Saturday, July 5, 2014

Chapter Nine is Now Available To Read 

Morgan watched the women coming out of the building. She had gone to
three different professional buildings since her hospital release two days ago to
see if she could get an idea what she would be required to wear to work every
day. Most of them wore pants and sweater sets with nice shoes. She looked down
at her notes and saw that all the women she’d been observing were dressed the
same. Now she needed to go and purchase the clothes.
Morgan had left the Grant building at around four, just after she’d taken an
inventory of the rooms. It was just a place she was staying and she doubted it
would ever be a home to her. She was now armed with her list of needs and her
money. She had found it in another yellow envelope on the kitchen table when
she had been shown around the apartment by Byron earlier that morning. She’d
already decided to just get what she needed for now and would get the extras on
other trips.
Morgan found a bus route map and, using it, made her way across town to
the Wal-Mart. She got a cart and went to the clothing department and set about
getting what she needed.
Only able to wear white panties and bras since she could remember, Morgan
looked at the pretty colors the bras came in and it made her smile. Just who she
would buy them for, she couldn’t imagine, but bought a pink one with little lady
bugs all over it for fun. Serviceable is what she needed, not fun, but she did it
The pants were a little tricky as she didn’t have any idea what size she wore
since she had been wearing the kind that tied at the waist. Taking several sizes in
the changing room, she pulled them on and if they buttoned and zipped and
weren’t too long, they were her size, she figured. She had thought to only buy
two pair, one black, the other blue, but the light gray ones were so nice that she
got three. They were on clearance anyway so she didn’t mind the extra cost. Next
on her list were shirts. She found a nice silky T-shirt that came in lots of colors, so
she picked out five of them, red, white, blue, green and lavender, and added
them to her cart. She was able to find a white sweater and a nice plain black shirt
on the clearance rack for only two dollars each and got them as well. Instead of
getting pantyhose, which seemed like they’d be hot, she purchased a pair of
black thigh highs and a sensible pair of black flat shoes. After getting herself a
towel, a bag of apples, and a sleeping bag, she went up front to pay.
Two hundred and twenty-three dollars and twelve of those little plastic bags
later, she was waiting at the bus stop. She was dizzy with exhaustion and hurt in
places she’d only thought of. While she waited on the bus, she consolidated as
much as she could. She put a lot of the clothing in her large bag. By the time the
bus pulled up, she had managed to narrow it down to the sleeping bag she
planned to use instead of the blankets and four very tightly packed little ones.
Morgan nearly missed her stop as she had dozed off for a minute and had
only just gotten up to get off before the driver moved forward. Setting down her
bags outside the Grant building door, she dug though her pockets to find her ID
when David opened the door for her and helped her in.
“Thank you very much, sir. I appreciate the help.” She moved over to the
elevators with her burdens and pushed the button to go up.
“Ms. Becky? I...I wanted to say how sorry I am about the other day. I
shouldn’t have grabbed at you. That just wasn’t right. I just wanted to let you
know, okay?” She looked up at the man and smiled. No one had ever told her
they were sorry before.
“It’s all right, Mr. Tulles. No harm done, really, at least not to me. I’m very
sorry about your head. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.” The doors opened for
her and she hesitated just a moment before continuing. “I...I’m staying in Mr.
Byron’s apartment now. I work for Dr. Grant on the top floors. Just in case you
see me around, I can be here now.” Without waiting for him to reply, she
stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the fourth floor.
Later that night, after she’d taken a two hour nap, she sat looking out the
window to the street below. She’d tried sleeping in the big bed, but she couldn’t
relax. She’d finally had to take her sleeping bag into the bathroom and put it in
the tub. It was more what she was used to, the tightness of the room and there
was only the door, no windows for anyone to get in. Now she was sitting at the
kitchen table thinking about her life.
There was no family that she was aware of. She’d spent the first seventeen
years of her life in a state run facility for homeless children. Morgan had never
been adopted like most babies brought into the home. They had said it was her
coloring. Her hair was a deep red and her eyes were the lightest blue, and her
skin was so white it defied description. She was also tall for her age.
When Morgan looked in the mirror, she saw a woman, not even a pretty
woman at that. She’d heard people, women included, tell her she was beautiful,
but she just didn’t see it.
Morgan worked hard and stayed to herself even as a small child. She
discovered early she had a photographic memory and could learn languages
very quickly. That had served her well throughout high school and her little bit
of college she’d taken on the outside. Then when she was able to, she had taken
classes to finish up her degree and now had a BA in business management. Not
that it had done her a lot of good. Once people saw that she had been an inmate
of the State Pen, they stopped right there.
Morgan reflected on her life on the inside. She’d spent the first eighteen
months in the infirmary. Having been raped and beaten as badly as she had, it
was months before she could even walk very far. Then there was the two selfinflicted
gunshot wounds, one to her head the other to her left shoulder. Her
hand had taken the longest to heal. She had broken it in four different places that
night so that she could get the cuff off her wrist to escape.
Randall Bennett had told her that she was going to die. She hadn’t cared at
that point whether or not she did, but he was definitely going to. When he had
left her to go upstairs to get his gun, she had begun slamming her hand hard
against the wall between the cot headboard and the wall.
After the first two breaks, she pretty much hadn’t felt the other two and with
the help of her blood, was able to get her right hand out of the cuff and drop to
the floor, sliding the whole cuff out of its hanger. Dizzy from pain and
exhaustion, she crawled to the door and waited for him.
When he came through the door, she tripped him and took his gun. It took
her two tries to get the gun’s trigger to work; then she simply pulled it seven
times and killed him. When the police arrived after a neighbor had called in the
sound of gunshot, she was just putting the gun under her chin for the third time.
The first shot had gone awry and a ricochet had caught her in the shoulder. The
second time, she’d let the gun slip and it grazed her head in a deep cut. The
young officer begged her to stop and, in the end, had had to shoot her himself to
prevent her from killing herself.
There hadn’t been a day that went by that she wished either his aim had
been worse, or hers better.

Tune in next week for Chapter Ten 

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