Reconstructing Meredith by Lauren Gallagher Read Free Book Online Page A

darkened and she pressed her lips together in a thin line.
    I put my hand on hers again, running my thumb back and forth along the inside of her wrist.
    “Go on, Meredith,” Leslie said.
    Sniffing sharply, Meredith ran her free hand through her hair, brushed a tear from her cheek, and finally spoke again. “I broke a window to get out. I went to a neighbor’s house, they called the paramedics, and at least until my throat closed to the point I couldn’t speak anymore…” She took and released a deep breath. “All I could do the entire time was beg them to help me get the window fixed before Rich found it.”
    I winced. So did Leslie.
    “Did you leave him after that?” she asked.
    “Not right away. Well, I mean, I didn’t file for divorce right away, but I didn’t go home to him. I guess the paramedics and the ER staff got suspicious, and the doctor came up with some bullshit reason for me to be admitted. They brought in a counselor, a detective, and…” She sighed. “I fought them like crazy, demanded to see Rich, defended him left and right. They called it—”
    “Stockholm Syndrome,” Leslie and I said in unison.
    Meredith nodded. “I’d just been with him so long, I’d gotten used to the way he treated me. As strange as it sounds, I’d forgotten what anything else was like.”
    I cringed. I also didn’t feel the least bit guilty for hoping Rich was now cellmates with some big, burly guy who’d long since made that fucker his cock-sucking bitch. Some big, burly guy with a lot of friends in the same cellblock. I wasn’t usually one to wish things like that on anyone, but as far as I was concerned, Rich needed to take a massive, unlubricated dose of karma right up the ass. Repeatedly.
    “I know this is difficult for you, Meredith,” Leslie said, drawing me back to the present, “but let’s talk about some of the things he did to you throughout your captivity.”
    Meredith flinched at the last word. I squeezed her hand, and we exchanged glances. Watching our joined hands, she said, “One of his favorite things in the world was to go down on me. He knew it was easy to make me come that way, so he’d tell me I wasn’t allowed to come, then he’d…” She made a frustrated gesture and sniffed. “When I came, he’d punish me.”
    I was going to be sick. I knew it. Swallowing hard, I forced myself not to. Not in front of Meredith; she’d hold back from me if she knew this affected me so deeply.
    “How did he punish you, Meredith?” Leslie asked, her voice gentle. “In general, not just for that.”
    “It depended more on his mood than what I did.” Meredith watched her thumb run back and forth along the side of my hand. “Sometimes he’d put me in my room, which was in his basement, and leave me there. Sometimes he bound me, sometimes he didn’t, but he’d leave me for… a long time. There were no windows or clocks, so I couldn’t really tell.” She focused hard on our hands for a long, silent moment. “The first few times, I’d scream that I was sorry, that I wouldn’t do it again, that kind of thing. Then I started just sitting quietly and waiting for him to come back. When I’d break down crying and apologize and promise not to do it again, he’d tell me I was a good girl and let me out. So that’s what I would do. I’d just sit quietly. After a while, all he had to do was walk through the door, and I’d fall apart, even when I hadn’t done anything wrong.”
    I put my elbow on the armrest and made a casual gesture of resting my chin on my thumb and my finger across my lips. It was all I could do not to sink my teeth into my second knuckle. Don’t get sick. Don’t fucking get sick .
    “What else did he do?” Leslie asked. Part of me wanted to scream at her to stop asking questions, but she needed to know and Meredith needed to get it out of her system, regardless of what it did to my gut or my heart.
    Meredith looked at me. I offered what I hoped was another