With Open Arms Pt. 01

He went through the document line by line, making sure Jennifer fully understood what it meant. He had written in a way to protect her should things happen beyond her control. In the event, those things occurred, and she had invested at least three months of her time, a certain percentage of the funds would be hers at the age of twenty-one. Other exclusionary clauses protected her from being liable for breach of contract in the event they occurred. What it came down to was her Mother wouldn't be able to hold her responsible for an unforeseeable event legally, but if one did occur, the contract would become void.

There was one addendum to the agreement that made Jennifer a bit nervous. It forced her and her mother to sign a standard non-disclosure agreement.

"And what if I've already discussed my mother's proposal with someone?"

A huff from her right caused her to turn and look at her mother. "For what reason would you have possibly discussed our agreement?"

Jennifer looked over at the older woman with apparent disdain in her voice said, "Believe it or not, Mother. There are people and other things going on in my life that are important to me outside of this agreement. I value my friend's advice because, unlike you, I can always be sure they have my best interest at heart."

Her mother said nothing in response; she waved at Jennifer's lawyer to continue. He explained that anything that happened before the signing of the contracts or NDA was irrelevant. From this point forward, though, I would be unable to discuss the terms of my agreement with my mother in perpetuity.

That presented her with a problem in how to explain things to Marianne. But Jennifer would have to worry about that later.

Once they'd signed both documents, Jennifer thanked the attorney and without addressing her mother, left the room.

Exactly six months and four days later, on the evening that Jennifer's agreement with her mother had finally matured, Jennifer had finally worked up the nerve to end things with Darren. She had endured his abuse for the last several months, but no longer had to do so.

"Bitch, you don't break up with a man like me," Darren growled as he stood over her admiring his handiwork, "I own you, do you understand? The only way you leave me is because I will it to happen.

Jennifer was saved from both his criticism and further abuse by Darren's cell, starting to ring. He stalked over to the bar picking it up.

She didn't bother listening to his conversation. She fully expected it was either business-related or one of the numerous whores he was continually sleeping with several times a week. She'd never begrudged him doing so because it kept him from pawing at her body, which was worth almost any price.

No, her immediate concern was finding a way to make it to a hospital. She was reasonably sure Darren had fractured her arm when he'd kicked it. More importantly, she strongly suspected she might have internal bleeding. A result of the beating, he'd been diligently administering on her when his cell rang.

Darren shoved his cell in his pocket as he walked over to this computer and inserted a thumbdrive into its USB port. He maneuvered the mouse selecting several files before rising and looking her way.

"I have to run this drive down to the office. These files are too sensitive to risk sending them by email. Pointing to the broken glass and shattered coffee table as well as all the blood on the floor, Darren said, "I'll probably be an hour, but when I get back, I fully expect you to have this mess cleaned up. And for God's sake clean yourself up, you look like shit." He giggled maniacally at his humor as he made his way for the door.

Jennifer knew she had limited time if she was going to save herself. Darren had made a colossal mistake in believing he'd beaten her. She'd endured too much and come too far just to lay down and die right here. No, Jennifer fully intended to fight until her last breath. She just hoped that didn't come soon.

She took inventory of her situation. Darren had smashed her phone against the wall, and there was no landline in the apartment. Darren considered it an unnecessary expense when he already had both his work and personal cell phones. So calling 911 was out of the question. There was only one option open to her, she'd have to earn her way downstairs, and either flag down help or make it to her car. Jennifer wasn't sure she could drive herself to the hospital and knew that she shouldn't, but what other choice did she have?

The Devil, as she'd come to think of Darren after he'd began to physically and mentally abuse her, had probably locked out the private elevator after he'd reached the garage using the app on his cell. That left only the private stairwell and thirty floors of stairs she'd have to descend. She knew he kept the door to the stairs locked, an illegal act, but only one of many she had proof he was guilty of committing. People like Darren Rossington didn't believe the rules existed for them, no, rules were for the plebians that lived below him. He was above such things, at least in his mind. She made her way to her knees, wincing at the pain in both her ribs and arm. Her nose had finally clotted, and she was careful to breathe through her mouth as not dislodge the clot of blood in her nose. Running her swollen tongue across her gums, she could feel where he' d knocked out several of her teeth. Others felt loose, all small problems in the grand scheme of things but still disconcerting to Jennifer considering all the time she'd spent in the last nineteen years caring for them.

Using the couch, she, at last, managed to stand. The pain caused by the effort left her lightheaded and sent a wave of nausea through her stomach. She fought the urge to pass out with every ounce of her being. She knew if she passed back out, she'd never get out of here, and eventually, he would kill her, maybe not today or tomorrow, but one of these beatings he would go too far, and that would be the end of Jennifer Waters.

