by Lisa De Jong
“Listen, try to calm down.” I looked nervously around my office. I’d never been in a situation like this before. I knew I had a panic button under my desk, but my desk was across the room. I would have to pass by Malik first to get to it. Dammit, I should have sat closer to my desk. I realized I shouldn’t have told Officer Harris, his escorting officer, to keep his distance because my kids didn’t open up to me when they felt like there were listening ears. I just didn’t realize Malik would flip out like he did. “It’s okay. We can work through this,” I said in soothing tone.
“It’s not fucking okay. Don’t even say that. You have no idea what I deal with every fucking day!” Malik clenched his fists by his side. The veins in his neck bulged, and his jaw muscles twitched when he clenched his teeth.
Panic overwhelmed me. By then I was looking for any way to calm him down. “You’re right,” I assured him. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
I knew if I screamed, the guards would bust down the door and snatch him up like a rag doll. But if I did that, I’d be right back at square one with him. He wouldn’t trust me and I will have lost him forever. No reform. No breakthrough. It just wasn’t worth it. I rose from my chair, slinking behind it and standing there as if its tiny frame would protect me. “Malik, look, we can handle this. Getting angry and out of control isn’t going to help. Please. I need you to calm down. I want to understand where you’re coming from.”
I could practically see the steam spewing from Malik’s ears. The corners of his mouth twitched with rage. His glowering eyes glared through me as if he didn’t even recognize me. He jumped up from his seat, towering over me with his finger in my face. “Why don’t you shut the fuck up, bitch! Just shut the fuck up before I punch my fist straight down your throat. Don’t tell me to fucking calm down!”
I knew it was too late—too late to scream, move, or hit that panic button. Dammit! Before I could react, Malik grabbed me and had me by my throat against the wall of my office.
“I don’t need your shit too…” he hissed in my ear. I gasped for breath, my fingers frantically clawing at his hand around my windpipe. I writhed and kicked, trying to break free.
Malik sucked in a deep breath through his nose, grinding his teeth. His demeanor reminded me of a bull ready to charge. Shit! He was strong—stronger than I ever imagined.
“Please,” I gurgled. “Please, Malik.” The searing pain of his calloused hands on the soft skin of my throat stung my skin. Where the hell was the guard? He must have stepped too far away from my office to hear the scuffle. Why? Why in the hell had I told him to do that? I should have known better than to put myself at risk! Help! My mind screamed, but the sound of my voice was cut off by the hands gripping my throat. Oh god, please!
Malik held me up against the wall high enough that my toes scraped the ground, but not low enough to catch my footing. I scrambled, trying to alleviate the pressure on my throat. My oxygen was quickly running out. All I could think was…Alexis.
Just then, my door burst open. It was Chris, and his eyes were primed to kill. Officer Harris was right behind him, but Chris got to me first.
He ripped Malik off of me and thrust him toward the floor. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, asshole?!” Chris screamed.
“Get off me, motherfucker!” Malik spit into his face.
Officer Harris called for backup and tried to pull the boys away from each other
Two more guards immediately rushed the scene, shackling them, and hauling them both away. I heard Chris yelling, “That shitbag was choking her! Make sure she’s okay!”
I gasped for air, crumbling onto my sofa. Tears fells from my eyes and dripped onto my cheeks. I’d always been too trusting…too naïve. I thought I could save these boys. I thought I could change them and turn them into good, upstanding citizens. Clearly, I had lofty aspirations, but I wasn’t about to give up. Not yet. My time at Fairbanks wasn’t done. I was holding my throat, already tender from the bruising when Officer Blevins flew into my office in a panic.
“Oh god, Salem. Are you okay? I just radioed someone from medical. They’re on the way.” Inspecting my throat, he asked, “Are you hurt?”
Through heaving breaths, I whispered, “Thanks…I’m okay.”
Officer Harris sank down on the sofa beside me.
