Page 87 of A Whim and a Prayer

“No … Brayden … no …” Her words were desperate in her mind, but they came out sluggish and slow as hands fumbled with the buttons of her sweater—grappling, tugging …

His words were sluggish too, telling her not to worry, that everything would be okay. But the stench of whiskey was so strong, she turned away.

“I really, really like you, Winnie,” he slurred, and in her dreamlike state, she wasn’t sure if it was real or not. All she knew was that something was pulling. At her. At her skirt. At her consciousness … pulling down … down … into a deep hole that was closing her in ...

“Nooo …” Winnie cried with a whimper, head thrashing back and forth on the pillow until she caught her breath on a gasp, eyelids springing wide. Her bedroom ceiling suddenly blurred into view, slowly reassuring that she was in her own bed, safe and sound.

Well … safe, anyway …

Glancing at the clock, she moaned that it was almost noon, wishing she could sleep the day and then the night away. She swallowed hard as she turned on her side, so very grateful the doctor had prescribed a sedative to help calm her down. She’d had an anxiety attack at the hospital, the first one in years, which truly terrified her. The last ones had happened at Holy Trinity in the 6th grade after her stuttering had started, prompting her mother to switch her to St. Stephen’s instead. She’d been fine ever since.

But now … now this …

“No!” she whispered, sweat beading her brow as she shook her head to try and dislodge the thought from her brain, pulse pounding erratically. She didn’t want to think about what happened with Brayden—all she wanted to do was sleep, forget that she’d just been through the worst night of her life.

Even now, just thinking of it quickened her breathing and tightened her chest, her body trembling so much, she thought she might faint. And, oh—what blessed relief if only she could, escaping through a few more hours of sleep.

I have to do something! Thoughts frantic, she stumbled from the bed to retrieve her purse from the dresser, fingers quivering as she pulled out the two sedative pills she’d managed to sneak from the bottle the doctor had prescribed. The same bottle Alex had immediately confiscated when he’d returned to her ER cubicle, finally turning it over to her parents. She knew he had to tell them about the assault and the anxiety attack, but she’d begged him not to tell anyone else.

A shiver coursed through her like the chills that now shuddered her body. Especially Beck. Heaven knows there was already enough shame and guilt to torment her without him and everyone else knowing too.

She grabbed the glass of water from her nightstand so fast, it spilled as she popped the pills in her mouth, and setting it back down with shaky hands, she slowly slid back under the covers, eyelids heavy once again …

“Where is the little freak?” the monster bellowed, and the sound of something crashing against the wall caused Winifred to soil her panties as she shivered under the bed.

“Not worth the air that she breathes …”

Glass shattered, and Winifred jerked, eyes squeezed tight as she curled into a ball, hands over her ears to stop the angry words, the meaning of which she didn’t even know, but hurt all the same.

“… oughta drown the little freak in the river like a rabies cat …”

She whimpered, body ice cold from wet panties and the chill of fear.

“Better off dead… for everyone …”

Silent heaves shuddered her body as she waited.

And when the door banged open and a shaft of light lit up the room, Winifred screamed ...

Winnie jolted up in bed with a blood-curdling scream, her breathing out of control and saucer eyes burning with tears. Her heart battered against her ribcage like a trapped bird, desperate to break free.

It was the same old nightmare back to haunt … only now she had a new one to add, and she didn’t know what to do. Slowly lying back down, she stared at a tiny crack in her ceiling like a zombie, the blur of her tears causing it to grow into a spider. Just like this new crack in her life that left her broken and shattered.

Grief welled along with more tears, and a sob broke free as she curled into a ball.

She jolted a second time at a quiet tap on the door. “Winnie?”

Her body froze, not ready to face her mother just yet, even though it was almost three o’clock and she’d been sleeping all day. Yes, Mama and Daddy had hugged and kissed and hovered over her when Gabe and Alex had brought her home this morning, but it had only caused her more pain because she was too guilty to receive it. Too ashamed to look them in the eyes, the one faulty failure in the family, which given the foreign blood in her veins, really wasn’t family at all …

So she’d feigned sleep when her mother called outside her door before hurrying in, standing over Winnie’s sleeping form for a few moments till quietly leaving the room, letting her rest.

If nightmares could be called “rest.”

She knew she would have to talk to them eventually, and she would. But right now, all she wanted was relief from the torment in her brain. So, squeezing her eyes shut once more, she willed herself to sleep to take the pain away …

“You killed her!” Mary Lou taunted, mouth twisted in hate, “and we all wish you would die too.”

“Yeah, Winifred killed Sister Marta! Winifred killed Sister Marta!” Mary Lou’s sidekicks joined in with relish.