The One that Gotaway


Slowly she awakened.  It was the throbbing ache in her body that first brought her to awareness.  Then she heard the waves crashing on the shore.  The feeling of the gritty sand against her bare skin was creating discomfort.

She tentatively moved first one arm then the other to make sure they were not broken.  Then she did the same with her legs and remarked to herself, “so far so good.”  She rolled herself onto her back.  Looking up, she saw the moon and the stars in the night sky.  A sea breeze made her shiver at its cool caress of her damp body.  She could feel the bruises with her every movement of her body.  She thought to herself, ‘I am lucky to be alive.’

Earlier that night:

She was looking for a “John” to make money for her habit.  A cute looking guy with short dark hair and tanned features stopped and asked for a “full job.”  She got in his blue Mustang and they headed for the beach.

Once at the beach however, he started to rough her up.  He held her down on the sand, manhandling her.  He ripped away her blouse and pushed up her skirt.  When she protested, he slapped her.  He took her several times both in her cunt and in her ass.  He called her a “cunt,” “whore,” and “bitch.”  While having his way, he hit and bit her.  After he was done, he left her on the beach.  Weak from her fight, she fell into unconsciousness

Now:

Now aware of where she was, she slowly sat up, the bruises telling her she was hurt.  Beside her in the sand was her blouse.  She put it on gingerly, wincing at the movement and pain.  Her skirt was bunched around her waist from her ordeal.  She stood up shakily and brought her skirt down to cover her bare ass.

She needed to get some sleep.  Looking at the houses that were along the beach, she decided to go to a house.  Making her way through the sand, she chose one.  Cautiously she climbed the stairs.

On the veranda were a few chairs and chaises lounge.  Piled on one chair were some blankets.   

She grabbed two blankets and made a cocoon of them on a lounge chase and laid down.  ‘Some sleep and I’ll be okay’ she thought to herself.  She closed her eyes, falling asleep in her blanket cocoon.

It was Micky who found her first.  He had gotten up to ride the waves.  A storm was off shore, creating some swells that even the most experienced surfer would have trouble handling. For him it would be a total rush to catch a wave and get a good ride in.

Micky had dressed in his full wet suit.  He  went out onto the veranda to get his board.  He remembered that he should take a blanket to put on the beach so he went to grab a blanket off the chaise and instead found a girl asleep under it.

The girl looked a mess, with torn clothing and bruises.  Her face showed cuts and bruises too.  Micky laid the blanket back over her and he headed back into the pad to get some help.

Micky thought he could get help from, he went to Peter.  Trying to be quiet, to let Davy sleep, Micky shook Peter to wake up. 

Peter opened an eye and looked at Micky.  “Peter, I need your help man.”

“What is it Micky?” Peter said half asleep but noticed Micky looked a bit frightened which was not like him.  Peter sat up in his bed.

“On the veranda.  There is a girl asleep on one of the chairs.”

“A girl crashed out on the porch, what do you need help for?” Peter confused on why he had been woken for such news.

Peter was about to lay back down when Micky said, “She’s hurt, real bad Peter.”

Peter got out of bed and found a pair of jeans to put on.  With his  long night shirt still on, Peter followed Micky out of the bedroom, through the house and out to the veranda.

Peter moved the blanket to reveal the girl asleep on the chair.  First he saw her face, like Micky  said, she didn’t look good.  Peter pulled the blanket further down, revealing her torn blouse and her multiple bruises.  Peter dropped to his knees beside her.  He touched her neck to see if he could find a pulse. To his relief there was one, however it was weak.

Peter looked up at Micky, formulating a plan.   “We need to clean her up.  Go to the bathroom, get the first aid kit and the antiseptic.  And a few towels and wash clothes.” 

Micky nodded and headed back in to the pad.  Peter looked down on the girl.  “Couldn’t be older than sixteen.” he said out loud.  He stood up then picked up the girl to take inside.

Peter carried her into the pad and laid her down on the couch.   Micky brought the needed supplies.

“Okay, now go fill a pan of hot soapy water.  She has sand everywhere.”

Micky headed toward the kitchen while Peter looked down at the girl.  Wondering how she wound up in such a situation.

Peter moved to take off her blouse.  While he had her sitting up, he noticed her back with deep scars.  He laid her back down on the couch and took stock of what injuries she had.   Her chest had bruises and  bite marks as was her collar bone and neck.    He worked her skirt off down her legs.  He noticed the dried blood between her thighs.  He could tell that she had been taken roughly.    Two pieces of clothing was all she had, Peter shook his head, thinking ‘how young to be out hooking.’

Micky returned with the pan of sudsy water.  He saw the dried blood and bruises on the girls body.  “Who would do that to a girl?” Micky asked.

“A sadistic bastard.” Peter answered.

Peter kneeled beside the couch. 

Peter had seen girls like her before.  It made him sad.  She probably was a run away, living who knows where, out hooking for money.  Peter doubted Micky even knew anything about that life.  He was lucky coming from a good home.  Peter had his times with his parents and had left home a few times to cool off.

Peter left it unsaid to Micky.

