Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
The women here at the women's shelter watch the staff like hawks, wondering when they’ll be betrayed by them or trying to find ways to manipulate things. I learned very early on that the sneakiness is a reaction to their past traumas, and the exploitation is learned behavior from past partners.
My ears are perked, waiting to hear the rest of the news broadcast.
"If you recall, almost twelve years ago, the older brother, Graham, was in the news for stabbing his pregnant wife. The wife survived, the twin fetuses did not," the female broadcaster explains. "Graham Whitmore was given fourteen years in prison for the stabbing after he took a plea deal that didn't include fetal homicide."
I fight the urge to cover my stomach at the memories flooding back.
"Sara, are you seeing this?"
I turn, grateful for the invite but terrified they're going to include a picture that could put me in a very dangerous position.
Graham's photo flashes on the screen, and it's one of him and his younger brother, Theodore, from our wedding.
"And it looks like Theodore is heading that direction as well," the male broadcaster continues. "Theodore Whitmore has been charged with the strangulation death of a close friend after a drunken argument escalated outside a Manhattan bar last night."
"We'll update this story when we have more information. After the break, how to keep your pets cool in the coming summer months."
"That…" one of the women says, pointing to the television, where a commercial for blood pressure medicine is now playing. "Is why women don't report. Fourteen years? That's it?"
"And they let him plead down the death of the babies?" another growls.
"Men are fucking useless," one woman says. "I bet the judge was male."
She would've lost that bet.
The judge, the prosecutor who offered the plea, Graham's team of attorneys... all females. I don't know whether it was staged that way, but even the bailiff who brought him to court before his conditional release was female. Probably just another part of his legal team's silent proof that Graham Whitmore isn't a threat to women.
"Oh! Look! That new show we like has an episode airing tonight," the woman who got my attention about the news says, and just that easily, the subject is changed.
And that seems about as fast as my parents wanted me to get over what had happened to me.
They were very supportive at first, especially when Graham showed up drunk at the hospital while I was in surgery, demanding to see his wife with my blood still on his hands.
He was arrested and, at first, he was denied bail. The prosecutor considered him a flight risk given his family's resources, and they considered him a threat to the community as a whole if he were released.
It didn't take long for his legal team to get a second bond hearing date scheduled, and my parents were already starting to waver, despite it only being two and a half weeks after the attack.
The story was in the news, and people were gossiping. They just wanted it all to die down, as if they were embarrassed to be so closely connected to something so scandalous.
I went through surgery for the stab wounds, waking up in the hospital alone.
No parents, no friends, no babies.
I had only been out of the hospital for two days when the prosecution asked me to testify in Graham's second bond hearing. I could hardly walk, still hunched over from surgery. The physical pain I felt didn't even compare to my broken heart.
I struggled to sit on the stand and answer questions. I still carry the guilt of what happened that day and still struggle with the idea that if I hadn't left, maybe my babies would now be gearing up to start middle school.
The defense made me look like the perpetrator, as if the outcome of that day was all my fault. They were callous and unsympathetic, and it was more of an attack on my character.
I hadn't called the police to report Graham's violent outbursts, but I also couldn't make them understand that he hadn't ever laid a hand on me other than a rough grab of my arm or wrist until the day he stabbed me. I hadn't told anyone, not my parents, not friends. No one knew what I went through, and in the end, that didn't help me.
It came out that the woman from the shelter who was coming to help me was running late, and when she saw Graham standing on the front porch, she called the police. Some days, I'm not grateful for that call. Had she just walked away, maybe I would be comforting my children in the afterlife.
Graham was granted bond that day, and it took almost a year and a half for them to work out a plea. He never tried to contact me, but I knew better than to get comfortable.