Teri Woods: True To The Game III

The third book in the True to the Game series, 2008

Mom, Corel, Jessica, Chuck, Dexter, Carl, Brenda, Lucas, Brandon, and my girlfriend, Kashan.

Oh yeah, my secretary, Tracy.

Thanks.

February 18, 1991

Gena slowly tried to open her eyes, feeling pain beyond belief throughout her entire body. She was bruised from her head to her toes. She looked around the room, not quite realizing where she was. At first, she had thought she was in a hospital, lying in a bed. But, as time passed, she realized she wasn’t. The room’s décor was unlike any hospital décor that she had ever seen. Her head, left arm, rib cage, and left thigh were all bandaged. She could barely open her bruised and blackened eyes. She couldn’t pull herself out of the bed without feeling agonizing pain. Her body felt sore and she needed rest. Her only assurance that she was safe was that she was being taken care of by a nurse and a doctor. She felt the nurse near her bedside constantly and could overhear the nurse talking to the doctor in the distance. She sang to her, she read to her, and she talked to her. The kind and loving nurse fed Gena and gave her pain medication and sleeping pills. She closed her eyes again.

Gena rested her body and mustered her strength as the weeks passed. Early one morning, Gena awoke to a ruckus outside her bedroom door. The sound of voices filled the tiny hallway. Startled but not afraid, Gena looked around the room. It was intricately designed, with a touch of sophistication; Gena did not recognize anything. Where am I? She couldn’t help but begin to wonder. She decided to make finding the answer to that question her life’s mission. Ready to move around, Gena rose from the king-size bed that she had been lying on. There was a breeze blowing through an open window, she noticed, as the soft silk panels were billowing gently with the air. She could smell the sweet fragrance of flowers wafting through the window. She mustered up as much strength as she could, desperately wanting to know where she was.

Gena clasped one of the bedposts and made her way to the bottom of the four-poster bed. From there she threw her wobbly legs forward and grabbed hold of a nearby accent chair. She braced herself using the arms of the chair, and then carefully made her way around it, until she was able to grab onto a nearby dresser. Using the dresser as a support, she slowly made her way to the open window, where she was finally able to peer outside and get a glimpse of her surroundings.

She was on the second floor of what appeared to be a home. She could see very large homes all around her. Steeply pitched slate- and granite-tiled roofs and well-manicured backyards with massive swimming pools and tennis courts filled her view. She peered down into the backyard just below her and found an equally large swimming pool and adjacent tennis court, along with the fragrant garden that had attracted her attention initially. The azaleas, roses, Russian sage, gardenias, and other flora spread throughout the landscape painted it in rich hues of blue, red, white, yellow, green, and purple. Where the hell am I?

Gena turned toward the dresser and pulled open the first drawer, only to find it empty. She moved on to the second drawer, to find it in the same state. The third, fourth, fifth, and sixth dresser drawers were also empty. She was in a guest bedroom, and there were no secrets kept here. She turned and spied two doors on the opposite side of the room. One she surmised to be a closet, while the other would have to be the guest bathroom. Hoping that the closet or the medicine cabinet would reveal something, she made her way across the room toward them. She had regained her equilibrium and was doing quite well moving around the room.

Gena opened the first door to find a row of plastic clothes hangers facing her. There was nothing on the shelves, nothing stored at the bottom of the closet, nothing period. Disappointed, she turned her attention to the next door. She had been correct in her assumptions, as the second door was to the guest bathroom. Gena braced herself on the door handle and stumbled inside. She held on to the bathroom sink and yanked open the medicine cabinet. Nothing.

“Dammit!” Gena cursed. She was growing frustrated with each passing moment. She was in a luxurious prison, all alone and wounded. She couldn’t run away if she tried. Her entire body was one big ache and pain. Think, Gena, she told herself. Think. What do you remember? What do you remember?

Gena thought long and hard as she slowly made her way back to the massive four-poster bed, where she lay down again. Where am I and who brought me here? She started to think back and remembered Jerrell. We were in a motel. It was then she remembered going into the bathroom and looking in the duffel bag Jerrell had under the sink. She remembered the duffel bag full of money, and the rope, the bottle of acid, buckets of cement, the metal handcuffs, and chains. Jerrell had taken her to a motel room where he had tried to kill her. She remembered fighting him. Yes, I remember, but then what? What happened? Did I trip or fall or something? No, I was running for the door when he grabbed me, and then…? At first Gena could not recall, then she slowly began to remember. The gun. Someone shot Jerrell and saved me, or was it Jerrell who fired the gun?

Who had done the shooting and who got shot? Did Jerrell shoot someone? He was trying to kill me and now he must have me here, holding me hostage. What the hell does he think he’s doing? It doesn’t even make sense. If he was going to kill me, why didn’t he just go ahead and do it? Someone else must have saved me, but who? None of this makes any sense at all.

Nothing added up. She was bandaged but had no idea who had treated her wounds. She was somewhere, but didn’t have a clue where, and she was definitely in someone’s house, but again, had no idea whose. She had been in and out of consciousness, but had no idea for how long. Someone’s obviously been taking care of me, she thought. Someone had bandaged her up, given her medicine, fed her, and kept her clean. Someone had expended a lot of effort to heal her and care for her. But who?

Gena leaned back and closed her eyes, and her tears began to fall. Her mind had granted her an additional memory from that night, one that she knew could not be true. She had dreamed that Quadir was alive. She was barely conscious, but it all seemed so real at the time. Her Quadir had rescued her from that monster, and carried her off to safety. If only it could be true.

Gena clutched her stomach and curled into a ball on the bed. It was then that she remembered the visit with her OB/GYN.

“Congratulations, you’re going to have a baby,” Dr. Amerson said joyfully, smiling from ear to ear at the other end of the examining table.

A baby, my baby. She couldn’t help but think of the unborn child she was carrying as she rubbed her belly. She was in a dire predicament. That’s right, I was going to tell him about the baby, she thought to herself, remembering how nervous she was and how she couldn’t wait to hear what he would say. She had been hoping that Jerrell would be pleased with her and happy for the both of them. She was so ready to be with him and be a family. How could I have been so dumb? He didn’t love me; he didn’t even care about me. He was trying to kill me. Gena couldn’t believe it. She was carrying the child of a man who had tried to kill her, fantasizing about a man who had been dead now for almost a year.