{"id":1183,"date":"2019-02-14T12:18:41","date_gmt":"2019-02-14T17:18:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/read.whitefire-publishing.com\/?p=1183"},"modified":"2020-06-01T09:07:12","modified_gmt":"2020-06-01T13:07:12","slug":"jasmine","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/jasmine\/","title":{"rendered":"Jasmine"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Jasmine<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

by April McGowan<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

She survived her past\u2026but how can she face it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jasmine is a survivor. She \u2019s lived through the abuse of her father, running away at age fourteen, and living on the streets. Now she counsels at-risk young women\u2014giving them a second chance at life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But when her mother dies,  can Jasmine go home again and face all she\u2019s forced herself to forget for the last twenty years? Or will the past she has long forgotten take over her present once again?<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t

Chapter 1<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

The\ncold from the linoleum floor cut through Jasmine\u2019s jeans as she sat with her\nback braced against the hospital wall. Her eyes sagged closed as her mind\nwhirred from exhaustion and worry. Sleep beckoned, and strange images flitted\nthrough her mind, flashing in odd synchronicity with the flickering\nfluorescents overhead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Someone\njiggled her shoulder, pressing down, squeezing. Survival instincts kicked in,\nand she reached back to draw her knife from the waist of her pants. When her\nfingers came up empty, her other hand came around and snatched the throat of\nher attacker. Her foggy mind engaged as her assailant choked out her name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJazz?\u201d\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jasmine\u2019s\neyes widened in recognition, and she released her grip. Officer Banner sank\nback on the floor, scooting away from her, rubbing his throat, and coughing.\nShe ran her fingers through her hair and avoided eye contact, hoping he\nwouldn\u2019t ask for an explanation. There wasn\u2019t one\u2014none worth giving. He should\nknow better than to touch someone who was asleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s\ngoing on?\u201d Jasmine stood on shaky legs, glancing toward the hospital room door.\nShe tucked a loose strand of black hair behind her ear and stretched. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Open\nmouthed, Officer Banner stared at her. \u201cI was going to tell you she\u2019s awake.\u201d\nHe continued to rub his throat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood.\u201d\nAvoiding his stare, she hurried toward the room. Before she could enter, his\npartner came out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOfficer\nGerry.\u201d She greeted the female officer with a nod.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJazz.\nDid you see what happened?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\nI found Misty outside our complex. I\u2019d just finished a late dinner when I heard\nher scream, and I ran out. She\u2019d been beaten, and by the time I got out there\nshe was unconscious. I called an ambulance, and we\u2019ve been here since waiting\nfor treatment. What time is it, anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ned\nBanner glanced at his watch. \u201cZero-four-hundred.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHas\nMisty said anything about the attack?\u201d Jasmine caught the look Gerry shot to\nBanner. \u201cWhat?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe\u2019s\nprobably been raped. That\u2019s what the doctor thinks. But she denies it and won\u2019t\nlet them test.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jasmine\nswallowed away the anguish. \u201cI\u2019ll see if she\u2019ll talk to me.\u201d As an at-risk\nwomen\u2019s counselor, she\u2019d faced this situation many times, but it never got any\neasier.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Leaving\nBanner and his partner outside, she walked into the room. Misty lay on the\nhospital bed, shivering, her arms pulled tight against her chest. She stared\nout the window but didn\u2019t appear to see anything. The rails of the bed were up,\nreinforcing the appearance of her helplessness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHi,\nMisty.\u201d She moved around to the other side of the bed. At least they\u2019d given\nthe girl a private room. Jasmine put her hand on Misty\u2019s shoulder, causing her\nto jump. \u201cIt\u2019s okay, it\u2019s me, Jazz.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJazz.\u201d\nMisty focused on Jasmine for the first time. They\u2019d met when Jasmine visited\nthe jail a year ago. Back then, Misty appeared older, more sure of herself.\nToday, without the hardened look in her eyes and gaudy makeup, she seemed much\nyounger than her eighteen years. Tears streamed down her bruised cheeks and\nover her split lip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s\nokay, you\u2019re safe.\u201d Jasmine held her tight, feeling Misty\u2019s body shake in her\narms. \u201cYou\u2019re going to be okay.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Misty\nnodded and pulled away, accepting the tissue Jasmine handed to her. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo\nyou know who hurt you?\u201d Jasmine waited, hoping for the best but fearing the\nworst.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Misty\u2019s\nface paled, and she hesitated before answering. \u201cI don\u2019t know. One minute I was\noutside our building, waiting for a friend, and the next I woke up here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jasmine\nwas an expert at reading people, but this time, she couldn\u2019t tell if Misty was\ngiving her the full story. \u201cIf something comes back to you, let me know. You\u2019ll\nstay here for now. Get some rest and I\u2019ll check in with you in the morning. If\nyou need me, you call.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Misty\nnodded and absently stared out the window again. After dropping her business\ncard on the bedside table, she gave Misty\u2019s stiff form another hug and left the\nroom. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jasmine\nneeded to get back to her apartment, away from there, to gain a little\nperspective. And a lot of sleep. As she headed out of the hospital, she heard\nfootsteps behind her and tensed. Didn\u2019t that guy ever quit?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan\nI walk you home?