The Girl in the Woods by Chris Culver

Author:Chris Culver [Culver, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chris Culver

22

June and I walked to my truck for its comfortable, padded seats, but the moment we got inside, she wrinkled her nose.

“It stinks like a wet dog in here.”

“I’ve been searching the woods for evidence in a double homicide. Give me a break,” I said, glancing at her and then reaching into the paper sack between us for the sandwich. I gave her half. “You’re not a Georgia peach, either, honey.”

She took a bite of her sandwich but said nothing. I ate my soup with a plastic spoon. The Styrofoam container had kept it warm, but I would have preferred an actual bowl. It would have felt like dinner instead of diner fare. When June finished her half of the sandwich, I glanced at her.

“You can eat the rest of the sandwich, but if you puke in my truck, I’ll make you clean it up tomorrow when you’re sober.”

“I won’t puke,” she said.

I nodded and ate. “You drink alone often, or is this a new thing?”

“New thing. I wanted to try it out,” she said, shrugging and reaching into the bag for the other half of the sandwich. She paused and looked at the dashboard. “I hate him, you know. He walked past me today and smiled at me like we were old friends or something. I wanted to scratch his eyes out.”

“I assume you didn’t attack him,” I said, finishing my soup and putting the empty container back in the bag.

“No, but I wanted to.”

I nodded and shifted on my seat to get comfortable.

“I appreciate your restraint.”

“So what happens now?” she asked. “I pretend that I’m fine?”

I shook my head.

“The next step is up to you. There are therapists if you want to talk to someone. I can give you some names.”

“Talking won’t help,” she said, looking out the window. “I’ll remember what he did for the rest of my life, and he gets to move on like nothing happened.”

I looked at the steering wheel and considered how to respond.

“You won’t forget what he did, but it will get better. You can heal.”

She shook her head and reached for her door. “I don’t need this shit from you. I hear it all day from my sorority sisters. They don’t know what I’m going through, and neither do you.”

She opened her door and stepped out, but I spoke before she could take more than a step.

“My foster father drugged and raped me on the living room sofa of his house in Chesterfield when I was sixteen.”

She stopped trying to leave, but she didn’t close her door.

“What happened to him?”

“Prosecutors sent him to prison for murdering one of his other foster daughters. He raped her, too.”

“Whoa,” she said. She got back in the car. “That’s for real? You’re not just saying that?”

“It’s for real,” I said. “It’s a long, old story, but it made the news a few weeks ago. You can look it up.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice low. Neither of us said anything. Then she looked at me. “You seem so normal.

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