pats, and I would have to suffer through the consequences.
I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be invisible more than that minute. What else was I suppose to do? I was stuck in this and there was nothing left. Uncle Pat and his cruel hands as he tore away my clothing, evil Aunt Patty as she chuckled gaily at the humiliation. My neck was sore and my lip felt awkwardly huge.
Pastor Peters- or Tom, would hit me when I did wrong. He would keep food from me if I gained weight in the slightest, he would rape me. My body and my soul would be for his using.
I wonder how long I would last?
Panic set in, as my heart boomed deep in my heaving chest. My breath was uneven and quick, more like gasps being pulled into my lungs. Oh gawd, did I really put myself in this mess?
Why did I say anything? Why?
Why?
The word chanted in my brain as I rocked back and forth my head between my knees. Why didn’t she believe me, why did my parents have to die. Why me?
“Lorelei,” her voice calm and soothing, “Lorelei,” she whispered again, drawing me out of my panic attack. “Lorelei, I believe you,” she whispered.
My head snapped up, “You do?” I asked, hope building up in me.
She gave a curt nod, “I do.” she assured, her two little words solid and firm. “Is your fiancé the one who gave you the fat lip and the,” she took a pause, and uncomfortable nudge to my neck, “and those bruises?”
“No, I mean yes, he gave me the fat lip, I spoke back to him and he back handed me.” My tongue traveled across my puffy lip gently, as if trying to heal the wound. “My uncle did the neck, when he,” I paused, trying not to have another break down, “when he tore my clothes.” I failed, I quickly batted away the escaping tears.
Silence circled awkwardly in the room, like a vacuum sucking out all the air, making the silence just that much more dominant. It took several moments, maybe even minutes before either one of us could face each other eye to eye.
“What can I do?” I asked, gaining the courage to ask the most leading question in my head.
“Well, that’s an easy question. You do nothing,” she answered standing up and walking around her desk before wrapping me in a hug. “I will handle everything and get you out of there. All you have to do is tell the truth.” She reached for her phone, “Now where does your Uncle work?”
“The new Rite Aid building, he’s one of the construction people.”
“Good.” She answered, “Now I would like you to stay in here, while I call the police,” I gasped and she gave me a small smile. “The abuse is impossible to ignore and if we do this now, there is better chance of them taking it seriously.” She quickly dialed the number before giving me a poignant look, “I’m not going to give anyone time to make something up. Just stay put and I’ll be right back.” She quickly spoke into the phone and then left the room.
I was finally going to be free!
I think I love the Buckley family, I thought as I tried to stretch out my sore neck.
“Yeah, we are pretty awesome,” I snapped my neck trying to get a view of who had interrupted my joyous stretching freedom time…?
Jeffery stood there, holding out a cherry Pepsi for me. I accepted, wiping my face a tad bit more.
“Oh don’t worry, you’ve got nothing on your face.” He answered, “I thought I’d get you a soda while we waited on my mom,” he took a seat opposite of me. “I’ve gotta score some cash from her or my life will be ruined,” he said with mock sincerity.
I made no remark, just looked at those warm brown eyes. He must have seen something in mine because he quickly apologized.
“You know your hair is rather amazing,” he said, breaking the slight silence that fell. “Like a fro but less fro-ish.” I gave a chuckle at that, giving him a smile. “See there, made you smile,” he held out his hand, “I’m Jeff Buckley.”
“Lorelei Hart,” I answered, finding myself a bit more comfortable with everything. “Sorry for,” I motioned to myself, “for you know,” I took a sip, trying to think of the right term to use, “being a mess.”
“Are you kidding me,” he said happily, “I’m normally bawling my eyes out by fourth period anyways, so thanks for taking the torch on that one.”
“You’re welcome,” I said with a sniffle, finally feeling free-ish. “Next time it’s all you though.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal there Lorelei Hart.”