* * *
Waverly
I walked into my condo after a long day at work and dropped my keys into the dish on the console by the front door. After hanging up my jacket and setting my purse next to my keys, I headed into the kitchen and poured a glass of wine as I heated up leftovers.
Flipping on the television for background noise, I nearly dropped my glass when a familiar name and face popped up on the screen. I turned up the volume and fought back the bile threatening to spill.
“...in national news, we bring you a story intended for mature viewers only. A high-ranking member of the notorious Aryan Motorcycle Club, the Supreme Riders, Delbert “Boneyard” Fisk was admitted to Lakewood County Hospital near Denver, Colorado, on Friday, having sustained life-threatening injuries. Fisk was found by a passing motorist who spotted him on a nearby road. According to doctors, Fisk’s genitals had been completely removed by an as of yet unidentified person or persons. Law enforcement is asking anyone who has information to contact the Denver Police Department. Fisk has a long criminal record including chargesfor assault with a deadly weapon, false imprisonment, sexual assault, but had somehow failed to serve any serious jail time. Both Denver PD and federal law-enforcement had long suspected Fisk to be the head of an international weapons trafficking enterprise but neither had been able to convict him on any charges. At this time, there are no suspects and the motive remains unclear. In local news, the annual Rose Festival...”
I changed the channel and stood frozen in place for what seemed like forever. I didn’t know how to feel, to be honest. One of the men who’d drugged and raped me was now a eunuch?
Good.
But also, too little too late.
The beeping of the microwave brought me out of my maudlin thoughts, and I sighed. I’d had a lot of therapy to deal with this shit, but it didn’t mean I still didn’t think about it. Because I’d been drugged during my assault, I didn’t remember most of it. Snippets from time-to-time, but never full memories, and as horrible as being drugged and raped by two bikers sounded, I was grateful I hadn’t been lucid for any of it.
I had been able to compartmentalize in a way.
My best friend, Lennon? Not so much. She’d wanted blood but no one had been able to keep both of them behind bars. Boneyard had been released due to overcrowding and the other creep was in the wind, so I’d had to leave it in the hands of the Denver PD.
Lennon Whitman had been my best friend sincewe were paired together as college freshmen. She’d been my ride or die from the moment we met, and she was still living in Colorado, recently swept off her feet by a mystery man whom she’d met while visiting with her grandmother. He was a neighbor who apparently helped the elderly woman out with fixing the occasional clogged sink, so he sounded pretty close to perfect, and she sounded happy which made me happy.
After my attack, I’d refocused my studies on Physical Therapy and moved to Portland. Well, technically, I’d moved to Vancouver, Washington. But nobody knew where the fuck Vancouver was. You’d tell them, and they’d say, “Oh, Canada?”
No, you dumb shit, Vancouver, Washington was settled before Vancouver B.C. And then you’d correct them, and they’d say “D.C.?”
Insert facepalm.
On their face.
D.C.’s on the total opposite side of the country.
So, it was just easier to say Portland, because I needed to protect my peace, and their general well-being.
In the end, I’d put everything behind me. It was a clean break, and since I had no family, other than Lennon, really, it was a chance to start over. It was the best decision I’d ever made.
I love, love, loved the rain, so the Pacific Northwest was a perfect fit, and my career involved helping people, which had always been my passion anyway, so Portland was where I landed.
I wasn’t a fan of being so far away from Lennon,but we talked and texted almost daily, and since she was working on her PhD, we pretended she was just super busy, not hundreds of miles away from each other.
I grabbed my phone and dialed her number.
“Hey, Gravy,” she said, answering on the third ring.
I smiled. She’d given me so many nicknames in the past, but landed on ‘Gravy,’ and it didn’t matter how much I’d groaned and lamented how lame it was, it stuck.
“Hey. Did you see the news?”
“You know I don’t watch that crap,” she reminded me. “Why?”
“Delbert Fisk has been emasculated.”
“Like by a dominatrix?” Lennon retorted.
“No, not emotionally.” I sighed. “As in literally. His penis and testicles have been removed.”
“Oh...really?”