Peter took a wash cloth and soaked it in the warm water.  He started with her face.  He cleaned away the smeared make up and sand and blood.  She had a cut lip that was slightly swollen, and some swelling around her right temple.

Peter rung out the cloth and washed off her neck and shoulders.    Peter worked on her right arm, washing away the sand.  He noticed on the arm swollen marks.  He looked at them more carefully and understood why she was hooking.  She took drugs.  “So young,” he commented, thinking ‘why did she turn to such a drastic life.’

Micky looked at Peter, “What’s wrong?”

Peter moved his head to let Micky see her arm. “She can’t be more than sixteen.” Micky commented.

‘Life is not nice to some.’ Peter thought.  He washed down her other arm.  Carefully Peter worked on her chest and stomach.

Peter noticed that not once did she move or make a sound to having Peter wash her.  He didn’t like that.  She was either  in a deep trauma or shock that she was not feeling anything.

Peter moved lower with the wash cloth, washing around her thighs.  He moved a leg to wash between her legs.  Peter shook his head, when he realized how harshly she had been violated.
.
He rung out the cloth then he asked for the antiseptic.  He put some on his finger and worked some into her ass.  Micky watched, not believing what had happened or what Peter was doing.  “The blood is coming from her ass.” Peter told him, point blank explaining what had happened..

Micky swore under his breath.

Peter washed his hands.  He took the wash cloth again and  washed off her legs. 

Once done, Peter looked at the slender girl on the couch.   ‘We can’t keep her naked.’ Peter thought.   Peter started to remove his night shirt while he asked,  “Micky, can you get me a shirt to wear.”

Micky took off to Peter’s room to get him a shirt.  Peter worked with her to put his night shirt on her.  A little big on her but covering all respectable areas.  Peter checked her pulse again.  It was still weak, but it now sporadic.  Her body was reacting to not having anything of substance.

He wasn’t looking forward to having her wake up, freaking out about not having a hit,  but waking up in a strangers house after being raped was another.

Mike came out of the bedroom.  He saw Peter kneeling in front of the couch.  He walked over to see what was up.    He saw the battered girl on the couch. 

Peter heard Mike come over, “Micky found her sleeping on the veranda.”

Mike had seen battered girls back home when he ran with a gang but she looked worse.

Micky returned with a shirt for Peter.  Peter stood up and took the shirt from Micky.  Peter put the shirt on and moved away from the couch.

Mike looked at her face, seeing the bruise and cut.  “Ever seen her before?” he asked.

Micky and Peter both shook their head no. 

Peter folded his arms and leaned against the kitchen table.  “This girl needs help.”

“We can take her to the hospital.” Micky said.

Mike looked at Peter who shook his head.  “I don’t think Peter means that type of help Micky.”

“Oh,” Micky said.

Peter took a breath and went on.  “I’d say she is a runaway.  She is taking drugs and she hooking to pay for her habit.  She must have gotten picked up by a guy who brought her to the beach and he wanted more than a trick,” he said sadly.  “She needs help.”

Mike understood that.  He’d been in that position just a few years ago. 

“What do you want to do?” Mike asked.

“Let’s see what is up with her then see if we can help.”

Mike nodded in agreement then offered,  “Let’s get her settled in the study and we can take turns watching her till she wakes up.”

Micky headed off to the study to pull down the guest bed.



She awoke with a start.  She sat up, eyes open, however no sound came from her mouth.  She took stock of what was around her .  She was in a bed, in a room.  Last she remembered was the beach.  She looked down at herself and found herself in a night shirt.  She touched her face.  It was clean.  Again she looked around the room and she saw him. 

Peter was sitting in an overstuffed chair with his guitar.  He had been strumming, while working his time of watching the girl.  He stopped as soon as she started up. 

Now she looked at him.  Not knowing if he was friend or foe.  She remembered she had made her way to a house and fell asleep on the porch. 

Peter put down his guitar next to him and talked to her like a frightened child.  “It’s okay.  No one is going to hurt you.”   She froze sitting there in the bed.  “I’m Peter.  We found you on the veranda, asleep.”

She didn’t say anything.  He couldn’t blame her.  “You have been asleep through the whole day.  I can imagine how you are feeling.  I saw the marks on your arm.  If you want our help, I need to know what you are taking.”

She looked down, feeling ashamed that a stranger knew so much about her.  But she couldn’t resist to tell him, the need a fix was growing within her.  Soon she would feel the shakes and loneliness of not having it.

“White dust,” she answered him quietly.

Peter stood up and walked over to the bed.  He sat at the end, an arms length away from her.

“I’ll get some for you if you promise me something.” 

She looked up at him.  ‘Everyone had an angle.’ she thought. 

“I’ll get you your fix, but you have to stay here till you are better.”

“Better?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“You are a walking bruise right now.  I don’t think you would last very long if you went back out there.”

“You know?”

“I know what it is like out there.” Peter told her.  He saw her sigh.  “Lay back and try to sleep.  I’ll be back in a little while.”

She laid back on the bed and pulled up the sheet.

