bruises, her nipples were raw, and she’d seen teeth marks. She’d also discovered a painful bite mark on her right shoulder where his teeth had left a perfect imprint where they’d broken the skin.
Her next words further stoked the fury inside Angel. She’d blushed and looked right into his eyes when she’d said them, which humbled him because he knew how hard it must have been for her to tell this story. “He raped me on the bed I’d slept in every night since I was a little girl. I was a virgin…and he raped me.”
She’d stayed in a hot shower until the scalding water had finally run cold. Because her parents had never allowed her to be exposed to programs or information that dealt with traumatic topics, she didn’t know that was the worst thing to do in case of rape. Her sobbing efforts to erase his painful assault washed away all the evidence of his attack.
Scared and afraid of frightening her mother into another heart attack, she kept the assault to herself and prayed for guidance in what to do. She’d contacted a friend from school who was now a sheriff’s deputy under the guise of having questions about neighborhood children playing in the drainage tunnels near her parent’s home. He’d paid a visit the following afternoon. When she would have brought up the subject of what to do about Ranulfo, her father had come outside and gotten involved with the conversation about the drainage tunnels.
She’d never been able to ask him but had a feeling Allen knew she’d wanted to talk to him about something else. Realizing her father would not leave her alone, a single woman talking to a single man, she’d finally taken the card Allen had offered. He’d written a private cell number on the back of it along with a short note, Call me if you need me, Teresa , and then he’d bid Mr. Palacios and her a good evening. Pocketing the card, she’d reassured her father when he’d mentioned her unusually quiet demeanor of the last couple of days.
At the grocery store one afternoon, she’d run into Allen. He’d greeted her, discreetly asking her is everything was all right with the drainage tunnels, arching an eyebrow at the reference so she would know he understood there was some other underlying reason she’d called him. She’d wanted to tell him what had happened to her, but she’d come to realize she had no real evidence.
He’d intuitively asked her about Ranulfo and if she had dated him. She’d gripped the handle of her shopping cart with white knuckles. Allen had caught on, even though she hadn’t answered any of his questions, and he’d reminded her he was there if she needed him and would she please call him when she was ready. She’d nodded, and he’d reluctantly backed off.
Six weeks after the attack, feeling fatigued and suffering from violent nausea, she’d made a visit to their family practitioner only to discover she was pregnant. She’d been confident her doctor had upheld his obligation where her confidentiality was concerned, but someone else who worked in his office leaked the information. Overnight the whole town knew she was a single expectant mother with no father in sight.
The final straw had come the night Ranulfo’s mother had called, offering to buy the baby. She’d told Teresa once it was born she’d pay cash for it whether it was a boy or a girl. Mrs. Ferraro had hinted insultingly that she would know whether or not it was really Ranulfo’s baby with one look at it. When Teresa had recovered from the shock of the woman’s offer, she’d vehemently refused to consider it and had told the woman neither she nor her baby would have anything to do with Ranulfo and his family. Ranulfo’s mother had gone on to insinuate that Teresa might not have a choice in that matter and that it was always possible she might find herself declared an unfit mother. In which case the child’s paternal grandparents would of course step up and do the “right thing” and claim the poor,
Her next words further stoked the fury inside Angel. She’d blushed and looked right into his eyes when she’d said them, which humbled him because he knew how hard it must have been for her to tell this story. “He raped me on the bed I’d slept in every night since I was a little girl. I was a virgin…and he raped me.”
She’d stayed in a hot shower until the scalding water had finally run cold. Because her parents had never allowed her to be exposed to programs or information that dealt with traumatic topics, she didn’t know that was the worst thing to do in case of rape. Her sobbing efforts to erase his painful assault washed away all the evidence of his attack.
Scared and afraid of frightening her mother into another heart attack, she kept the assault to herself and prayed for guidance in what to do. She’d contacted a friend from school who was now a sheriff’s deputy under the guise of having questions about neighborhood children playing in the drainage tunnels near her parent’s home. He’d paid a visit the following afternoon. When she would have brought up the subject of what to do about Ranulfo, her father had come outside and gotten involved with the conversation about the drainage tunnels.
She’d never been able to ask him but had a feeling Allen knew she’d wanted to talk to him about something else. Realizing her father would not leave her alone, a single woman talking to a single man, she’d finally taken the card Allen had offered. He’d written a private cell number on the back of it along with a short note, Call me if you need me, Teresa , and then he’d bid Mr. Palacios and her a good evening. Pocketing the card, she’d reassured her father when he’d mentioned her unusually quiet demeanor of the last couple of days.
At the grocery store one afternoon, she’d run into Allen. He’d greeted her, discreetly asking her is everything was all right with the drainage tunnels, arching an eyebrow at the reference so she would know he understood there was some other underlying reason she’d called him. She’d wanted to tell him what had happened to her, but she’d come to realize she had no real evidence.
He’d intuitively asked her about Ranulfo and if she had dated him. She’d gripped the handle of her shopping cart with white knuckles. Allen had caught on, even though she hadn’t answered any of his questions, and he’d reminded her he was there if she needed him and would she please call him when she was ready. She’d nodded, and he’d reluctantly backed off.
Six weeks after the attack, feeling fatigued and suffering from violent nausea, she’d made a visit to their family practitioner only to discover she was pregnant. She’d been confident her doctor had upheld his obligation where her confidentiality was concerned, but someone else who worked in his office leaked the information. Overnight the whole town knew she was a single expectant mother with no father in sight.
The final straw had come the night Ranulfo’s mother had called, offering to buy the baby. She’d told Teresa once it was born she’d pay cash for it whether it was a boy or a girl. Mrs. Ferraro had hinted insultingly that she would know whether or not it was really Ranulfo’s baby with one look at it. When Teresa had recovered from the shock of the woman’s offer, she’d vehemently refused to consider it and had told the woman neither she nor her baby would have anything to do with Ranulfo and his family. Ranulfo’s mother had gone on to insinuate that Teresa might not have a choice in that matter and that it was always possible she might find herself declared an unfit mother. In which case the child’s paternal grandparents would of course step up and do the “right thing” and claim the poor,
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