Broken Wings

Part Eighteen - the launch

Chapter Eighteen

The luxury of high thread count sheets, an en suite bath that she could swim in, and room service. The glorious benefits of a top end hotel. Even better for Julia, was the fact that she hadn't paid for it. Stretching out into a starfish position, she sighed. If only this was as taxing as the day got.

Closing her eyes, she tried to fight the memories of the previous evening, the touches, the kisses...she didn't want to remember any of it. Yet she did too. She couldn't ever remember feeling like that, for a moment, she was almost what she imagined was normal. But as he touched her breast, he caught a finger on one of her scars. It didn't hurt, but it zinged, a path straight to the front of her consciousness.

Self harming had become another of her coping strategies when her uncle had unrestricted access to her. She'd learned where to target, places that would heal but would never be seen, and a small blade could pierce her skin and take her breath away, and that pain...was GOOD pain, normal pain. And that's all she'd ever strived for, to be normal. So many times she'd got to this point, where she almost felt she could shrug free of her past finally. But it never happened, each time something dragged her back down to the pits of despair.

What would Aaron think if he saw the crisscross lines that were only just hidden by her bra? She hadn't cut her breasts, though she often was surprised at that, without them she may never had made her uncle's radar. But between her breast and each arm pit was a strip of flesh that was rarely seen and that had become her target zone. Alternating right after left. Sometimes one side healed before she needed to visit again, other times it hadn't. Depending on how bad the week was.

Tears filled her eyes, it had been a long time since she'd let herself sink this low. She wasn't sure whether it was letting Aaron get close to her, the threat, the fear...or the news about her uncle...and her family. It was easy to blame it on the former, but she knew it was the latter.

"But you can't change that. Can you?" She didn't speak quietly as she stared at the ceiling, "lash out at anything you CAN affect. Poor Aaron, he deserves so much better."

Rolling to her side, she reached for her phone, she'd promised she'd speak to Abi this morning, but she was feeling far too fragile for the person who could read her so well.

As if by telepathy, her phone burst into life and Abi's name flashed.

Rolling back on to her back, she connected, "hey girlfriend."

Abi sighed, "how ya doing?"

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, "they were helping him appeal."

Despite their calls and messages, Julia hadn't vocalised her problems at all. Years of therapy meant that she knew exactly what she SHOULD do, but often didn't have the strength to actually do it.

"Have you spoken to them? Your parents."

"No. Can't."

There as a knowing pause, "but does that mean that you are self destructing with the not knowing?"

A gruff laugh preceded her reply, "I'm trying not to, desperately. The first month here...it felt like I was finally putting it all behind me."

"I know babe, I have never been prouder. But you have to read this as it is. A media story, people seeking sympathy for him. He was convicted, because he was guilty. That wasn't about to change twelve years later. You hear me?"