Battered Innocence
It hurt to breathe. Everything hurt, from her head, down to her toes and everything in between. Before Jimmy, during Jason she had been roughed up by a few drunk John's who knew that some cokehead pimp wouldn't bother holding them accountable for their actions with his property. These John's were almost always right. Before Jimmy, or B.J. as she had come to call it - which always reminded her of blow jobs, not because she associated Jimmy with them, but it was always the first thing that came to mind. During Jason, those injuries sustained were always minor affairs, a slap across the face, tugging of the hair in order to get her to do what they wanted. All minor things that left her crying and scared to go out ever again. When she was finally let out of these situations she would always go home, crying to Jason - mascara and eyeliner running down her face in a chaotic and fearful representation of how miserable her life had become. He would generally respond the same way, smoothing her hair away from her face and holding her gently, promising she wouldn't have to go back out again. That was a lie. The minute he got high, or needed another fix she would be out on her way, scared about the next John she had to pick up. None of those encounters was anything like the one she found herself in that night in the alley. The doctor told her she was lucky the man didn't break her jaw. Fucking Dago prick. Skeezy little slime ball crawling on top of her, kicking her . . .
It hurt to breathe. He had cracked a rib and bruised many more and the doctor told her that the only thing she could do was rest, rest and move as little as possible - and here, take this pain medication. What a blissful high. After hurting so bad the pills were a welcome relief from the screaming in her chest and in her head. All she wanted to do was crawl into that orange bottle and sleep away the rest of her life, sleep all the pain, and the terror away and wake up in Fiji - like Jimmy promised. That's all she wanted, for the pain to stop, so that every time she took a breath she didn't have to wince and groan. So she could sleep in some other position then half up right, on her back. So she could get out of the hospital and far away from these doctors and nurses as she possibly could. Half way through their stay at the florencent hell, she thought she saw the doctor - Blackwell, Charles Blackwell M.D.. Peeking his head into the room, watching her, leering at her in his white coat, stethoscope around his neck as he strolled in as free as a bird, reading over her medical charts and clicking his tongue at her. He wouldn't dare touch her, not with Jimmy there - not with Jake down the hall, she would scream and fight him even if it meant going mad with pain. She was safe, Jimmy was there - in the bed right next to her, he would stop him if he tried to even put a finger on her.
Jimmy. Jimmy had gotten it worse then she had - his body nearly covered in bruises, his face half bandaged up, only one eye showing and even that half obscured by the oxygen mask he had on. He had tried to save her, when that little prick had started kicking her, stomping on her - he was suddenly stopped by Jimmy who had knocked him to the ground, did to him what she wanted to do - beat the hell out of him. It was his total disregard for his own well being that allowed her to crawl just a little bit away from the madness. If he hadn't had done what he did, the little greaser might have done what he wanted to do. Women know that look, when it comes into a man's eye. That animal look, half mad-man, half wild-animal who knows that he's about to take what he wants, regardless of how much she screams or begs him not to. Olivia didn't tell Jimmy or Jake about that look, or about the words the attacker wheezed at her from a split lip and broken nose, Jimmy had given him. The wail of the sirens chased the three attackers away, and the wail of both ambulances and fire trucks split through the sound of roaring fire as their apartment for the last five months burned brightly into the night. Even in the chaos he sought her, holding her close as she sobbed against her broken ribs, and he tried to focus through the blood and pain.
It hurt to breathe. But after the hospital, and swimming in the pain medication it didn't hurt so much as constantly ache - a dull throb that made her teeth ache and, if she got up too fast a dizzying state in which the whole entire world lent to the left before righting itself in front of her eyes. The pain medication made her sick, her stomach would turn, doing flip-flops when she took it, and she couldn't keep down food, it was fine though - better weight loss then pain. From the stress and not eating correctly she hadn't gotten her period. That was fine, better that then the pain, and it wasn't something she worried about anyway, it certainly wasn't the first time she was late when she had been with Jimmy, and from what he told her pregnancy wasn't going to be an issue for them. So it was the stress. The stir crazy nature that she drove herself into. When she should have been resting and getting better she was fidgeting and wanting to walk around. When she should have been sleeping in and eating big breakfasts, she worried about school, dance, and the man laying next to her. She didn't want to leave his side, and for the first couple of days, she didn't. Giving him a sponge bath when his pain medication knocked him on his ass, or he was just too sore to get out of bed. Helped him eat, helped him to the bathroom, it kept her mind busy and her focus off the buzzing in her head that sometimes the pain killers couldn't fix.