Peter got up and left the room.  He went out in to the living room.  Davy and Mike were playing cards at the dining room table.  Peter walked over to them.

Mike looked up at Peter, “How’s it going?”

“She finally woke up.”

“How’d she do?” Davy asked.

“Scared and ready to crash.  I’m going to run an errand.  Think you can watch her Mike till I get back.”

Mike nodded to Peter, knowing that between him and Davy, he could work with her better.

“I shouldn’t be long.”   Peter headed for the door, pulling out his set of keys.

Mike finished his hand and stood up.  He cracked his knuckles in stretching his arms.  “Guess I better see how our guest is doing.”

Davy looked at Mike.  “Why is it all the girls with problems find us?”

“Maybe someone put a sign on our door that says SUCKER.  I don’t know.”

Davy shrugged and turned back to the table, taking the cards to reshuffle them to play solitaire.

Mike picked up his book that he was reading and headed to the study.  He sat down on the overstuffed chair and started reading his book.

Over the coarse of time, she rolled on to her side.  Her head hurt, the voice in her head taunting her.  She trembled to her anxiety attack.

Peter returned to the pad with his purchases.  He was glad that his contacts had what he needed.  He made his way to the study.

Mike was sitting in the easy chair, reading his book.

“How is she?” Peter asked.

“She’s feeling bad.” Mike told him, nodding over to her. 

Peter could see her shaking form under the sheets.

Mike stood up, “I’ll go see what Davy is up to.  If you need me, yell.”

Mike left the room.  Peter went to the desk and put out his purchases.  He fixed a needle and got a cord to tie off her arm.  It had been so long since he had done it himself.  “Another lifetime.” he told himself.

Peter went to the bed, sitting on the edge.  He moved her to sit up, to look at him. 

Silent tears were running down her face. Peter took her arm and prepped it for the needle.  She watched him tie off her arm, find a vein and clean off the area with an alcoholic pad.  Peter injected the needle, filling her with her fix.  Once the act was completed, Peter released the tie, to let the drug rush through her.

She sat back, waiting for the oncoming surge.  She laid back and fell asleep once more.

Peter went back to the easy chair.  He made himself comfortable, hoping that he too would be able to get some sleep before she woke again.



She awoke again during the night, the need to use the bathroom waking her. She looked over to see Peter asleep in the easy chair. Slowly she slid from the sheets of the bed and went out the door, into the living room.  She walked around and found the bathroom along the same wall as the study.  She relieved herself with some discomfort, reminders from her beach encounter.  After coming out of the bathroom and looked for the kitchen.  Peter stood at the sink.

“Hungry?” he asked.

She nodded yes.

“Thirsty?”

Another nod yes.

Peter was hoping by now she would open up a little.  “No one is going to hurt you.  We want t o help.  We don’t judge people.” he tried to stress to her.

Peter pulled out a chair.  “Have a seat.  I’ll fix something for you.”

She sat down in the offered chair, saying thank you so lightly that Peter almost didn’t hear her.

He fixed her a glass of juice.  Then started to fix a can of soup for her.  He doubted anything else would be able to stay down.

She drank her juice and sipped her soup.  Peter leaned against the sink, sipping his hot tea.

Peter finally asked her, “What is your name?”

She looked up at him and decided that she would answer.  “Di like in ‘die for you’.”

Peter nodded thinking how ironic to go by such a name. 

“Well Di, your welcome to stay till you get back into shape.  You met Mike already.  There is Davy and Micky too.”

She nodded.

Peter asked, “Feeling better?”

“Yes.”

After a few minutes, she finished her juice and soup.  Peter picked them up and washed them out in the sink.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m bushed.  Let’s see if we can get some shut eye.”

Di got up and they walked back into the study.  She climbed into bed, While Peter made himself comfortable in the overstuffed chair.  Within a few minutes they were both asleep.




Morning was starting to come through the window.  Di heard the deep snore coming from Peter.  She couldn’t stay.  She had to leave.

She slowly moved from the bed, ignoring the pain that she felt in her muscles.  She had to ignore it. Out in the living room, she found a basket of clean clothes.  She rummaged through it.  She pulled out a sweatshirt that was her size along with a pair of jeans that seem she could wear.  She put on the clothes.  By the door she had found a pair of tennis shoes, that were not overly outsized for her.

She was finishing putting the shoes on when a curly haired guy started down the tornado stairs.

Di hoped that he was still sleepy enough that he wouldn’t notice her but he saw her.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he asked.

Di bolted.   Micky cut her off from the front door.

Micky caught her by the upper arm, “hold it there.” he called to her.

Micky wrapped his arms around her upper body when she started resisting.

“Let me go.  You can’t make me stay.” she spat out.

With the shouting, the others woke up and came to help Micky.

Micky held her while she went through her tirade.  Soon she gave up, realizing that Micky had advantage of height and strength.

“Done?” asked Micky.  She nodded and he let go of her.

She stood in front of them feeling totally naked and vulnerable.

“Where were you going?” Peter asked.

She shrugged.

“We want to help you.” Peter told her.  “You are in no shape to be out there.  You know that.”