When at last the dizziness had passed, she looked around the room and spotted Darren's golf bag stood up next to the bar. Cautiously making her way to it, she pulled his prize driver with her right arm and proceeded to use it as makeshift support. Making her way over to his desk, she opened the top drawer and rooted around in it until she found the spare key to the stairwell. She spotted her purse still lying at the end of the bar. Making her way to it, she made sure her keys were there before placing the bag over her right shoulder and around her neck. She then took one more look around Darren's apartment, hoping she'd never see the place again.

Going down the stairway had been an exercise in patience. She had quickly discovered that only by leaning her hip against the railing and carefully easing her opposite foot to the next step would she be able to make her way to the bottom of each landing. She had a couple of scary moments where she'd felt herself becoming lightheaded again. During those times, she'd forced herself to stop and take as deep a breath as she could tolerate. Only when the feeling passed would she once again proceed to ease her beaten, battered, and bruised body back down the steps.

When Jennifer, at last, reached the bottom, she knew she was running out of time. He would be back any second, and once he discovered her, she did not doubt what he'd do. Using the key she'd taken from his desk, she unlocked the door and eased it open. She froze when she saw Darren's car sitting in its parking space. She was only able to breathe again once she noticed his motorcycle missing from its parking space. She still had time provided she got on the move now.

Throwing caution to the wind, she ignored both her fear and pain as best she could and began to hurry across the garage to her car, stopping when she could lean against it. Dropping the driver, it clanged loudly, the sound echoing off the concrete walls of the subterranean structure. She fumbled in her purse, fighting the urge to panic before finally locating them. She used the key to unlock the door of the nineteen seventy Chevy Chevelle and carefully slid behind the wheel. Wasting no time, she fired up the engine she and her father had painstakingly restored together. It had been just one of the things he'd left her in his will.

As she rounded the turns ascending to the exit, she expected any second to encounter Darren on his beloved Ducati. In the event it happened, she'd already mentally prepared herself to go straight through him if necessary. Her father had always been a big believer in the saying that it was better to be tried by twelve than to be carried by six, and Jennifer fully intended to survive any encounter.

When she made it to the top of the ramp, she took a deep breath, but as Jennifer eased out, the familiar shape of a single headlight approaching told her she'd run out of time. She gunned the engine and turned in the opposite direction thankful for the automatic transmission, had it been a manual she would have been incapable of operating the vehicle with her busted arm. Jennifer felt the cars sudden inertia press her into the back of the driver's seat as the 450 horsepower, 454 cubic inch engine growled to life. Looking in her rearview mirror, she saw Darren quickly brake before gunning the motor of the energetic bike and rocketing off after her. She knew there was no way to outrun the motorcycle. Its engine was far too powerful, and the bike too light and maneuverable for that to happen. However, the car did have one thing going for it that the Ducati couldn't match; it's sheer mass. Jennifer knew he couldn't force her from the road, and as long as she didn't stop, she was safe.

Despite the late hour, traffic was still heavy, with it being a Friday night. The first couple of lights had been in her favor, but she knew the last mile before the hospital would be the real challenge. It was a high traffic area with at least three intersecting streets, and therefore it was highly unlikely that she'd be able to make it through all three lights. The key for her would be to make it through the first light unmolested. The next two were in much more public places where even Darren would have limitations as to what he could do to her without drawing too much attention. Jennifer was so intent on making it through the light that she failed to notice him swing around to ride up beside her. When her window exploded inward, it startled her, causing her to jerk her wheel to the right. There was a thump as first her front, and then rear tires dropped off the lip of the road.

It was at that point that things had gone from bad to worse. Fate, bad luck, and soured karma all seemed to converge at that single moment as Jennifer approached the light.

Fate did its part as the light turned green a split second before Jennifer attempting to regain control of the car, yanked her steering wheel to the left. Unfortunately for all present, she overcorrected likely due to having just one eye to see out of at the time, as her car lurched back into the road she made contact with Darren's bike just as he reached through the car window and grabbed a handful of her hair. His bike immediately began to wobble as the front quarter panel of her car glanced against it. So great was Darren's anger at the thought she could consider leaving him again after the lesson he'd taught her, that he refused to let go of his prize.

It was at this particular nanosecond in time that bad luck entered the picture. Seventy-two-year-old Gladys Miller was returning from a shopping trip she'd made with her daughter-in-law Pam. Her back and feet were killing her from all the walking they'd done during the journey, and the thought of being able to soak her abused feet in a nice hot apple cider vinegar bath sounded divine. She would need to stop at the grocery store to get some as she had used the last of hers the previous weekend. The closest grocery store was several blocks to the left, so Gladys turned on her turn signal, and after making sure it was safe behind her slid out of the right lane.

Enter soured karma. The last thing Darren Rossington ever saw, beyond the windshield he went through, was the face of a very startled Gladys Miller. He never even had time for it to register that he should release Jennifer's hair, so his final act of dishonor to Jennifer Waters was to rip a large chunk of her hair out by the root. He was still holding it in his right hand when members of the county coroner's team finally removed his body from the back seat of a very upset Gladys Millers car.

