Closing the Book of the Past
We arrived at 7:25 due to a strong headwind just over the Michigan border. The limo driver stood in baggage claim, as they weren't allowed in the terminals anymore, with his little white sign that said Birdie. It was the cover I used where ever we went. It kept my real name out of the paper trail and protected Drev from fans. It's weird to sit in a restaurant and suddenly have a bunch of giggling goth girls at your table.
Anyway, I had called Paulie as soon as our plan touched down and he gave me the address for the base camp deal and I gave the slip of paper to the driver. The address had put a sinking feeling in my stomach. I mean yeah, I was nervous about seeing who this guy was but, that particular intersection gave me flutters. I knew a couple of guys who lived near that intersection, and I didn't want it to be either one of them.
We arrived at a small barricaded area of sidewalk that had several black vans parked along it. The limo driver was instructed to wait around the corner and he handed Drev a card with the car phone number. The officers escorted Drev to an area with coffee and donuts and I was taken to see Paulie and a big fat guy that had to be the head State Police officer.
Paulie gave me a hug and took me to one of the vans. I was given a flak vest. Ok so I didn't know it was called that until Paulie told me, but it was just as uncomfortable with out knowing what it was called. Then I was given a black helmet that was way to big. I was able to keep it off until we went to the arrest point. I feel like a cop, you know, terminology is great for giving you balls you never had before.
I went over to the coffee area and Drev and I got in a last kiss and hug before I was taken on a crouched walk between to black uniformed officers a block and a half away. They were showing people to a corded off area around the side of the building well away from the view of the third, and top, floor's front apartment with all its lights on and its curtains drawn. I didn't know this building, so it wasn't one of the two guys I knew that lived in this area. So who the hell was it?
Twenty minutes later the entire second and third floors were standing on the sidewalk, it wasn't that many really, not more than twelve people, but according to Paulie, one stray bullet killing one innocent was one too many.
Paulie told me some disturbing stuff in that twenty minutes. The guy kept a small arsenal in is bedroom closet and another in the coat closet by the front door. He had permits for it all so they couldn't confiscate it until he was in custody. More disturbing was that the closet arsenal was next to a shire devoted to me. The man had like pictures and a sculpture and a fucking lock of my god damned hair. How in the nine hells did he get a lock of my fucking hair?
Also he had seven picture albums, the covers exactly like the one left in my apartment, one for each day of the week, that were filled cover to cover with pictures of me. Me alone, me with friends, me in class, me asleep...I shivered...me swimming, me...me...me.
That has to be like the creepiest thing ever. He said that this young man owned a video of all of my recitals from college, he had pictures of me nearly wall papering his bedroom. It's all very sick...very, very sick.
The police did their thing, went up knocked on the door, identified themselves. Shots were fired, no one was hurt and they tagged him. He came down out of the building with his arms cuffed behind his back. He looked sullen and resigned. I think the shots were only half hearted. It's my opinion that since they'd questioned him about the kidnapping, he'd just been waiting for them to come, and he'd only fired because they were expecting it.
I don't know, I'm not a cop, but that's what it looked like to me. They walked the man over to where I stood. Time slowed down for me then. It was in that moment that I knew my own personal hell would end and his would begin and I felt entirely responsible for it. Maybe it's because I'm a girl, or maybe it's because I've spent my whole life being blamed, but in that moment, before I saw his face, I felt responsible.
The four officers that made a human wall around him walked him past where I stood. He turned his head and I looked into the sad cold eyes of my one and only boyfriend. The one and only other man I'd ever given myself to. What the fuck!?!
It was like everything I had ever believed about the world cam crashing down around my shoulders. I had given him everything, everything he'd asked of me. I wasn't the one who had told him no. I wasn't the one that had walked away after that first and last lousy lay. I wasn't the one who's said such awful hateful things. Yet here I was looking at this man who had put me through a hell only topped by the one I lived through only six years before I'd met the bastard.