Mike decided to make a change to see if it would work.  “Since we are all up, how about some breakfast.”  Mike moved off.  Davy got the hint.  Peter turned and gave Micky a nudge to go to the kitchen.

Leaving her standing the living room alone, they offered her the choice.  She could stay or walk out the door.   Tears came to her eyes.  She knew she should go, but they were offering to help her.  No one had done that.

She went to the couch and sat down.  Tears came to her.  Crying other than from a need was unusual for her.  She thought she forgot how to cry just to cry.

Peter looked from the kitchen to see what she was doing.

Davy came up behind her, “How’s it going?”

“She sat down on the couch.  I think she’s staying.” he told him.

Peter turned back to the guys.  Mike was cutting sausage patties to fry.  Micky was breaking eggs to scramble.

“You think she hit bottom?” Mike asked.

Peter pulled the bread out of the bag and popped it into the toaster.  “I don’t know.  She won’t say much.  I think I’ve heard a total of ten words out of her.”

Micky looked at him, “It’s like the old ideal, for a woman, be seen but not heard.”

Peter nodded.  He figured there was many things about Di that would have to heard before she could move on.

After a few minutes, Mike told Peter, “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.” 

Peter took that as his cue to go get Di.

She was still sitting on the couch.  The tears had stopped but their trail still evident on her face.

“You okay?” Peter asked.

Brushing her cheeks subconsciously, she nodded yes.

Peter sat down on the couch.  “We do know what you are going through.  Mike was in a gang back home in Texas.  I ran away a few times and got into things.  Davy has been on his own since he was sixteen.  Micky has had a good life, but he knows the pain of losing a loved one.”

She looked at Peter, “you ran away?”

Peter nodded, “My dad and I didn’t see quite eye to eye about school and my music.  It was his way or the highway.”

Di nodded to that.

“Anyway, it’s time to eat.  After breakfast I’ll head to the thrift store and get you some clothes.  As much as you make Davy’s cloths look good on your figure, I think he might want them back.”

Di gave a conditioned chuckle to the remark.  Peter smiled at himself, he got a laugh out of her.  It showed there was a life under that dark facade the shadowed her.



Di ate breakfast in silence.  She listened to the guys banter back and forth about different things.  Near the end of the breakfast Mike brought order to the mayhem.

“Okay guys, lets go over the order of the day.”

Micky saluted to Mike. “Yes sir.” he mocked.

“Peter is going to the thrift store and see what he can find for Di to wear.”

Davy added in, “I don’t know, she makes that sweat shirt look kind of sweet.”

Di blushed to the comment.

Mike cleared his throat.  “We have a gig tomorrow night, so I advise an afternoon session.  We are playing the Fairfield Country Club and we might get some additional work there.”

All agree to Mike’s authority in calling a practice session.

Mike then asked the guys, “Who has dishes this week?”

“He does.” Micky, Davy, and Peter said in unison pointing to their right to the next person.

Mike shook his head and got up.  “I’ll do them.  Scat.” he told the troops.

Micky and Davy took off for their bedrooms.  Peter got up too.  “Okay Di?” Peter asked.

She nodded.  She ate a little bit of the food.  She wasn’t used to eating food offered so freely.  She had been scrounging for so long she had to think back to her memories for a real meal.

Peter went to take a shower and changed to go shopping.

Mike started picking up dishes and going to the sink and garbage can.   Di got up and picked up some dishes and followed.  Together they scraped off the dishes and washed, rinsed and dried the dishes.  They were done in the kitchen when Peter returned to the kitchen, dressed in brown cords and his favorite tan tunic.

“That was quick.” he commented, seeing the kitchen picked up and the dishes washed.

“I had help.” Mike told him.

Peter smiled at Di.  “I’m on my way.”

Mike went over to a shoe box.  Lifting the lid he thumbed through the bills and pulled out a ten.  He handed it to Peter. 

Peter headed out the front door to go shopping.  Di heard the car start up and pull out.  Di wondered into the living room.  She found a few books on an end table, picking one up and she sat down indian style on the couch.  She opened the book and started reading.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had the time to read.  She loved reading.  She couldn’t carry many things with her since she had left her supposed home.

Mike had gone to the table and sat down with a notebook.  He was running through the song line up for the party.

A short time later they heard the car pull up.  Di looked at Mike, “It’s a GTO, it sounds sweet doesn’t it?”

Peter came into the pad carrying two bags.  He had gone to the thrift store and picked up a few items and then a department store to pick up some essentials.

Di got up from the couch to see what Peter had gotten.  “I found a pair of jeans that I think will fit, a few t shirts and a sweater.  Thought you needed a  night shirt and bought you some essentials and gym shoes from the department store.   Afraid not very stylish but it will work for a few days.”

Mike looked to Di.  “Why don’t you take a shower.  Davy and Micky went back to bed, so no one will bother you.”

Di took her new clothes to the study and pulled out the jeans and a t shirt.  Peter had bought her some underpants and a bra.  She went to the bathroom.