Sometime in the following weeks it didn't hurt to breathe. She could move easier, and as long as she didn't start laughing or breathe hard, she could go about her routine with some modifications. Gretchen had brought over her missed school work, and Olivia had started, half heartedly to catch up. It was so close to the end of the school year that she found that her heart wasn't into it. Staring down at the books in her lap would make her head hurt, her pulse race and her back teeth grind together, till she would casually take one of her left over pills. Things would slow down then, the headache would go away, and slowly everything would return to normal. She could finish her homework, and then fall asleep in the big, high backed chair Jake had moved in front of the window for her to watch out of. So even though she couldn't go out, she could certainly look out the window and watch the dinners walk into the restaurant in their beautiful dresses and smart suits. During her evening of spying is when she would eat, usually crackers, or maybe a half a sandwich from the kitchen as she swallowed mouthful after mouthful in order to satisfy chef who took a personal offense at her lack of appitite. Even after she had told him that it was the medication - not him.
Every day was just a step closer to freedom. From the fear that those men would come back, freedom from the fear that Jimmy would stay hurt forever. Freedom from the restaurant that she had grown to love, but had also kept her under guard, for her own protection. She wanted to go out again, to go to school, to dance class - she knew that if she fell behind in Ballet that it would be hard to make it up especially if they had started rehearsing for the next show in the fall. Gretechen had a sleep over birthday party planned for the end of May, and Olivia was dying to go. Her friend said her mother promised a broadway show, complete with dinner for the two of them to celebrate the girl's seventeeth birthday. Olivia had to go, she just had to. For a night, all she wanted to do is be a teenager, to get dressed up with her friend and pretend that the world didn't matter - just for one night. That night, holding Jimmy's hand at night, and those pills were the only thing that were pushing her onward. As the days went by the amount of pills were steadily growing less and less, and she was anxiously nervous about how she was going to cope without them. How she was going to cope with everything. When the physical pain faded, what was left to cure the emotional wounds that were slowly taking over her life? After making herself numb, it was going to take some getting use to, to feel again.
It hurt to breathe. He had cracked a rib and bruised many more and the doctor told her that the only thing she could do was rest, rest and move as little as possible - and here, take this pain medication. What a blissful high. After hurting so bad the pills were a welcome relief from the screaming in her chest and in her head. All she wanted to do was crawl into that orange bottle and sleep away the rest of her life, sleep all the pain, and the terror away and wake up in Fiji - like Jimmy promised. That's all she wanted, for the pain to stop, so that every time she took a breath she didn't have to wince and groan. So she could sleep in some other position then half up right, on her back. So she could get out of the hospital and far away from these doctors and nurses as she possibly could. Half way through their stay at the florencent hell, she thought she saw the doctor - Blackwell, Charles Blackwell M.D.. Peeking his head into the room, watching her, leering at her in his white coat, stethoscope around his neck as he strolled in as free as a bird, reading over her medical charts and clicking his tongue at her. He wouldn't dare touch her, not with Jimmy there - not with Jake down the hall, she would scream and fight him even if it meant going mad with pain. She was safe, Jimmy was there - in the bed right next to her, he would stop him if he tried to even put a finger on her.