\u201d Banner caught up to her and shot her a confident grin. He was\nprobably in his thirties, too, but even with his difficult job as a police\nofficer, they were years apart in life experience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\nabout Gerry?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOur\nshift is about over. She\u2019s heading back to the department.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\ndon\u2019t need an escort. I can handle myself. Besides, the creep that did this\nwon\u2019t be hanging around our building.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m\ngoing that way anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jasmine\nshrugged and kept up her original hurried pace heading for Broadstreet House.\nThe image of her cozy flat and fluffy comforter danced before her eyes even as\nthe rain fell on them in sheets. One of these days, she\u2019d have to actually buy\nan umbrella. Wasn\u2019t that the sign of a true Portlander? Do your best not to\nacknowledge the rain. Liquid sunshine. Complete denial.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They\nwalked in silence for a few blocks; the only sounds to meet her ears were their\nshoes hitting the rain-soaked pavement and water droplets bouncing off the\nawnings they dodged under. Businesses hadn\u2019t opened, and it was too wet and\nearly for most people to be out yet. She didn\u2019t mind. At moments like these,\nshe\u2019d pretend the streets were clean and safe. That the homeless didn\u2019t exist,\nand the runaways, loved and protected by their families, were fed and warm in\ntheir beds. Really, though, that didn\u2019t make her any better than most people\nwho chose to look the other way. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Banner\nfinally broke the silence. \u201cI\u2019m sorry I scared you.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cScared\nme?\u201d She glanced at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah.\nWhen you grabbed me in the hospital. I must have startled you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jasmine\ndidn\u2019t reply right away. She had been on her own for the better part of her\nlife, and she didn\u2019t need anyone trying to look out for her. She hadn\u2019t been\nafraid\u2014she was on autopilot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s\ncool.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Banner\nnodded. \u201cI\u2019m glad you left it at home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nfrowned. \u201cLeft what at home?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhatever\nit was you were reaching behind your back for. If not, I think I\u2019d still be at\nthe hospital.\u201d He rubbed at his throat, trying to joke with her, but she was\nsure he didn\u2019t realize how true it was. Instinct forced her to reach for a\nknife she\u2019d given up carrying. She hadn\u2019t had to use it in years, but there was\na certain comfort in having it handy. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSorry.\u201d\nThe skin around her neck and face warmed, and she knew if it had been lighter\nout he would see her splotching. He\u2019d probably assume she was embarrassed.\nHardly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo\napologies necessary. I should know better than to grab someone who\u2019s asleep.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They\nagreed on something.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When\nthey arrived at the complex, Banner opened the gate to the atrium and escorted\nher to the stairs of her flat. The building was an early 1900s Victorian,\ndivided into studio apartments, with a central garden. She and Brandi had made\nsure each unit was clean, with updated carpet and paint. Even though all the\nfurnishings were donated, it was the nicest place Jasmine had ever lived, and\nshe hoped to stay there a long time. After a day like today, it was heaven.\nWhen Misty returned, they\u2019d talk about taking more precautions when out at\nnight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Banner\nmoved to walk Jasmine to her apartment, but she put up a hand to stop him.\n\u201cI\u2019ve got it from here.\u201d She never invited men into her apartment, cop or no\ncop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGet\nsome rest.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThanks.\u201d\nShe climbed the stairs to the second floor, closing the door behind her without\nbothering to say good night. She turned on the nearest lamp, lighting the room\nwith a warm yellow glow. Going to her knees, she looked under the bed, stood\nand checked the closet, pushing past all the shirts and pants. Heading to the\nbathroom, she flicked on the light, eyeing the clear plastic shower curtain and\nempty shower stall. When it was apparent no one was hiding inside, she flipped\nthe locks on her apartment door and finished by sliding the desk chair under\nthe handle. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jasmine\nkicked off her shoes and caught her reflection in the oval mirror near her bed.\nHer green eyes were haggard and rimmed in dark circles. Tonight was close to\nhome. Too close. She pulled her black hair into a ponytail and slipped out of\nher jeans, exchanging her T-shirt for an oversized nightshirt. After brushing\nher teeth and washing her face, she climbed into bed and turned out the lamp.\nThe sodium orange street light filtered through the cracks of the curtains on\nher window, giving the room a hazy look.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her\nmind wandered, remembering the evening\u2019s events. The thud and scream outside\nher window. Finding Misty in a bloodied heap. Her own screams for help. It was\nlike reliving history, all those years ago when she was on the street. She\u2019d\nbeen the bloodied heap, and someone else had screamed for help.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\ncurled into a ball, pressing the pillow against her eyes, and refused to think\nabout it anymore. Tomorrow life would go on. It always did. Even if she didn\u2019t\nwant it to. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her\nthoughts shifted to Misty and what might become of her. Did she know the man\nwho had attacked her? It wouldn\u2019t surprise Jasmine. Victims on the streets\noften knew their attackers. It might have been her shiftless drug-selling ex.\nAnd she\u2019d probably leave the hospital before morning and take off with him.\nUnfortunately, she might not see Misty again. People like her were good at\nhiding their trails and erasing their existence. If you survived more than a\nfew months out there, you got good at it. Or you were done. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

