I pull up my other hand to the steering wheel, squeezing it tighter as we drive out of the city into one of the surrounding suburbs of Chicago. Violet reaches over and touches my arm, smiling at me with affection and tenderness, the sun shining bright on her face. She's all grown up now, but her features still reminisce of the child she was, pure beauty and innocence.
"It's going to be okay, you know. I'm here for you." Her words reassure me once more that I'm not in this alone.
We're heading to the house of Tim's parents, a place I have tried to avoid even on one of the better circumstances. Heading there now just makes it all the more dire, but if anyone knows anything, it would be them, the enabling parents that have allowed their son to become this monster.
I've never confirmed whether or not they knew of his behavior, but how could they not? There were countless times they came over, where I would have swelling on my face, bruises on my arms and legs. They've avoided asking for the cause of my injuries, showing that they would rather plead ignorance to the vicious reasons behind it. They couldn't confront the fact that their only son, which they have coddled and entitled since the day he was born, could be doing such an unspeakable thing. Therefore, they remained oblivious, hiding behind their uncertainty.
A hard gust of wind slightly shakes the car, suddenly causing me to feel an involuntary chill down my back. It brings a longing for a warmth, a warmth that I've experienced very recently.
Taylor has offered to come along, but I rejected the idea of him meeting Tim's parents. Especially after a night such as that night, I need to sort out my feelings. He is no one more than a stranger, granted that he has seen me more times I've seen him, but a stranger nonetheless. Yet, I have allowed myself to familiarize my skin with his touch, invited such ludicrous rendezvous when that couldn't be the farthest thing from priorities.
I had awakened, tucked under my comforter instead of his arms, my towel still wrapped around me, untouched, only leaving a note on my nightstand.
Jasmine,
I couldn't help but look at you while you slept, your breathing completely exhausted from everything you have been through. I carried you to your bed, wishing I never had to let go of your delicate body from my arms. I wish I could have changed you from your damp towel, but that would have been disrespectful of me. Then I realized I wanted to be that towel for you. Absorbing all of your agony, your tears. And in return, I just want you to see the positivity that your life has to offer. The light in this darkness. Because Jasmine, you are the light that this life needs.
-Taylor
I had washed the royal blue towel, folded it, and tucked it in the drawer of my nightstand, placing Taylor's note on top of it. I can't understand why he is so drawn to me, but I will have to keep my guards up.
This feeling that I have for him is of no importance at the moment, no matter how adamant it is. I can't let myself get sidetracked. I have to step away and build a wall to my emotions because my heart can only tolerate one emotion right now.
We pull up to the driveway that circles the massive two story house with perfectly manicured lawn lined with little shrubs of pines, replacing the summer flowers that were once there. It looks like something straight out of a magazine. It feels so...artificial.
Approaching the glass French doors, we ring the doorbell and are greeted by the Walkers, a couple who is merely in their sixties.
Truth be told, I am quite surprised that a butler hadn't greeted us, yet the owner had opened their doors to us themselves.
I meet the familiar, yet alienated, faces. Shannon Walker makes no expression, as her overly-botoxed skin resisted her every movement. Followed by her slim figure, large breasts, and designer clothes, she could be cast for the Real Housewives of Chicago. The man standing next to her is visibly older, chunkier, with glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He has long given up on his appearance, letting his wife take the spotlight.
"James. Shannon." I nod at them as I step inside. After being with Tim for two years, I've only been here a handful of times, usually during the holidays. Being around his parents made me felt suffocated, like I was always being judged. So I was grateful for the rarity in our meetings.
Passing the hallway full of generic photos of a supposedly happy and perfect family, we follow them to the dining room and take a seat at the rectangular table with room for twelve more people. When everyone have finally taken their seats, I initiate the conversation.
"Have you heard anything?" I break the silence. "From Tim?"
"We've been over this with the police, Jasmine. We would have contacted them if we heard anything," Shannon takes the lead, as she usually does.
James sits beside her, fidgeting with his fingers. He might have brought home the money, but she ran the show. How can a strong woman like her ever allow her son to hurt another woman?
"He's your spoiled ass brat of a son, for Christ's sakes, Shannon," Violet lets out, not filtering her animosity towards them. "You expect us to believe that he hasn't reached out to you and begged you to save him? We don't care about him. But what about Daisy? Your granddaughter for fucking sakes! Have some sympathy."
Their calmness boils my blood. Because I can tell they're holding back something, but once again they are protecting him.
"Shannon. James. Please," I'm begging now, trying to subdue my anger. "We all know what he has done to me all these years. I don't blame you, because I've never even stepped up for myself, so how can I have expected you to defend me? But none of that matters right now. I just want my daughter back. I won't press charges. I won't go looking for him. As far as I know, he would have never existed in our life, as long as Daisy is safely back with me."
"What a childish thought, Jasmine. He's going to be charged with kidnapping if he returns. That's entirely out of your hands, hun. What would you do if it was your son?"
Shannon doesn't miss a beat, but she's not getting ahead of me this time.
"What would you do if it was your daughter? Snatched from your arms, while she was screaming and crying for you? Knowing that she's out there without her mother? Knowing that she is in danger?" I swallow my tears. I will not be intimidated by her. Not this time.
Shannon's reaction is unbothered. She shows no emotions because she has no emotions. "Like I said, I would have contacted the police if I knew anything. I would do what I think is best for Daisy at this point."
Something about the way she said that does not sit right with me.
"You know nothing about what is best for Daisy, seeing how your son has turned out." I could swear she winces slightly at my statement, more reaction than I have ever seen before.
"As envious as I am of Tim for having parents that can love and protect him unconditionally, how can you sleep at night knowing what he's done, not helping him right his wrongs?"
She doesn't even look me in the eyes now, her expression unreadable, processing thoughts that will never be heard.
Regardless, this conversation is pointless. I thought if they witnessed my desperation and see for themselves what heartbreak I was experiencing, they would give in and do what any grandparent would do. But instead, they continue to shield their son, still trying to make excuses as to why he would do what he did.
I motion for Violet to stand up and leave, no longer able to bear the vileness that portrays before me. As I'm turning away from the dining room, I see it. The pink telephone toy!The same one that Daisy was still holding onto when he took her from me. It is there on the family room floor under their coffee table.
Impossible. She was here. Daisy was here! She was recently here!
Shannon catches my eyes. "I have bought one and left it here so she could have played with it whenever she came over."
I haven't even spoken a word and she is already on the defense, knowing exactly what I was referring to. Lies. I bought that only a week before the fight. Neither of them has been over since then. She was so quick to cover her tracks that she didn't even bother to let me make the assumption first.
All senses cease to exist for me at this point, and I can only see red, wanting nothing more than to rip her lying tongue out.
"You cruel, cold-hearted bitch!" I lunge at her, ready to inflict the pain on her that I am feeling inside. Violet runs to me and jerks me back before I can make contact with Shannon's face.
"Jasmine, don't!" Why is she stopping me? "Don't let her get you like this. You know them and their lawyers. Don't let them win like this. Just don't, Jasmine!"
"Give her to me!" I'm sobbing hysterically, ignoring Violet's words. "You tell that psycho to give me back my daughter! He's done enough to me. Give. Me. Daisy!"
They are backed up against the dining table. Looking more horrified than I've ever seen them before, yet, not disclosing a single word. They have never seen me like this. This loud. This violent. They cannot even imagine what I am capable of beyond this.
Violet manages to drag me out of their front door, shoving me into the passenger side of the car. My vision becomes blurry, my chest huffing with each stinging breath I take. The house minimizes as Violet peels off the driveway. I can hear her start to cry, and I know she is just as furious as I am.