Glaring at him, Officer Blevins boomed, “What happened, Harris?”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, looking at me regretfully. “I stepped away for just a second. I got distracted talking to Chris. I’m so sorry, Salem.”
I looked at Officer Blevins. “Barry,” I rasped, resting a hand on my heaving chest. My throat was scratchy as I tried to find my voice. “It’s not…his fault.” Glancing at Officer Harris, I said, “Don’t…beat yourself up.”
Officer Harris was emphatic. “I’ve never had a reason not to trust the kids in your office. There’s just something about you. You bring out the best in them.”
Officer Harris then directed his attention to Officer Blevins. “You know as well as I do that Malik is one of the toughest kids in the whole building, but the minute he steps foot into her office, he’s like putty in her hands. I don’t know what happened today. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I dropped the ball…so sorry.” He hung his head shamefully.
I took a deep, staggering breath. I’m alive. I’m okay. “I just struck a nerve with him, and he snapped.” My voice had finally returned with some semblance of normalcy. “I think I might have had a breakthrough with him, we’ll see…Give it a few days. I want to talk to him again. I know I can get through to this kid. Please, Barry, don’t write Malik up.”
“Salem, I can’t…he…he put his hands around your throat. I have to report this.” Barry stared at me, wide-eyed. “He could have killed you.”
“But he didn’t, Barry. I could see it. That wasn’t anger; that was pain. Just give him a day to think about it. I’ll come and talk to him tomorrow.”
“I can’t let this slide, Salem,” Barry said resolutely.
I knew what would happened if Malik got written up—segregation or an extended sentence. Not to mention that Officer Harris could lose his job. I pleaded mercilessly with Barry, who wouldn’t budge in his decision.
Finally surrendering, I said softly, “I understand. Please, just don’t give Malik a hard time. He’s had a tough life. Just give him a break…for me.”
Barry nodded, knowing his hands were tied. In this case, his own job was on the line.
Just then, a medical technician knocked on my door, offering to check me out. Barry and Officer Harris quietly excused themselves. Barry softly patted me on the shoulder then stepped out of my office.
As they were leaving, I called after Barry, my voice still hoarse from the trauma, “Oh, and tell Chris thank you.” He saved me again.
“Yes ma’am,” Barry he called back.
After I was cleared by the technician and was left alone in my office, I sank down at my desk. The tears I cried weren’t for nearly losing my life at the hands of an angry teenager; they were for the hurt and heartache Malik had been through in his life that caused him to react the way he did. God knows what that kid had been through. His chart told me enough to bring me to tears—abuse, severe neglect, shuffled around from foster home to foster home where no one really wanted him because his temper made him difficult, at best. Then one night, he broke into a local jewelry store and stole as much gold, silver, and platinum as he could fit into his pockets. They had a hard time tracking him down for that crime until he tried to pawn the diamonds off at a store a mere five miles from his foster home. It was pitiful, really; the things these kids go through. Of course, his situation was no excuse for his behavior, but most of the time those two things went hand in hand. I just hoped that one day Malik would find the right family—one that would love him and teach him, through love, the appropriate way to behave. I could hardly blame a kid who reacted with anger when it was the only reaction he’d ever known.
Those thoughts b
rought me full circle back to Alexis. She was so precious and innocent. I had been so hard on her in the few short months of her life. Maybe I expected too much. Maybe I was too hard on her. I needed to give the kid a break. If only I could make myself feel less resentful. I was really going to make the effort. Alexis deserved that much from me.
So, I guess I needed to thank Malik. He opened my eyes.
****
Much to my dismay, I couldn’t hide the bruises on my throat. Graham glanced at them and rolled his eyes.
“What the hell happened now, Salem?”
“A run-in with a client,” I said hoarsely, offering no other explanation.
With a smug look on his face, he said, “I told you that job would be dangerous.”
He seemed far more concerned about being right than about my injury.
Folding my arms across my chest, I spat out, “I’m not quitting, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”
“Jesus, Salem, what the hell is it about this job that you love so much?” he groaned.