An\nache behind her eyes pulled her attention away. Jasmine pressed her cold\nfingers to her lids and held them there. The pain built ever so slowly, with a\nsneakiness she always associated with cat burglars. She reached inside the desk\nthat served the dual purpose of her nightstand, and pulled out her\nprescription. On the street, living in back alleyways, she had to suffer\nthrough the migraines, lying underneath cardboard boxes, or hiding in dark\ncorners that smelled of urine and garbage. She didn\u2019t miss those days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jasmine\npopped a little white pill into her mouth and let it melt under her tongue.\nGetting up, she closed the blinds behind the curtains. Darkness enveloped her,\neasing the pain. She closed her eyes as she sat back down on the bed and willed\nthe pill to work. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nsour smell of her forgotten dinner dishes wafted from the sink to her nose,\nswirling around her like a tightening noose. Searing pain shot through her\nhead, visible and hot like a blast of lightning. She moved her thoughts away\nand tried to think of something else. Had she locked the door? The chair was\nthere, and she never put the chair under the handle unless she\u2019d locked it. But\nshe\u2019d been distracted and tired. Maybe she\u2019d forgotten this time. Jasmine made\na move to check, and nausea stole her breath away. Shuffling over to the door,\nshe checked the lock, the latch and the dead bolt. All secure. She hated when\nher mind played tricks on her. She took several deep breaths to release the\nstress building in her body.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\nwas a mistake. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nrushed to the bathroom and lost her dinner and most of the pill. Strangely\nenough, throwing up took the pressure away from her head. Exhausted, she crept\nher way to bed and climbed between the cool sheets. Tomorrow she\u2019d go and check\non Misty\u2014if she could find her.<\/p>\n\n\n