For Jennifer, still fighting to correct the car's direction and regain control, there was a brief second there where she thought she had won her battle. Hope was lost, though when her head jerked to the left, followed by searing pain. It was just enough of a distraction to cause the car to lose control again, sending her careening towards the telephone pole. At that point, Jennifer gave up trying to maintain control of the vehicle. Glad that she had taken the time to put on her seatbelt before fleeing, Jennifer threw her unbroken arm up to protect her face and closed her eyes.

Now, although Jennifer was present for what came next, she wasn't conscious of it for obvious reasons. She gathered the rest over the next two years from the fireman, police officers, and paramedics who stopped by to check on her recovery. When paramedics finally reached her vehicle, it had come to rest off against the base of a nearly one-hundred-year-old oak tree. The Chevelle Jennifer and her father had spent so many hours working on had now traveled its last mile and was ready for the junk heap. The first responders that first reached Jennifer thought the same of her at first before one of them found a weak pulse, and they began the task of accessing and categorizing her injuries. A call went out for a life flight helicopter and to have it land in the parking lot of a local Catholic church. While one police officer was dispatched to make sure the parking lot was cleared and cordoned off for the landing, a half dozen others began the process of rerouting traffic while waiting for detectives and accident analysts to arrive. While waiting for that to happen, one of the officers started taking shots of the entire scene to document things in the event something got moved.

By the time the first responders had stabilized her neck with a collar and accessed the worst of her outer injuries, it became clear that getting her to a first-class trauma center was the top priority. She was carefully extracted on a backboard and carried to the top of the hill and a waiting ambulance by six burly firefighters. A short ambulance ride later, they arrived at the Catholic church to find the helicopter waiting with a full medical team on board. Once they'd loaded her, the process of accessing what had to be done to save her life began. The helicopter took off towards the best trauma center in the state.

The severe but non-life-threatening injuries included a left leg with displaced spiral fractures and a ruptured Achilles tendon. The right had multiple compound fractures with a dislocated knee. She had eight broken or fractured ribs, two of which had punctured her left lung. The trauma doctors decided the breaks had most likely occurred during the attack by Darren with the impact of the crash and the resulting crush of the seatbelt and steering wheel, providing the final impetus necessary to puncture her lung. Her spleen was ruptured as was her liver though it was never quite clear whether the beating or accident was the cause. Jennifer's bones of her left hand were crushed by impacting the steering wheel when she'd struck the tree. The right had a dislocated elbow, a stable spiral fracture of the humerus, and a broken collar bone.

Of more concern to the medical staff were the collapsed lung and a hemothorax resulting in fluid building up around the lung. It was of paramount importance to the doctors and nurses involved to get her lung reinflated and to find the source or sources of her bleed. During the surgery to repair that damage, word came back from the lab that blood and urine samples they had taken within minutes of her going into surgery had shown that her kidneys were beginning to shut down. So the nephrologist on call was summoned to help out with that issue.

It took a total of fourteen hours to stabilize her injuries and set her breaks and fractures, ensuring her limbs had proper blood flow. She spent the next two nights in the critical care unit before she was considered strong enough to undergo the next round of surgeries to repair all the skeletal damage her injuries had caused. Orthopedic surgeons spent another eleven hours repairing the displaced spiral fracture in her leg with rods and pins; Surgery was then done to fix the Achilles tendon and surgically improve the knee on the right leg.

Another two procedures were performed the next day to repair the bones in her hand, and her right elbow.

Throughout it all, Jennifer remained unconscious.

Doctors had assured her mother that despite the concussion, successive MRI's showed no brain damage. There was no apparent reason for the coma other than the brain, possibly shutting down specific processes to allow the body time to heal. They suggested she be thankful for the girl being unconscious at the moment because the pain was going to be quite bad once she did wake up.

The only thing Jennifer ever remembered from the time she was in the coma was a recurring dream where she saw her funeral. Everyone was there, including strangely enough her father. Everyone that was except the one person she most wanted to see at that moment. Marianne wasn't among the mourners; the chair allocated for her next to Charlie and Tabitha sat empty. As surreal as it was, in the background had played the VanHalen classic Running With The Devil with Darren of all people acting as DJ. Jennifer knew her brain was playing tricks on her when she focused in on the last verse of the song.

Ooh, you know I

I found the simple life ain't so simple

When I jumped out, on that road

I got no love, no love you'd call real

Ain't got nobody, waitin' at home

Runnin' with the devil

(Hold on, hold on I'm runnin' ah yeah)

Runnin' with the devil

(Ooh ooh, one more time)

The spectacle of some dream left Charlie, feeling all alone for the first time since her father died. It repeated itself over and over as if her subconscious was trying to send her a message.

It was three weeks from the day she'd entered the hospital that she awoke to find her Uncle John sitting in a chair by her bed. It took him several seconds to look up and realize she was awake before he sprang into action and headed out the door to let the nurses know she'd regained consciousness.