all her precautions, she was sure he'd heard every sound she'd made.
Had he come downstairs to greet her?
Truthfully,
she didn't care why someone was in the house. Now all she wanted to do was get
out of there and let the sheriff handle him. She just had to turn away, take
three steps, get her car keys, then take another two steps to the front door.
Once she was outside, she could run. And once she was inside her car, she'd be
safe. But when she turned, she must have made a noise, because the man's head
came up and he saw her. One minute he was on the other side of a couch and the
next he was leaping toward her. 'Wait a minute!' he said as his hand shot out
in her direction.
Maybe
he had a reason for being in the house. Maybe he was an innocent person. Maybe
when he reached for her all he wanted to do was talk. But whatever his
intentions, when Eden saw the hand come out of the dark and reach for her, she
panicked. She wasn't forty-five years old with many years of life
experience, she was seventeen, she was walking home from choir practice, and a
man's hand was reaching out to grab her. Back then she'd been so innocent, so
sheltered from what went on in the world that she didn't know what the man's intentions
were until he tore her blouse and grabbed her breast. After that, she didn't
clearly remember what was done to her.
For
over twenty-seven years, Eden had been eaten with the thought, What if I'd
fought back? What if she hadn't been such a frightened little ninny that all
she'd done was cry and plead with him not to hurt her? When he'd told her he
wasn't going to hurt her if she kept quiet and still, she'd been so young and
innocent that she'd been reassured by his words. What if I had fought? was
the question that had plagued her all these years.
Now, it
was as though she was back in that park again and was being given a second
chance. This time she was going to fight. In an instant, she
dropped her human persona and became a bundle of fighting fury. She kicked and
she clawed; she bit and she hit with her fists. The man kept trying to hold her
and he was saying things, but she couldn't hear him — and wouldn't have
listened if she could. That other man on that night so long ago had talked to
her too. He'd said that he wasn't going to hurt her. But he had hurt her. He'd
hurt her in her mind, her body, and in her life. In one act of cruelty, he had
taken away her future.
When
the sirens sounded outside, the man didn't let go of her but kept trying to
hold her to him, and Eden kept fighting him with all her might. She felt her
teeth sink into skin and muscle. She heard his sounds of pain when her fists
hit him. She felt her nails plow deep furrows into his skin.
She was
still fighting when the front door burst open and men started yelling. The man
was pulled away from her, but Eden was still too blind with memory and fear to
stop fighting.
When
Braddon Granville tried to touch her, she fought him too. She couldn't
understand what he was saying when he called her name and told her his. She hit
the man in the rescue uniform as he held her down so his partner could give her
an injection. She fought until her body succumbed to the drug injected into it
and couldn't fight anymore.
3
When
Eden awoke she knew she was in a hospital. The smell and the sounds were
unmistakable. She looked around the small room at the picture of the seashells
on a beach hanging on the wall, and at the machine next to her bed, to which
she seemed to be hooked. She saw the hard gray chair by the bed, and the roses
on the table at her side. Sunlight was coming through the window, so she knew
it was morning.
She lay
back against the bed and closed her eyes for a moment. Vaguely, she remembered
what had happened.
'Good
morning.'
Eden
looked up to see Braddon Granville standing beside her, a bouquet of spring
flowers in his arms.
'Feeling
better?' he asked, his voice full of concern.
'Better
than what, Mr. Granville?' she asked, trying to
Had he come downstairs to greet her?
Truthfully,
she didn't care why someone was in the house. Now all she wanted to do was get
out of there and let the sheriff handle him. She just had to turn away, take
three steps, get her car keys, then take another two steps to the front door.
Once she was outside, she could run. And once she was inside her car, she'd be
safe. But when she turned, she must have made a noise, because the man's head
came up and he saw her. One minute he was on the other side of a couch and the
next he was leaping toward her. 'Wait a minute!' he said as his hand shot out
in her direction.
Maybe
he had a reason for being in the house. Maybe he was an innocent person. Maybe
when he reached for her all he wanted to do was talk. But whatever his
intentions, when Eden saw the hand come out of the dark and reach for her, she
panicked. She wasn't forty-five years old with many years of life
experience, she was seventeen, she was walking home from choir practice, and a
man's hand was reaching out to grab her. Back then she'd been so innocent, so
sheltered from what went on in the world that she didn't know what the man's intentions
were until he tore her blouse and grabbed her breast. After that, she didn't
clearly remember what was done to her.
For
over twenty-seven years, Eden had been eaten with the thought, What if I'd
fought back? What if she hadn't been such a frightened little ninny that all
she'd done was cry and plead with him not to hurt her? When he'd told her he
wasn't going to hurt her if she kept quiet and still, she'd been so young and
innocent that she'd been reassured by his words. What if I had fought? was
the question that had plagued her all these years.
Now, it
was as though she was back in that park again and was being given a second
chance. This time she was going to fight. In an instant, she
dropped her human persona and became a bundle of fighting fury. She kicked and
she clawed; she bit and she hit with her fists. The man kept trying to hold her
and he was saying things, but she couldn't hear him — and wouldn't have
listened if she could. That other man on that night so long ago had talked to
her too. He'd said that he wasn't going to hurt her. But he had hurt her. He'd
hurt her in her mind, her body, and in her life. In one act of cruelty, he had
taken away her future.
When
the sirens sounded outside, the man didn't let go of her but kept trying to
hold her to him, and Eden kept fighting him with all her might. She felt her
teeth sink into skin and muscle. She heard his sounds of pain when her fists
hit him. She felt her nails plow deep furrows into his skin.
She was
still fighting when the front door burst open and men started yelling. The man
was pulled away from her, but Eden was still too blind with memory and fear to
stop fighting.
When
Braddon Granville tried to touch her, she fought him too. She couldn't
understand what he was saying when he called her name and told her his. She hit
the man in the rescue uniform as he held her down so his partner could give her
an injection. She fought until her body succumbed to the drug injected into it
and couldn't fight anymore.
3
When
Eden awoke she knew she was in a hospital. The smell and the sounds were
unmistakable. She looked around the small room at the picture of the seashells
on a beach hanging on the wall, and at the machine next to her bed, to which
she seemed to be hooked. She saw the hard gray chair by the bed, and the roses
on the table at her side. Sunlight was coming through the window, so she knew
it was morning.
She lay
back against the bed and closed her eyes for a moment. Vaguely, she remembered
what had happened.
'Good
morning.'
Eden
looked up to see Braddon Granville standing beside her, a bouquet of spring
flowers in his arms.
'Feeling
better?' he asked, his voice full of concern.
'Better
than what, Mr. Granville?' she asked, trying to
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