She took off her clothes and turned on the water of the shower.  She tried her best not to look at her body.  She knew it was marked with brown and purple bruises, she felt them every time she moved.  She washed down her body and rinsed.  She washed her hair. 

She emerged from the shower feeling a bit better.  She dressed in her new clothes.  The jeans were a bit loose but the t shirt fit fine.  She came  out of the bathroom and back to the study.  She put on some socks and the gym shoes.

Di did feel better, but still sore in her movement.  She returned to the living room.  Micky and Davy were back downstairs.  Peter was making sandwiches.

She walked into the kitchen.  Peter turned around and smiled at her.   “Want to help?” he asked.

She nodded.  Peter figured till they find out why she doesn’t talk much, he would take it easy with the questions.

“Take the plates and bowls and set the table.  I’ll finish up with the sandwiches and get the soup ready.”

Di found the plates and bowls and cutlery.  She added napkins to the table.

In a few minutes, Peter had the food on the plates.  He called out, “Food.”

The others came to the table and sat down to eat.

Micky looked aver to Davy, “Want to go out tonight?” he asked him.  “Cheryl has a friend and won’t leave her home to go out tonight unless I find someone.”

“Why not?” Davy said.  “No plans meself.”

“Tina is out of town, visiting her folks in Arizona.” Mike told them.  “So a good night home for me.”

Di listened to them talk about girls and then there was change of conversation went to their music.  They discussed the order of the songs.

After lunch Davy cleared the table.  Di came up by him, “I’ll do them.” she told him.

Davy looked at her, “How about we do them together love.” They worked in the kitchen together, clearing dishes and washing up.

They went to the living room when they were done.   Mike was sitting on a stool with his twelve string guitar.  Micky was setting up his drums for the practice.  Peter had his bass strapped on.

Davy escorted Di to the couch, “Now for your listening pleasure, we will entertain you with our music.  May I present to you, The Monkees.”

Davy went to take his position in the middle, between Peter and Mike.

The guys run through their line up.  After two hours, the boys called it a wrap.  Mike seemed satisfied with what they did.

Micky and Davy go upstairs to get ready for their dates. 

Peter moved to the piano and started playing little diddies.  Peter went into a rendition of ‘Eleanor Rigby’.  From behind he heard a soft voice singing with it.  He continued his playing for the whole song.  Peter changed tunes to play ‘Yesterday’.  Again she sang the lyrics. 

Peter finished up playing and turned around.

Di had a book open, reading it.  If she was aware of what she had done, she wasn’t letting on.

Peter shook his head and headed for the kitchen, “Want any thing?” he asked Di.

She shook her head no.

Peter wondered if they were going to break the silence.  He hoped they would.



Davy and Micky came down dressed for their dates at seven.   They left in a rush.  Di had gone off to her room.  Peter went to check on her then returned a few minutes later to talk to Mike.

Mike was sitting on the veranda.   Peter sat down next to him in a chair.

“How many words have you heard from her?” Mike asked.

“Quite a few actually.” Peter smiled.  He went on to explain.  “After we finished rehearsal, I played the piano.  She sang.” Mike looked at Peter as if in disbelief.  “I don’t know if she knowingly did it.  She was reading one of your books.  But she did sing.”

“Think she’ll stay?” Mike asked.

Peter didn’t know that one.  “She’ll stay long enough to heal.  I don’t know more than that.”

After some time,  Mike turned in..  Peter went back on the veranda, lighting up a homemade cigarette of weed.  It was one of his outlets to let him mellow out from the daily problems around him.

Di came out.  Dressed in the jeans and with Davy’s sweatshirt.  She sat down next to him.   Peter handed her the roll and she took a hit, then passed it back.

For a few minutes they smoked till it was no more, then sat back in their chairs listening to the waves, letting the mellow drug take affect.

“Peaceful.” she said.  Eyes closed she listened to the surf.

Peter didn’t answer, seeing what she would do.

“I can’t remember a day that I hadn’t had to worry about staying alive.” she went on to say.

Peter could only hope she would say more. “How long have you been on your own?” he asked.

“Over three years.” she answered simply.

Peter was curious in how old she was and asked her.

“Eighteen.”

After a few minutes Peter couldn’t resist to ask her the big question “What happened?  What brought you out on the streets?”

“Everything.” she answered.  A stranger to know, to know what her life was.   Her strict code of not talking was falling to the side with the feeling of softness of the buzz of the weed and the soft voice of Peter.

She opened her eyes, looking out over the water.  The memories returned of why.  Her defensiveness returned to the bitterness that she had learned from the street.  “Why do you want to know?  No body cares about me.”

“That’s not true.  We care about you.  And you can’t move on till you deal with the past.  You are in a cycle right now.  If you deal with it, you can move on.  Find a better life than the one you are in now.  I should know I lived that way for a few years.”

She didn’t know where to begin, there was so much that had happened to cause her to be on the streets in L.A.  The think of it now, to try to make sense of it, she couldn’t seem to get it into a logical order.

“I don’t know what to say.” the puzzlement and confusion coming through her voice.

“Just talk.” Peter told her.  “No one can hurt you.”

