Moving Forward

The Truth Isn't Always Pretty Part 3

Sven's POV

I took my stance behind my desk, my back facing the window. I couldn't bring myself to sit down. I was still tense. This was a hypersensitive issue with me. The most important task a man could have and I failed at it for the first five years of her life. Most times, I worried I was still screwing up.

Victor was the first to speak. "The file was very detailed, so I have no questions about it." He tugged on his hair as if unsure of himself. "I know that you are aware of the situation with my parents, especially with my father. With the little experience I have had with the matter, I know that mental and physical abuse take a heavy toll on the victim. So, my question is: How can I help her?"

"Luke?"

"I have never been abused," he frowns, "but several of our friends have been. They all have emotional issues that they are still dealing with. North has his yelling, Gabe and his need to control how we all look, Nate being able to defend himself and Kota with his counting. They all have their own coping methods. As for Raschel, she has gone out of her way to make us feel welcome and assure we have settled in. She has become a close friend and I want to be a good friend in return. That means I need to know how to help her when she needs me."

I looked each straight in the eye, gauging their honesty. I saw only genuine concern and caring staring back at me. I forced myself to sit behind my desk, reminding myself that we needed to get this over with. Chel was waiting for us to join her and James in New York.

I removed a thin folder from the top drawer, placing it on the desk before me. "The first thing you should know is about her hair. She lets very few people touch it. As you saw in the report, the doctors had to shave her head. Between the matted hair, the lice and skull fracture, they had no choice. There are only three people that she will allow to trim it. If someone else reaches for her hair, she panics and will try to leave. The woman who abused her used to drag her around by  it, so she instinctively thinks that is what the stranger is going to do. I'm sure you have noticed that she takes very good care of it. Unconsciously she is afraid that if she doesn't care for it carefully, the doctors will have to shave her head again." I absently fiddle with the edge of the file. A small distraction that eases my stiff shoulders. "The next is movies. She is prone to nightmares. I limit her to happy ending movies only, no Horror or Thrillers allowed. The same with video games. Seriously. If you wake up and find her snuggled up to your side, it means she had a nightmare and you were in it. She......." I search for a way to express it correctly. "Sleep walks, I think is what you would call it. She checked on you to make sure you were okay and stayed to make sure that no one would hurt you while you slept. Don't wake her up, move to another room or call me to come get her. She doesn't realize what she is doing and she means no harm." Victor and Luke exchange a silent glance, speaking only with their eyes. "Her clothing. For five years she was only allowed three shifts to wear. While being to big for her, they were thin and stained, ragged, torn in spots. The only shoes she had were a pair of old flip flops that had once belonged to the older girl living in the same house. Her only coat was an ancient one that a man would wear during summer. Winters could be pretty cold in Illinois and kids teased her about her clothing, including the girl she lived with.' My lips tilted up in slight amusement. "She is possessive of her clothes. She doesn't like other people going through them or picking them out for her. I'm allowed to because I'm her dad and she says that gives me special rights. That usually means that I get to take her shopping and pay the bills for her." They chuckled. "What she wears can give you an indication of her mood. The more she covers herself up and the loser they are means she needs to be left alone. She will go bury herself in one of her hobbies, usually in one of her secret labs, tree house or cabin until she has her emotions under control."

"Secret lab?" Luke perked up with interest. Victor smirked and shook his head at this friend.

"Yelling scares her," I continued. "For the first five years of her life yelling led to pain and starving. Someone yells, if she can't run, she will try to hide or she will go catatonic. If it happens when she is with you, don't waste time trying to shut the person up, get her out of there. If you can't leave, take them out anyway you can." I was dead serious. "Doctors. There are only two doctors she will let near her. Dr. Angela Maitland is her doctor here and she sees Dr. Roberts in Charleston. The white coats, they remind her of all the pain she suffered from the surgeries. The doctors told me that it hurt worse when they had to re-break a bone and reposition it so it would heal right then when the bone had been originally broken. Several of the bones had required steel pins to hold them in place as they healed, then more surgery was needed to remove them."

"Her surgeries are all done, right?" Luke's tone was filled with hope.

"Yes," I confirmed. I glanced at the clock and noticed the time. "We will finish this conversation on the road. We meet on the front porch in thirty minutes. Pack casual clothes, Chel took our dress clothes with her and James."

"Who is driving?" Victor's eyes flashed. I wasn't sure if it was with hope or disappointment.

"The three of us are taking turns. It is a four hour drive. I will start us off, Luke next, then you and I will finish. I want you both to become familiar with driving in our part of the country, but you aren't ready for the big cities yet."

I took a quick shower, dressing in my favorite pair of jeans and one of the goofy T-shirts my daughter was always buying me. It was dark green in color and said: I'm the dad, I should be in charge. She had been wearing a matching one when they had left this morning. Her's said: I'm the daughter, I'm always in charge. I would pretend to grumble and she would giggle, making it all worth it. The shirts were important to her though, they told the world that we belonged together. A kind of proof that someone loved and wanted her. I secretly loved when she wore one of her daddy shirt's. It always made me feel ten feet tall to think I had helped to create such a loving child.

I was putting my bag into the back of the Denali when the boys joined me. "James called. Chel managed to score us the Mayor's boxseat tickets to see The Lion King on Broadway tonight. We will get dinner after the show."

"I've heard it is an excellent production." Victor looked thrilled. "I was going to ask grandfather if we could see it performed while we were in the city. The puppetry is supposed to be outstanding."

"We will find out tonight if it lives up to the hype." I say as I put a duffle bag in the row of middle seats. "Gentlemen, the bag placed between you is the official anti-boredom bag. You will find everything you need to keep you from becoming bored."

"Such as?" Luke eyed the bag curiously.

" If you open it, you will find drinks, snacks, games, music, movies and books. If none of that can entertain you, then you must have died when we weren't looking and I will have to beg Uncle for mercy." My tone was dry.

We waited until we were heading west on I-71 before resuming our conversation. "Raschel is completely clueless when it comes to someone flirting with her. She thinks they are ill or something and will ignore them to prevent embarrassing them. If they become more aggressive in their flirting, she sees it as threatening and has flattened a boy for such behavior." Luke snickered as if he was picturing it in his mind. "She has a thing about personal space and boundaries. Lord help the fool stupid enough to cross either one. Strangers. When meeting new people, she prefers to sit back and watch them first. She isn't very trusting, with good reason. She doesn't like pushy people and will avoid them whenever possible." I think for a few minutes. What else? Oh, yeah, can't leave that out. "She will not answer any questions she feels is prying. She doesn't like to be interrogated. She will close down. If the person persists, she will call me and I will take great pleasure in kicking that person's rear to Antartica and leave them to freeze to death."

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