I shook my head, realizing that this man was totally incapable of feeling empathy for anyone. “Obviously something you’ll never understand,” I scoffed. I loved those kids. I loved my job. Nothing would ever change that.
He settled down into his recliner and flipped on the television. “Whatever,” he grumbled.
****
Later that night, while I cuddled Alexis in the rocking chair, I whispered into the darkness how sorry I was. I promised her that I would change and hoped, with a tenacity I’d never felt before, that I could keep that promise to her. She was my baby. It was time I started owning that.
Then I kissed each of her closed eyelids as she slept in my arms and placed her in her crib. I tiptoed down the hall, crashing into my bed.
A few short minutes of deep, peaceful sleep came to me instantly, but not even an hour passed by before she was screaming her head off. I ambled down the hallway, scooped her up and carried her back to bed with me. I need this night, God. Please. I need this night of sleep. I begged to the heavens for mercy, to no avail.
Rather than enjoy a few solid hours of rest, I spent the rest of the night wrestling with Alexis to stay asleep. As soon as I’d doze off, she’d be kicking and squirming and I’d instinctively grab her leg in fear of her rolling off the bed or getting suffocated under her comatose father beside us. My mission for uninterrupted sleep failed miserably.
I was trying really hard not to hate her. Why did she have to make it so difficult?
Chapter Ten
SALEM
Graham stomped around the next morning, slamming doors while huffing and puffing. I had zero patience for his attitude.
“What’s your problem?” I snapped, when we passed each other in the hallway.
He narrowed his steel blue eyes at me. “I’m freaking tired, that’s what.”
I gawked back at him. “You’re tired?” I asked, my tone of voice seething with sarcasm.
“Yeah. Alexis is gonna have to learn how to sleep in her own bed. She flopped around all night. I barely got a wink of sleep. You can’t be bringing her to bed like that again.”
Selfish jerk. Glaring at him, I fumed, “Right. Next time I’ll walk the halls with her all night and not let you lose one second of precious sleep.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Salem. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“That’s exactly what you meant,” I hissed. “Ever since she’s been born, you haven’t lifted a finger to do a damn thing to help me. Try walking in my shoes for once!”
Graham groaned exaggeratedly. “Oh please. You can stop with the dramatics, Salem,” he barked. Whipping around, he stormed down the hall and out the front door. I stood there, trembling with fury. What the hell makes him think he’s exempt from parenting?
I drank my coffee on the way to work the next morning, praying to the caffeine gods to work their magic. Before the restless night’s sleep, I had this grandiose idea that things would get better…that I would get better. But even the best intentions can be easily thwarted by reality. Alexis’s constant disruption throughout the night, along with Graham’s bitterness toward me that morning, stabbed like a knife through my great plans. Suddenly, I felt very alone, suffocating again.
Conveniently, Alexis slept soundly all the way to Mrs. Betty’s house. She stayed asleep while I unhooked her car seat from its base and carried her into the house. She made not one fucking peep the whole time Pixie and Trixie, the matching Shih Tzus, sniffed her and licked her toes. She enjoyed her peaceful slumber while I silently cursed her in my mind.
****
Sitting in the silence of my car just outside my office window, I watched the dreary sky drop drizzling rain on my windshield. I can’t do this. I can’t live like this. I feel like I’m about to lose my shit on someone if I don’t get at least three hours of uninterrupted sleep. I washed the last bite of my protein bar down with the final sip of my coffee. That’s when I caught a glimpse of the answer to my prayer out of the corner of my eye—the knife Graham had bought me shortly after I’d gotten the job at Fairbainks. Graham had insisted on me carrying something to defend myself if I ever got into a situation…his words, not mine. I chuckled. Little good it did me to have a knife that I wasn’t even allowed to carry into the building. I had tossed the knife into the side pocket of my car door with never any intentions on needing it. Until today.
With that knife I could have ended it right then and there. I could have made it all go away. I could go to sleep forever and never be disrupted again. The glinting metal beckoned me, and I couldn’t help but reach into the door pocket for it.