She sat for a moment, trying to figure what to say.  “I never knew my father.  He wasn’t married to my mother.” she started out.  “My mother didn’t love anyone, least of all me.  We moved all the time, town to town, state to state.  She dated men, many men.  She was a hooker.”  Di looked at Peter then settle back down in her chair.  “I would hear her every night, coming home with her “John” and they go at it in her bedroom.”

“Then I turned fifteen...” she stopped.

Peter turned to  her.   “What happened Di?”

She got up and stood at the railing.  She stared in front of her, searching the blackness that was out there but could hear the waves.  That night came back to her.  “She brought a man to the apartment and told me it was my turn to bring in the money.  She sold my virginity.”   Tears came to her.  Tears that she had held back from the day she left her mother behind to find somewhere else, any where else but there with a woman that could hurt her so.

Peter came up behind her, he took her in his arms when she started crying.  “That’s it, cry.  It’s okay to cry.” Peter said softly.

Peter rocked her, holding her, reassuring her.    The sob’s slowly abated, Di let herself enjoy the feeling of being held, something she only dreamed about.

“What brought you to L.A.?” Peter asked trying to change the subject a bit but gathering information.

“I wound up here six months ago.  I hooked because it’s the only way I could earn money.  Sometimes I get beat up, sometimes I get lucky and have a nice guy.” she told him.

“The drugs?”

“I tried it, and kept trying it.  Skirm gave it to me.”

“Who’s Skirm?”

“One of the guys on the street.  He sort of runs things in the area.  He leaves me alone if I do him favors.”

“What type of favors?”

“He fuck me.  He gets his and he let’s me live.”

Peter knew the likes of Skirm, the worst type of bully one could find.

“I hope you like it here.  And stay awhile.  We can try to think of something to help you.”

“I may be beyond help Peter.” she sighed.

“No one is beyond help.  Mike and I are living proof of that.”



Di woke up early.  She rarely slept longer than four hours at a time.  Always on the look out of possible problems.  Relaxing was not an option.

She dressed in jeans and Davy’s sweatshirt.  She wanted to sit on the beach and watch the waves.  There was something about them that intrigued her.  She wanted to see if she could figure it out.

She walked into the living room.  Finding a paper and pen, she left a note on the kitchen table that she was on the beach.  She didn’t want them to have a heart attack about her leaving again.

Di went outside and walked down the back stairs.  The soreness in her body was not as bad as it had been the day before.

She was halfway to the water’s edge when she sat down.  The waves were a bit high, showing the effect of the storm that lay off shore.  The water was moving fast and crashing hard.  Di felt like that inside.  Crashing.  She had come to her end.  She could only hope that she had enough inner strength to make land.

She lost track of time, watching the water.

Soon Micky was on the beach with his board.

“Hi there.” Micky said.  “You’re up early.”  He dropped the blanket next to her then stood up his board in the sand.

He straightened out the blanket.  “Saw your note on the table.  Good, I don’t think I could take Peter freaking out this early in the morning.” he smiled.

Di gave a small laugh.

“He’s the mother hen type if you haven’t notice.  And Mike.  His the father of father’s.  But he’s okay.”

Micky put the catch line of his board around his ankle and looked out to the ocean.  “Look’s good does in it?”

Di nodded.

Micky picked up his board and walked out to the water and once it was mid thigh, he got on his board and started to paddle out to the waves.

Di watched him catch a fairly good size wave.  He maneuvered to be in front of the curl and stayed there for a few moves then tossed out.   Again Micky moved into position and took a wave on.  But he made a wrong turn almost right off and crashed in the surf.  Micky regained his board and paddled out looking for a third ride.  He took off on the ridge and road a wave from formation to it’s spent surf.

Micky came back up and stuck the board in the sand and dropped onto the blanket. 

“Have fun watching?” Micky asked.

Di nodded to him.

“You know it is okay to talk.” Micky told her.  “No one is going to tell you to shut up or anything.”

“It’s an old habit to break,” she told him.  “When you learned at an early age not to make a sound for fear of a beating, you don’t say anything at all.”

Micky was taken aback.  “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.  You didn’t know.”  She looked ahead at the crashing waves.

“Like the beach?” Micky asked.

“Never been on one long.  I like watching the waves.  The waves are like my mind.  Crashing.”

Micky agreed, he liked riding that energy.  “It’s a rush to ride one.  Managing it.  Taking control of the chaos below you.”

Di nodded, the waves were the chaos of her life, crashing down and puttering out at the end as they approached the sand.

They heard a whistle.  They both turned to see Mike standing on the veranda.

“Breakfast.” Micky announced with a smile.

They got up.  Micky got his board and Di picked up the blanket and they headed to the pad.


After breakfast the band did another run through of their songs.  After lunch they packed up their gear and stowed it in the car.

Mike sat down on the couch to relax a little while before having to get ready to go to the country club.  Di walked in with another book she had started reading.

Mike had a thought, in regards to Di.  The bruise on her temple was turning black   He was impressed that she talked a little at breakfast and at lunch.  He could feel that she was still uncomfortable with the attention they give her.