Do I just draw the shit heaps of the world to me? What is it about me that makes men think I'm there for them to torment and abuse? Do I have a "Please Fuck with me. I haven't suffered enough"Â? sigh taped to my fucking forehead? What? Would someone please tell me why?
Ok, well that was a fun pity party. I would roll my eyes but they hurt from crying. I was escorted back to the base camp thing where they were loading Marcus into one of the vans and Paulie helped me out of my vest and helmet. I ran from him and into the only safety I have ever known. Drev held me while I sobbed against him. The men around us began to clean up their mess, now that the crisis was over they could all go home to their families, and I sobbed into Drev's faded black Rob Zombie t-shirt.
We ordered room service and I spilled my guts to Drev. I mean sure I've told him bits and pieces about my past, but never the whole crappy-assed story. I started from my earliest memory and let my anger and this raw seething pain boil out of my mouth through words I had wanted to share for so very long. I told him all the awful things I'd endured at the hands of my stalker the fear the isolation the need to be free. My whole life I've just wanted to be free. Well I've closed this victims book now. It's over. I won't ever be anyone's victim ever again.
The following day
I managed to doze a bit and when the alarm sounded at 8:00, I dragged my ass from the bed and stared at the reflection in the mirror. I had bags the size of my mother's pocketbook under my eyes, my skin looked pasty, and my cheeks were hallow. I didn't bother with makeup. There wasn't a point, I'd cry it all off anyway while I looked through the creepy detritus of Marcus' last few years.
I put on the jeans and t-shirt I'd brought with me and called the front desk to ask for a car to drive me to the police station. I was called five minutes later to tell me it was ready.
The police station is from the red-brick-squares-are-all-we-need-to-do-justice era. I went in and was taken back to speak with the ADA assigned to my case. He showed me pictures of the apartment, and the albums, my album was among them. I saw things I don't think I will ever forget. My brain is not strong enough for this shit. I told the young harried man, that I could have lived my whole life with out ever seeing any of this shit, and have been just fine. He gave me one of those dry lawyer's chuckles and soon after a court reporter joined us with her little short hand machine. I didn't know they still used those, I figured everything was simply video or tape recorded, then put through computer programs. Guess I was wrong.
They took my statement. Which means I got interrogated about my life as a stalker victim. They weren't gentle. I felt like some dumb common criminal by the time they'd dissected every waking moment of my poor tortured life. I think it's just a cop thing. They don't know how to question someone any other way.
I left there four hours after I'd arrived. I was beyond exhausted and was glad I had six hours before I had to get up and prepare my worthless self for the interview at the college. As Drev's assistant I had to go. It was how the deal worked. I so fucking didn't want to go.
I got back to the hotel and shucked my clothes so I could crawl naked into the bed with Drev. He curled his body around me and I fell into an instant sleep. Nightmares plagued me, but I won't bore you with any more of my psychosis.
I woke to an empty bed when the alarm sounded at 5:30. I heard the tv softly playing in the other room. I switched off the buzzing box and Drev padded into the room.
He smiled at me and we kissed. Sex was far from my tortured mind and he seemed to understand that and didn't even ask. I showered and dressed in the funky skirt outfit that befits a rock star's assistant. Drev had made or ordered peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches and I ate mine, taking the comfort it gave me. PB&J are my sole comfort food. I eat them when I'm down, period end of story. Depression, PMS, anger, sullenness all see me with PB&J in my hands.
The interview went off with out a hitch. It followed the format, asked the approved questions, gave the students a chance to talk to a rock legend and I got to cool my heals in the dressing room with a bottle of water and peanut M&Ms. I ate the whole bowl.
The flight home was much less Mile High Club filled than the flight there, but that was ok with me. Drev just held my hand and played some kind of clicky game on his lap top. Me I just stared out the window and let the hot tears flow down my cheeks. God, I hate crying. That bastard has gotten all the tears he ever will out of me....ok...maybe not...Dammit!