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PENNY

“Hands must be on the table at all times, behind the glass. All phone conversations are monitored by the central operator. You have ten minutes to talk with the inmate before the line will automatically get disconnected. So use your time wisely.”

I follow the guard into the cold, sterile room, where a row of glass is partitioned with metal stools and individual wall phones on both sides. I tug my cardigan tighter around me, as I’m led into the booth that is designated just for me. For it being summer, you’d never know it by the temperature-controlled atmosphere in this place.

“Thank you,” I mumble, taking a seat.

I can’t help but wonder if this meeting will benefit me or if I’m conning myself into participating in a form of self-torture. Now I’m questioning if I’m essentially making a huge mistake by even requesting the visit.

It surely sounded better when my therapist told me to “face my fears” in one of the group sessions months ago. And this is definitely a fear. I just might have taken the suggestion too literally and out of context.

For the past year, I’ve been living in a state of limbo, not knowing how to knit my old life to the hope I have for my new life. In a way, I feel like a new person. The Penny before the incident is nothing like the Penny seated here now.

I’m different.

And it’s not just because I chose to dye my hair and update my wardrobe color scheme from black and blah.

My parents treat me like I’m different.

My brothers treat me like I’m different.

And I have this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’ll always be seen that way to them—as someone fragile who constantly needs rescuing.

So much has changed that the image of the girl being reflected back to me in the dingy, smudged glass is not the same naive person who sees people at face value anymore. I just hope that life hasn’t jaded me so much that I’m unable to find my own slice of happiness.

I scoot my stool closer to the table, setting my hands on top as I wait.

Guilt rushes over me as I think of how I used an excuse to go shopping alone as a way to get away from my current residence in Hillsboro. The walls have been closing in on me since my release a few weeks ago.

My parents mean well, but I think they are walking on eggshells and in a constant state of worry that I’ll have a mental breakdown again. I mean, the thought has crossed my mind, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility. Even I get scared of the unknown.

I learned just how complex the brain is when my thoughts became a taunting ghost to the incident that shattered my life.

No one plans on a break, and when one occurs, it’s hard to see your way out of it. I can’t go back to that. I can’t be a burden anymore.

I’m challenging myself today by even stepping foot inside this prison. But I owe this to myself.

Despite extensive therapy, I still am lacking the closure my heart desires. Sometimes facing your demons is a way to conquer your fears, and that is something no one—not even my brothers—understands.

Sure, my family is beyond amazing, but none of them would approve of today’s visit. Everyone sees me as a delicate flower that is waiting to lose its petals at the first sign of rain.

But life has storms.

Some are bigger than others. Some cause the power to go out. But with the rain, regrowth can happen, and sometimes even rainbows can form out of the unexpected.

If I am going to move forward, I need to face the one roadblock that seems to hover in the back of my mind, haunting me with the illusion that I’ll never be whole again.

A vision of orange hits my periphery, causing me to look up, as Mark Tanner is escorted in chains to the stool on the opposite side of the glass.

My eyes look at him and then away, almost as if his evilness is blinding. Swollen eyes, a cut lip, and stitches on his forehead all appear to be fresh. His once muscular frame looks smaller, weaker. Prison hasn’t done him well, and the petty side to me is rejoicing that he finally got what was coming to him—albeit not because I had anything to do with it.

Mark’s expression comes to life and a cocky smirk plays on his lips, as he takes in my face and what he can see of my body, one slow inch at a time. His sinister smile lets me know that he approves of my new appearance.

I feel dirty as his eyes coast over me, like I’m the most interesting person in the world to him right now. He’s probably trying to figure out why I’m here. I mean, I’m starting to wonder as well.

When I first decided to come here on an impulse, it seemed logical at the time. Now, after seeing Mark’s amusement, I doubt I’ll leave feeling anything other than empty.

Mark kicks the stool backward with his foot, steps in front, and lowers himself onto it. His chained hands hit the table so hard that it vibrates the glass. Biting his bottom lip, his eyebrows rise to produce a flirtatious look.

Why am I doing this?

Why am I facing the devil who caused my once seemingly perfect life to shatter at the foundation? Why am I trying to communicate with the madman who almost killed both of my brothers and my now sister-in-law?

Maybe I’m a masochist. Or maybe I’m exactly what I’ve tried to tell myself I wasn’t for all these months…

Crazy.

My nose flares as I bite my inner cheeks to keep from crying. I can’t shed a tear in front of this man. He would eat them up like liquid candy, and probably get off to the image of my mascara-stained face later when he’s alone in his cell.

Pulling my shoulders back and straightening my posture, I remove the black phone from the receiver, signaling to Mark to do the same.

It’s his labored breathing I hear first.

“Well, if it isn’t little Penny Hoffman.” He trails his eyes over my lips, my neck, and down to my chest—settling there for way too long. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

It’s Mark’s evilness that takes root, growing wildly with unabandoned need and wrapping its hold over every aspect of my life.

I’m tainted—damaged—by his clutch on me. And today is the day I let go of the choke hold he has on my life.

“I’m here to show you that I’m all better. That you didn’t break me.”

“Well, isn’t that cute.”