“Di?” he asked.

Di had been making the effort to be vocal after talking with Micky.  “Yes?”

“Do you think you will be okay being alone tonight?  I’m sure we can find someone to come over.”

“I think I’ll be fine.  Between the book and sleeping I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll leave the phone number of the country club for you in case of emergency.  One of us will probably call at the break.”

Di looked at Mike. She walked over to him and sat down on the couch.  “Thank you Mike.”

He shrugged like it was nothing out of the ordinary to do.

“Not many people would help someone like me.”

“I know that feeling.  I was running with a gang for awhile and finally had enough of jumping others because they were different.”

“How did you get out?” she asked.

“Got smart and stupid.” he laughed.  “I had a firework blow up in my hand.”  He showed her his hand, a few scars here and there still could be seen.  “Doctor told me to get a guitar to get the dexterity back in my fingers.  Seems I had a talent for picking tunes and taking my thoughts to paper.   Soon I was playing in honky tonks in Texas and decided to hitch a ride to L.A.”

Di smiled.   “Wish I had talent like that.”  She remarked.

“You might have it.”

They talked for awhile.  Finally Mike got up to go get ready for the gig.

Peter came down dressed in the “uniform”, blue jeans, the double front blue shirt.   Peter sat down in the easy chair that was opposite the television and turned it on.

Di wasn’t interested in television.  She didn’t have one growing up.  She went back outside, and sat on the railing, watching the waves once again.

A short time later, Davy came out onto the veranda, dressed in the band uniform for the night.

“Hello love.”

“Hello.” she responded.

“What are you watching?”

“The waves.”  Davy looked out to the ocean that he took for granted.

Davy looked back at her.  “I just wanted to let you know.” he started then stopped.

“Know what?”

“I’m glad you stayed.”

Out of the four guys, Davy had been the most stand offish other than for lunch yesterday.  He hadn’t said much.  “I’m glad too.”

They heard the whistle from inside the pad.  Davy elaborated, “Mike is ready.” he announced.

They returned to the living room.

“I left the number by the phone.”

Di nodded.

The guys headed towards the door, she called after them.  “Have a good night guys.”

Di toiled around the house, she even tried watching television.   She fell asleep in the easy chair.

Memories haunted her sleep.  The beatings, the fights, all came back to her.  She woke up from her sleep with the phone ringing.

She quickly got up and answered the phone.  “Hello?” she said breathlessly.

“Di, Micky.  You okay?”

She tried to wake up enough to talk, “Fell asleep in front of the television.”

“Peter does that all the time.  Just checking in.  We’re on break.”

“I’m okay.”

“Good, I don’t think we’ll be to late.  Older crowd if you get my drift.  Well I’ll tell Mike you’re okay.  Good night.”

“Good night Micky.”

Di hung up the phone and returned to the easy chair.  She had remembered in her sleep that she needed to go back to the streets.  She had to get her backpack.  It was in one of the condemned houses in Ranchero.  She knew her friends that she shared it with would keep it for her but she couldn’t stay away very long.  People came and went regularly. 

She started thinking on getting down to Ranchero.


Di woke up early.  She wanted to get up before the others so she could do what she had to do.  She had to go back to the condemned house to get her bag.  She had few possessions and she wanted to get them before all her friends left the house.

Dressing in jeans and a sweatshirt, she went to the living room and wrote a note that she would be back as soon as she could, that she wasn’t running away.  She was done with that.

She went to the money box and to find some change to take the bus downtown and back.  When she was in the box, Mike came in off the beach.

She looked guilty and felt guilty.

Mike waited for her to explain.  “I needed some change for the bus.” she told him.  “I have to get my stuff.” she told him. 

Mike saw the paper on the dining room table.  He took it and read it.  “Why didn’t you ask for help.” he asked. 

She shrugged she wasn’t used to these four guys being there. 

“Let me get changed and I’ll drive you down there.” 

Mike went up to his room and changed into jeans, and a t shirt.  He added a switchblade to his back pocket.  Peter had told him about some of the people that Di knew.  He wasn’t taken a chance.

Mike went back down stairs and escorted Di out to the car.  They drove down to the Ranchero area.  Some the buildings had been condemned for they has been seriously damaged with an earthquake.

Mike parked a block north of the street.  He walked with Di to the fenced off area.  She climbed the fence as did Mike and headed off to a building. 

“Is there an easier way in?” he asked

  “Yea, but then you have to see the Gate Keeper.” 

“Gate Keeper?” 

“You pay him to have access.  It’s one of Skirms way of getting money from us.” 

“Us?”

“Runaways.  We pay part of our findings to him for protection.”

“Protection, from what?” 

“Him?” she answered.  They walked into a building and went up some stairs.  They went up to the second floor.  She stopped in front of a door and looked in.  She shared space with two others,  Tara from Georgia and Coler.  No one was inside.

She pulled Mike in behind her.  She looked through the room and found her back pack under some bedding. 

“Got it.” she announced to Mike.  It wasn’t much but it was all she had of her past.

They left the room and ran into four guys blocking their way. 