Turning the knife over in my hand, I examined the beauty of the stainless steel handle. I flipped open the blade, eyeing the deliciously sharp beveled edge. I didn’t intend to kill myself, so what would be the harm in just touching the knife to my skin?
I considered how easy it would be. With one hard swipe across my wrist, it would all be over, but I wasn’t ready to go that far. Placing the edge of the blade against the delicate skin of my wrist, I felt the urge to slide it gently across my skin, curious to see what it felt like.
Would it hurt? Would it sting? Would be quick and painless?
Would it bleed a lot? Get all over my jacket? Make a big mess?
Would I even care?
I wasn’t sure about any of that. I just knew that I needed to feel something—anything. I needed to give life to the pain I endured deep inside. I needed hard proof of the cankerous emotions that festered in my soul.
With a controlled flick of my wrist, I instantly felt the white hot burn from the blade as it sliced ever so slightly into my skin. Not enough to do any real damage, but just enough to give release to the ache in my heart. God, it felt so good. With every pulse of blood that leaked out, my emotional pain slipped away. Adrenaline coursed through my body as I laid the knife in my lap and smeared the blood across my skin.
My heart pounded in my chest. It was the first time in months that I’d felt truly alive. Knowing the restraint I’d used in barely piercing my skin gave me a sense of control over my life, while the stinging pain gave me a reason to cry—a real reason to shed tears uncontrollably—until my tears ran dry and my head pounded from the dark, emptiness that was still lingering inside of me.
And that’s when I realized that I really didn’t feel any better.
I knew I had to get my mind right before I headed through the doors for work. I couldn’t tell anyone what I’d just done. They’d send me straight to a psych ward. I might lose my job. Quickly grabbing a napkin and dabbing the blood, I jerked the sleeve of my shirt down to hide my secret.
God, I’m so selfish. I could never really kill myself. What would happen to Alexis? I’m a mother, for Christ’s sake. My life isn’t just about me anymore.
That revelation was amazing and devastating at the same time. I had a child that depended on me and needed me to be there for her, but at the same time, by creating a life I destr
oyed a life. Everything I knew about my life before Alexis had been ripped away from me because the moment she was born, everything changed.
My life isn’t just about me anymore…dammit.
I folded the knife and threw it back into side pocket. What was I thinking?
****
Later that morning, I sat at my desk, softly tracing the wound on my arm. I was a wreck…a sleep-deprived, maniacal wreck. No amount of makeup concealer could hide the dark circles below my eyes. I knew I was on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown.
What the hell was I thinking?
I didn’t hear him open the door. I didn’t see him standing there. I had no idea how long he’d been watching me.
Chris’s voice cut through the silence. “What happened?”
I instantly jerked the sleeve of my shirt down and pulled my hand off my desk, lowering it out of sight.
A momentary flicker of awareness crossed his face. He stared at me, suspicious. “What happened?” he repeated. The rasp in his voice was startling.
“I…I…” I couldn’t formulate a lie fast enough. My worst fear of someone finding out was coming true, and the guilt was written all over my face. I gulped.
“Mrs. Honeycutt, did you….?” He was stunned, unable to finish his question. His chest rose and fell, shallow with realization. He stared at me with scared, wide eyes. Desperately seeking a solid answer, he asked more firmly, “Did you do that?”
I couldn’t lie, but I couldn’t tell the truth either. I couldn’t look him in the eye. When I didn’t answer him right away, I could tell that he knew by his expression of horror. My gaze abruptly dropped to the floor, hanging my head in shame.
Why did he have to walk in? Why did I do something so stupid?
I heard soft steps approach me. Before I could react, Chris was by my side peering up at me as he knelt down beside my office chair. My eyes stayed glued to the floor, my guilt a constant thump in the pulse of my neck.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to coax the words out of me. He only placed his hand on my shoulder to comfort me. I squeezed my eyelids shut, unable to shake the look of fear that came over his face when he’d realized what I had done.