This war had occupied my mind for several years now, this burning desire to destroy the Bandits. But I couldn’t run from the horrible shit I’d done forever. I’d have to come face to face with my past and who I was sooner or later.
And at that point, I wasn’t sure if I really would say that was a preferable outcome to death.
Rachel
It’s fucking him.
I had just parked my car in the parking lot of Southwest Dine, getting ready to go inside and grab some food to go. It should have been just another small step on my return back to normal life—not as big a step as going to Santa Maria Auto Repair and seeing Connor, but still a real step. What if I ran into Brock or one of the other guys here?
But what I had not anticipated was that “one of the other guys” was one of my rapists.
As soon as the truck had pulled up, I’d had a sickening feeling. I got that feeling a lot, so I tended not to let it overwhelm me, but it was never something I could ignore entirely. Rather than getting out of the car when the truck pulled up, I remained in the driver’s seat, watching to see who emerged.
From the driver’s side, it was someone I’d never seen before. From the back, it was also someone I’d never seen before.
But I only needed to catch a glimpse of Eduardo getting out of the passenger’s side door.
His bushy black eyebrows, his dark brown eyes, his brown complexion, the scowl mixed with a smirk that he wore so often, his bandanna…I could never forget that face. I would see that face in the most random of moments, at times when I had no reason to see his face. Like when I’d bend over to pick up eggs from a grocery store, or when I’d open a cabinet to grab some beans, or when I lay my head down at night to get some sleep…
If I had money, I would have seen a therapist long ago. Time had provided some respite, making the memories of his laughing face and…what happened that night less frequent, but I doubted I would ever forget.
And unfortunately, even though I’d made it this long without ever seeing him or Damian or Derek, even though I knew there was always the chance that things could change, I had somehow never considered that just as I could have coincidentally run into Brock or one of his friends, I could have coincidentally run into Eduardo or one of his allies.
The sight made me fucking sick. That wasn’t a figure of speech, either. I literally wanted to throw up.
I had to lower the back of the seat to a recliner position, at which point I just lay down in the car, trying my best to let the nausea pass. I prayed that Eduardo or one of his guys wouldn’t see me here; the only respite I had was that they seemed preoccupied with something inside, for I didn’t hear them coming out of the restaurant for quite some time.
I tried to think happy thoughts, but it was like the old game of being told not to think about a white elephant. All I could think about was that horrible night over a decade ago.
It had started out innocently enough. Brock and I had decided to go for a stroll. We had plans for each other, plans for a future. Sure, we were naive and foolish, and we were just kids, but that was the point. We were, well, not innocent per se, but we were young enough that we could do anything we wanted to. We had that belief that if we wanted to start a family, we could; if we wanted to move to a bigger city, we could; if we wanted to say fuck it and go backpacking across the middle of nowhere somewhere in the globe, we could.
And then, one of the Bandits clocked Brock. One of them grabbed me. And then…
I didn’t know whether to count my blessings or not that I began to feel so sick that it took me away from the memories. I got pulled out of them, opened the car door, and thew up on the gravel lot of Southwest Dine. All the while, I just found myself asking if this was how it was always going to be. What was supposed courage if, the moment that I saw my rapist walking around and laughing, I just curled up in a ball and puked up my lunch?
I sat in the car with my head in my hands, too sick and too weary to cry. Eventually, after what felt like a few minutes, Eduardo and his guys got back to the truck and peeled out. It was obviously far too quickly for them to have ordered food, eaten, and paid, which meant once more, the asshole had probably done something illegal liked robbed the store.
I really hoped that the guys won their battle against them. But I also really hoped I would never be a part of it, since the mere memory of the event was enough to make me sick.
Even as I saw the Bandits leave, I remained in my car, paralyzed at the terror that they might have seen me and were springing a trap. What if, as soon as I got out of the car, they grabbed me, pulled me far behind Southwest Dine, and…
What if I got into Southwest Dine, they cornered me, intimidated everyone else into looking the other way, and…
My stomach growled.
Somehow, my body had pulled off the impossible feat of both losing its appetite and desperately craving food. And even still, I remained in my car for several minutes.
Finally, I grabbed the door handle and just forced the car door open. I waited to see if the Bandits would take the bait, but not only did no one come, when I peered around, there weren’t even any trucks nearby.
That was the most fucked up part about it. I guarantee Eduardo didn’t spend a single moment thinking about what he had done, and he certainly didn’t let it affect his decision making. And yet, here I was, petrified by what had happened years ago, barely able to get out of my car in the terror that they’d repeat their actions.
How fucking sickening.
Be strong. Get your food. Go home. At worst, it’s just leftovers you can have for lunch or dinner tomorrow. You already paid for it; you might as well take it.
I got out of the car, my heart still racing a thousand beats per minute. I looked around. The coast was clear. I hurried to the front door, lowering my head, thinking,This moment, this moment, this is it, this is it, this, oh God, this…and I opened the door.
No one looked at me with suspicion. No one—