“Di.” she heard from the front guy. 

“Skirm.” she said. 

Mike looked at the guy.  He has about 5‘8" with a bit of muscle.  But his three friends outsized him.  A true punk. 

“Where you been?” he asked. 

Skirm looked behind her seeing Mike.  “Who’s the dead weight?” he asked 

The guys moved a bit to circle them. 

Skirm came over to Di and laid his hand on her shoulder.  “You didn’t answer me when I asked where you been?”  He took her jaw in his hand. 

“I had a bad night two days ago.  I was recovering.  Now I’m leaving.”  She told him out right. 

“You were going to leave without giving me a good bye Di.  That is not nice.”  Di’s heart started racing.  That is what she was afraid of.   If it was just her, she wouldn’t care, but Mike was there.

Di looked into Skirm’s eyes.  She had to do something to protect Mike.  “I’ll give you a good bye if you have Don and Ace escort Mike out.”  

Skirm smiled.  He liked Di.  “Okay, your friend gets out and you and I will have a little time together.”  

She turned to Mike.  He understood.  It was a no win situation if he acted out. Di gave him her back pack, he nodded his understanding to her.  He left with Don and Ace, hearing Skirm say, “I missed you Di.”

Mike leaned against the car, hoping that soon Di would return. 

Di returned to the car an hour later.  She didn’t say anything to Mike, she just got into the car.  They returned home.  She went straight to the bathroom and took a shower.  Mike put down her back pack and headed out to the veranda. 

He had never felt so useless.  Peter saw Mike and came up to the veranda from the beach.  He saw Mike’s dark mood.  “What happened?” 

“I helped Di get her stuff at the house she was staying at.  We ran into Skirm.” 

Peter could just imagine the encounter. 

“He had three friends with him.  He wanted a good bye fuck with Di.  I couldn’t do anything.  She offered herself to him to get me out of there.” 

“Where is she?”

“In the shower.”

“You and I know, we have to do things that we don’t think is right.  She knows as well as you, you couldn’t do anything.”

“But I went to protect her.”

  “Mike, she’s been on the streets for three years.  That is longer than either of us.  She knows the rules.”

Mike seethed for a few more minutes then returned to the living room. 

The shower had stopped.  Di emerged from the shower in a robe.  Peter looked at her, trying to convey his question. 

“I’m okay Peter.  Skirm can be overbearing but he never hurt me unintentionally.  I played his rules to keep alive.”  She went over to Mike.  “Thank you.” she wrapped her arms around him.


Mike held her close.  “I’m sorry.” he told her.

“Don’t be.  I’m hoping I never have to see that place again.” 

Peter smiled, they were making progress with her.  She didn’t want to go back.  That was a good start.


Di opened her back pack up.  Inside were two books, one a diary and the other a bible, a small box that held photographs, some jewelry and a stuffed teddy bear. 

Di sat at the table and opened the box of photographs.  She spread them out on the table.  The guys looked over her shoulder.  She explained the people in them.

Several photographs were of her grandmother.  Di had spent a few summers with her before her mother had moved them to far away to see her.

“When was the last time you saw her?” Micky asked.

“When I was twelve.  We went for a week to see her.”

“Seems like you had a good time there.”

Di looked at a picture of herself with her grandmother.  She did enjoy it there.  Then it dawned on her what Micky was implying.

Di opened up her diary to the front.  She had their number in her book if it hadn’t changed since leaving.   She went to the phone and dialed the number, fingers crossed.

After a few rings the phone was answered.

“Hello,” she heard.

“Marie?  Marie Felton?”

“This is her daughter, Anna.”

“Aunt Anna?” she asked.

“Aunt Anna?  Who’s this?”

“Anna, it’s Diana.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.  Then someone else came to the phone.  “Diana?”

“Grandma?”

“Diana, child.  Where are you?”

“California.”

“California?  What happened child.”

“Momma, she ... tried to get me into her business.  I ran away.”

“When she told us you left, I prayed you would be safe.  I know your Momma never did you any good.”

“I want to come home.”

“We’ll work it out.  Diana, I want you to know, your Momma won’t bother you.”

“Why, what happened.”

“Someone killed her last year.”

Diana went white, she couldn’t answer.  Mike took the phone.  “Mrs. Felton....”  Peter helped Diana to a seat.

“She’s dead.”

“Who’s dead.”

“Momma.  Grandma said she won’t bother me.”

Peter saw that she was going into shock.

“Diana,” Peter told her, “Think of what you can remember of the good times.  Remember them.”

She looked at Peter, “There weren’t any with her.  She yelled at me to be quiet, I couldn’t play.  She took me down the road I had no choice in.”

“You have a choice now.”

Mike hung up the phone.  “Your Aunt Anna is going to send you a plane ticket for home.  It’ll be about two weeks.  It will give you some time to heal and get ready to go home.”

Diana smiled at that.  She never thought about it.

Peter gave her hug, “Congratulations.”

“For what?”

“You got away.  Now you get to go home.”

 

@ 2005 Tommy Boy fan fiction * design and content by Paula C. *