following me back to the table. I stop on the way to get a glass of water before taking my seat.
“His photos of you started near university, is that right?”
I nod my head.
“Yes, but there were only a few from that time. Then there was about a year gap before it started again, and from then on they were pretty consecutive. No more gaps.”
He looks up from his notepad.
“What happened during the first gap? After university?”
It’s not hard to forget, they were some of the best memories of my life.
“The curly haired brunette in some of those photos is my best friend, Laura. We spent close to a year traveling. Everywhere from California to Italy. We’d fly somewhere for a month, spend a few weeks at home and then fly somewhere else. It wouldn’t have been easy to know where I was, unless you were a close friend of mine.”
Ryder nods his head, deep in thought before looking back to the photos and notes.
“Only the photos that are taken with your daughter, or men, are written on. I’m not a profiler Elle, but any idiot could assume that either he has strong religious views and didn’t like the fact that you had a child without being married, or he envisioned himself being the one to give that to you. Did he mention anything about that?”
Not wanting to think back on that time right now, I tell him so.
“I’d prefer if you would just look over that file, and make your own assumptions. Then maybe tomorrow we’ll sit down so I can answer your questions. You’re going to have more than just that one Ryder, and I would rather hash it all out at the same time after you’ve gone over the whole thing.”
Knowing that my suggestion is the best course of action for me right now, he nods his head and gets back to it.
“Sure, beautiful.”
The endearment comes out naturally, but I don’t acknowledge it like I usually would. Purely platonic, and strictly business at the moment is my game plan. I try my best to shut down my emotions and remain at this table like an outsider looking in. Not letting my heart or my head get too caught up in the mess that is my past.
After a short while of silence, watching Ryder go over everything with a fine toothed comb, I get up from the table and head to the fridge in search of the makings for sandwiches. My stomach doesn’t necessarily want food right now, but I know if I don’t eat I’ll pay for it later.
I make us each a chicken club and grab a few bottles of water before sitting back down to eat. Ryder is currently looking over the notes from the forensic team regarding lists of items found in the room. Steel pipe, two-by-four soaked in blood, four-inch combat knife, etc . He studies everything with a trained eye, writing a lot of notes down on paper.
I take our empty plates to the counter, knowing what’s about to come. I don’t need to look at it again, I see and feel the proof of it every day. So I don’t turn around when I hear the shattering of glass against the wall, and I don’t follow him when he storms past me to head out the door.
I don’t need to check the file on the table to know which photos he just looked at. I was barely conscious when they asked to take them. The close-ups of my face are not the woman I am today. My eyes were swollen shut and the entire right side of my face is virtually black. My light hair was stained crimson, and I had a feeding tube inserted through my nose because it was impossible to swallow anything thicker than water down my abused throat.
The photos of my back show the one hundred and sixty two stitches holding it together. I don’t remember much from arriving at the hospital, and I assume I was in too dire need of medical care to take all of the photos on arrival.
There are also pictures of my wrists and ankles, followed by the close-ups of my black and broken ribs. I might as well have been a dead person, because that’s exactly
“His photos of you started near university, is that right?”
I nod my head.
“Yes, but there were only a few from that time. Then there was about a year gap before it started again, and from then on they were pretty consecutive. No more gaps.”
He looks up from his notepad.
“What happened during the first gap? After university?”
It’s not hard to forget, they were some of the best memories of my life.
“The curly haired brunette in some of those photos is my best friend, Laura. We spent close to a year traveling. Everywhere from California to Italy. We’d fly somewhere for a month, spend a few weeks at home and then fly somewhere else. It wouldn’t have been easy to know where I was, unless you were a close friend of mine.”
Ryder nods his head, deep in thought before looking back to the photos and notes.
“Only the photos that are taken with your daughter, or men, are written on. I’m not a profiler Elle, but any idiot could assume that either he has strong religious views and didn’t like the fact that you had a child without being married, or he envisioned himself being the one to give that to you. Did he mention anything about that?”
Not wanting to think back on that time right now, I tell him so.
“I’d prefer if you would just look over that file, and make your own assumptions. Then maybe tomorrow we’ll sit down so I can answer your questions. You’re going to have more than just that one Ryder, and I would rather hash it all out at the same time after you’ve gone over the whole thing.”
Knowing that my suggestion is the best course of action for me right now, he nods his head and gets back to it.
“Sure, beautiful.”
The endearment comes out naturally, but I don’t acknowledge it like I usually would. Purely platonic, and strictly business at the moment is my game plan. I try my best to shut down my emotions and remain at this table like an outsider looking in. Not letting my heart or my head get too caught up in the mess that is my past.
After a short while of silence, watching Ryder go over everything with a fine toothed comb, I get up from the table and head to the fridge in search of the makings for sandwiches. My stomach doesn’t necessarily want food right now, but I know if I don’t eat I’ll pay for it later.
I make us each a chicken club and grab a few bottles of water before sitting back down to eat. Ryder is currently looking over the notes from the forensic team regarding lists of items found in the room. Steel pipe, two-by-four soaked in blood, four-inch combat knife, etc . He studies everything with a trained eye, writing a lot of notes down on paper.
I take our empty plates to the counter, knowing what’s about to come. I don’t need to look at it again, I see and feel the proof of it every day. So I don’t turn around when I hear the shattering of glass against the wall, and I don’t follow him when he storms past me to head out the door.
I don’t need to check the file on the table to know which photos he just looked at. I was barely conscious when they asked to take them. The close-ups of my face are not the woman I am today. My eyes were swollen shut and the entire right side of my face is virtually black. My light hair was stained crimson, and I had a feeding tube inserted through my nose because it was impossible to swallow anything thicker than water down my abused throat.
The photos of my back show the one hundred and sixty two stitches holding it together. I don’t remember much from arriving at the hospital, and I assume I was in too dire need of medical care to take all of the photos on arrival.
There are also pictures of my wrists and ankles, followed by the close-ups of my black and broken ribs. I might as well have been a dead person, because that’s exactly
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