Jimmy. Jimmy had gotten it worse then she had - his body nearly covered in bruises, his face half bandaged up, only one eye showing and even that half obscured by the oxygen mask he had on. He had tried to save her, when that little prick had started kicking her, stomping on her - he was suddenly stopped by Jimmy who had knocked him to the ground, did to him what she wanted to do - beat the hell out of him. It was his total disregard for his own well being that allowed her to crawl just a little bit away from the madness. If he hadn't had done what he did, the little greaser might have done what he wanted to do. Women know that look, when it comes into a man's eye. That animal look, half mad-man, half wild-animal who knows that he's about to take what he wants, regardless of how much she screams or begs him not to. Olivia didn't tell Jimmy or Jake about that look, or about the words the attacker wheezed at her from a split lip and broken nose, Jimmy had given him. The wail of the sirens chased the three attackers away, and the wail of both ambulances and fire trucks split through the sound of roaring fire as their apartment for the last five months burned brightly into the night. Even in the chaos he sought her, holding her close as she sobbed against her broken ribs, and he tried to focus through the blood and pain.
It hurt to breathe. But after the hospital, and swimming in the pain medication it didn't hurt so much as constantly ache - a dull throb that made her teeth ache and, if she got up too fast a dizzying state in which the whole entire world lent to the left before righting itself in front of her eyes. The pain medication made her sick, her stomach would turn, doing flip-flops when she took it, and she couldn't keep down food, it was fine though - better weight loss then pain. From the stress and not eating correctly she hadn't gotten her period. That was fine, better that then the pain, and it wasn't something she worried about anyway, it certainly wasn't the first time she was late when she had been with Jimmy, and from what he told her pregnancy wasn't going to be an issue for them. So it was the stress. The stir crazy nature that she drove herself into. When she should have been resting and getting better she was fidgeting and wanting to walk around. When she should have been sleeping in and eating big breakfasts, she worried about school, dance, and the man laying next to her. She didn't want to leave his side, and for the first couple of days, she didn't. Giving him a sponge bath when his pain medication knocked him on his ass, or he was just too sore to get out of bed. Helped him eat, helped him to the bathroom, it kept her mind busy and her focus off the buzzing in her head that sometimes the pain killers couldn't fix.
Sometime in the following weeks it didn't hurt to breathe. She could move easier, and as long as she didn't start laughing or breathe hard, she could go about her routine with some modifications. Gretchen had brought over her missed school work, and Olivia had started, half heartedly to catch up. It was so close to the end of the school year that she found that her heart wasn't into it. Staring down at the books in her lap would make her head hurt, her pulse race and her back teeth grind together, till she would casually take one of her left over pills. Things would slow down then, the headache would go away, and slowly everything would return to normal. She could finish her homework, and then fall asleep in the big, high backed chair Jake had moved in front of the window for her to watch out of. So even though she couldn't go out, she could certainly look out the window and watch the dinners walk into the restaurant in their beautiful dresses and smart suits. During her evening of spying is when she would eat, usually crackers, or maybe a half a sandwich from the kitchen as she swallowed mouthful after mouthful in order to satisfy chef who took a personal offense at her lack of appitite. Even after she had told him that it was the medication - not him.
Every day was just a step closer to freedom. From the fear that those men would come back, freedom from the fear that Jimmy would stay hurt forever. Freedom from the restaurant that she had grown to love, but had also kept her under guard, for her own protection. She wanted to go out again, to go to school, to dance class - she knew that if she fell behind in Ballet that it would be hard to make it up especially if they had started rehearsing for the next show in the fall. Gretechen had a sleep over birthday party planned for the end of May, and Olivia was dying to go. Her friend said her mother promised a broadway show, complete with dinner for the two of them to celebrate the girl's seventeeth birthday. Olivia had to go, she just had to. For a night, all she wanted to do is be a teenager, to get dressed up with her friend and pretend that the world didn't matter - just for one night. That night, holding Jimmy's hand at night, and those pills were the only thing that were pushing her onward. As the days went by the amount of pills were steadily growing less and less, and she was anxiously nervous about how she was going to cope without them. How she was going to cope with everything. When the physical pain faded, what was left to cure the emotional wounds that were slowly taking over her life? After making herself numb, it was going to take some getting use to, to feel again.