Laura Drake - Against The Odds

It wasn’t just his body that took up room, either. She could feel attitude rolling off him. With a furtive twitch of her hips, she scooted her chair an inch farther away.

The chair tips made a loud screech across the tile.

His big head swiveled her way. Under heavy brows, his eyes were a dusky shade of chocolate brown. And not angry at all. In fact, she saw more curiosity than animosity. And pain. Those eyes had seen more than they wanted to. She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew it sure as her mother’s rules of deportment.

She continued her study. His big forearms rested on his thighs. On the back of one was a tattoo. She recognized the eagle and anchor, but in the center, where the globe should be, were the crosshairs of a rifle scope. A shiver shimmered through her.

“Well, let’s get started, shall we?” Bina’s voice broke into her thoughts.

Realizing she was staring, Hope looked away fast, her face hot enough to be glowing. She scrubbed her palms over her dress slacks, crossed her feet and tucked them under her chair.

“The last time we talked a bit about why each of you is here,” Bina began. “Today, I’d like some of you to share your stories in more detail. I know it will be hard, speaking about such emotional events with strangers, but this is a safe place, and talking about it will help your mind process the traumas you’ve suffered. It will help ease the horror and begin the healing.” She glanced around the circle of faces. “Who would like to start?”

The left side of Hope’s face tingled as Bear’s regard slid across her skin.

The redheaded boy raised his hand. “How do you heal from something that could happen again at any time?”

Bina nodded. “Traumatic incidents tend to make us aware of how dangerous the world is, and how fragile we are, Bryan. Will you tell us what happened that night?”

He looked down at his hands, twisting together in his lap. “Curtis is an IT guy. He works crazy-long hours. Weekends, too. So we don’t get to go out much.” His face relaxed into a small, intimate smile as he stared, unfocused at the empty center of the circle. “That night we went to Aurelio’s, our favorite trattoria. I chose it the first time we went out, because it was like Curtis—Aurelio means golden in Italian, you know.”

Beside her, Bear made a strangled sound.

Bryan’s face flushed blotchy pink, the way only a redhead’s can. “Are you some kind of homophobe?” He put a fist on his hip. “Because I really don’t need that kind of judgment right now.”

Bear held up a hand. “Peace out, dude. I just swallowed wrong.”

“Go ahead, Bryan,” Bina urged.

“We sat in our usual secluded corner. The candlelight loves Curtis. His eyes, that blond scruff...” Bryan sighed. “He looks like a god.” His body seemed to shrink into itself. “Curtis paid, and we were leaving. It was late, and the room was almost empty. We stopped at the bathroom on the way out. It’s down a brick corridor, next to the back door.” He dropped his head, and watched his hands gripping each other, knuckles white. “Three men came in and blocked the way out. Thugs. Said they watched us through dinner, and since Curtis was obviously infatuated with me, they wanted to know the reason.” His breath came faster. “Ugly, filthy men. They leered at me. Curtis put me behind him and told them to go away. That we didn’t want any trouble.” His mouth twisted. “They laughed. One grabbed Curtis. I started forward, but he put a knife to Curtis’s throat.” His shoulders rose to earlobe level. “I had no choice. They were going to hurt Curtis if I didn’t!”

“Take a breath, Bryan.” Bina’s calm voice was in stark contrast to the tension-filled air. “It’s in the past. You’re safe now.”

His shoulders lowered maybe a quarter of an inch.

“If you didn’t what, Bryan?”

“The last guy, the leader, he made me...you know. Go down on him.” He threw his head back and said to the ceiling, “I had to! He said he’d kill Curtis!”

Lowering his head, he pulled a halting breath through his nose. “They made Curtis watch, the whole time.” He put a hand across his mouth. “I can’t tell you—” He choked a sob.

Someone hissed in a breath. Beside her, Bear whispered, “Jesus.”

Hope sat stunned, suddenly and thoroughly grateful to have only taken a bullet.

“Afterward, they beat us. We tried to fight, but there were three of them.” He looked up, his horrified eyes liquid. “Do you know what steel-toed boots sound like, hitting bone?” He shuddered and tried to gather himself. “I was in the hospital for a week. Curtis...” He pulled in another shuddering breath and his shoulders collapsed. His elbows hit his knees. He buried his face in his hands. “Curtis is upstairs, still in a coma.”

The room’s air felt heavy, saturated with shock, shame and silence.

Bina’s soft voice cut through it. “I’m so sorry, Bryan.”

“That’s horrible. Did they catch those bastards?” Anger tinged Mark’s face red, leaving his horrific scar a bloodless white.

“Not yet.” Bryan sniffed. “It’s been a nightmare. I think I see them everywhere. At the hospital, at work, in the grocery store.”

“Do you think they’re still following you?” Hope asked.

“I think I’m just paranoid. From worry and not sleeping.” He looked at Bina. “But they’re still out there, so...how do you ever get over something like this?”

“You know this isn’t in any way your fault, don’t you, Bryan?”

He nodded.

“Good.” Bina’s shoulder-length helmet of black glossy hair swung when she tipped her head to the side. “How do you feel now, after having talked about it?”

He thought a moment.

Hope knew from experience that he was feeling around the edges of the hole in himself.

“A little calmer, I think.”

Bina’s smile was soft as suede. “Then I think you may have the beginning of your answer.”

She stood. “Why don’t we stand and shake off the tension? This work can be intense, and it helps to loosen our muscles.” She demonstrated, shaking out her hands and rolling her shoulders.

Hope stood and took a deep breath and did neck extensions to break the grip of muscle tension.

Popping came from her left, where Bear cracked his knuckles, then, with a hand under his chin, twisted his neck until several vertebrae popped. She winced.

Bina lowered herself into her chair. “We have more time. Does anyone else have anything they’d like to share?”

The rest of the group settled.

Hope threw back her shoulders, excitement and worry sparring in her stomach. Write it, talk about it, do it. She took a breath and pushed the words out. “I have some good news to report.”

“I think we all could use some of that,” Bina said. “Will you begin by telling us about your trauma?”

Hope walked them through the events of that day, feeling an odd detachment, as if she stood outside herself and watched. She couldn’t help the comparison to Bryan’s story. Not the story itself, but the emotion. She felt his experience in her gut—as if it had happened to her. Her own story felt as though it had happened to someone else.

She trailed off at the end, leaving the last words dangling in the air.

Bina’s brows pulled together. “You sound very detached from the trauma, Hope.”

Feeling the regard of the others, especially the solid presence on her left, she shifted in her seat. “I am. That’s because it happened to the old me.”

“The old you?”

“I can’t go back to that life. I have no interest in it any longer. So I’m starting a new one. I’ve rented a wonderful little Victorian cottage. I moved in just yesterday.” She tightened her muscles, her resolve and her courage. Once said out loud, this would be real. “And, after this meeting, I’m hoping to begin my new career.”