My eyes twitch, as I take in a deep, steady breath. “I’m stronger than you think.” And I am. I have gotten through so much.

I watch as Mark places the phone down onto the table and then claps his hands together.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

His chest rumbles with a boisterous laugh that is so dark that I can hear the echoing hum through the phone. He picks it back up and winks at me, making me cringe from his ability to affect me like he does.

“How can I believe your words when you don’t even believe them yourself?”

I bite my bottom lip that can’t stop quivering. But I am strong. I’ve managed to complete intensive therapy. And I came here. “You can’t hurt me anymore,” I blurt out.

“But I can. And I will. I live in your heart, Penny. And I’ll come out to play anytime your insecurities seep through. Just know I’ll be waiting on the sidelines. Stupid girl. ”

“Shut up.” I rock in my seat, silently wishing it had a back support.

My fingers grip the phone so tightly, I fear I might snap the plastic in half. I didn’t come here to get harassed by him. I came here to show Mark that I’m standing on my own two feet, while he’ll be rotting away in prison until he eventually dies. He can no longer hurt me.

“You know what bad girls like you love?” Before I get a chance to even respond to his ridiculous question, he answers for me. “Sin.”

“Shut up.”

His laugh is manic, like he somehow believes he has the upper hand, despite being in a maximum security prison with no chance of ever receiving parole if he is found guilty. At least that’s what everyone—my therapists, my parents, my brothers, our lawyers—tell me.

That’s what they tell me.

Tell me…

Yet, here I sit, trembling in fear of what this man represents.

He is evil.

He is poison.

He is hatred.

He is permanent…a constant source of anxiety in a life full of variables. Yet he still finds a way to persevere through all of my happier moments, tainting all the goodness that I strive to achieve.

Mark doesn’t need bars to keep himself from me—he already has me. He finds me in my nightmares. He finds me in my reflection in the mirror. And he finds me when I’m trying to start up a relationship that goes beyond the boundaries of friendship.

He finds me.

Every look at me is a power play.

I shouldn’t have come here. I should have realized that nothing productive could come from facing the demon who has wreaked havoc in my head.

Mark may not have raped my body, but he raped my mind. He took more from me that day I was drugged than just my freedom and my memory.

He stole my trust in men.

And he stole my trust in myself.

“I may be in here while I await trial, Penny,” Mark chants in a singsong voice, “but there are other boogeymen out there in the big, bad world. And they make me look civilized and tame in my sexual preferences. So sleep with one eye open or”—he makes his hands go poof —“you may get taken in the darkness as a favor owed to me. And I always collect my debts.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You hate yourself.”

“You can’t hurt me anymore,” I snarl.

Mark shrugs. “I’m legally innocent until proven guilty. Wouldn’t it be absolutely mind-blowing if I was found not guilty?”

“You’re going to rot in here.”

“I can’t wait to see you break down in court. How fun to be reunited again. My lawyers are going to rip you to shreds, and I can’t wait for my heyday.”

“You’re delusional.”

Mark’s bottom lip gets sucked into his mouth and pops out. “You think I don’t have puppets on the outside—just waiting for my silent command? Because, Penny, there’s not a Hoffman on this planet that can keep me from gaining back everything I’ve lost. So be fucking careful. This is just intermission. The main event hasn’t even started yet.”

Without another word, I slam the phone down and stand up. My legs struggle to hold my weight, but I keep my head up as I walk out of the room. Every step seems unsteady, like I’m going to crumble into a million tiny pieces if I stay still.

So I keep walking.

One foot in front of the other…

And I never look back.

A worker checks me out on the computer, retrieves my personal belongings that I brought, and then I’m released.

When the fresh air hits my face, I’m made aware that I am crying. And like a dam breaking, I let the flood cleanse me of my bad choice in coming here.

Mark is messing with me. He’s trying to get under my skin, and I am letting him have that level of control.

I made it easy for him by coming here.

But I am not that broken girl anymore.

And I can prove it.

When I rein in my senses, I forfeit my will to the two men in my life who are always there for me when I am about to crash and burn.

I call my brothers.

“I’m sorry,” I cry, as Nic and Graham envelop me in their arms. They got here in record time—probably breaking speed limit laws at every bend. “I know I’m stupid. I know I shouldn’t have come. I know, please, I know. I just thought…”

What did I think?

Apparently I thought that the man who almost destroyed my entire family would somehow see me and then magically find remorse?

I obviously came here looking for something…

But what?

A man as vile as Mark Tanner doesn’t have an apologetic bone in his entire body—probably because he doesn’t think he did anything wrong. To him, everything revolved around a hierarchy of power and money. I was simply a way to help him make more. Except his plan never went to fruition, but I still suffered a mental breakdown as a result.

The day that I met Mark Tanner, when I thought he could help me further my modeling aspirations, was the day that the fuse was lit. It was only a matter of time before he hurt me. He just never counted on my overprotective brothers retaliating and getting him locked up for life.

“Don’t cry. Everything will be alright,” Graham soothes.

Nic squeezes me tighter. “Yeah, don’t cry, Pen.”

“I hate him.”

Graham rubs circles on my back. “We know. We hate him too.”

My sniffles get less and less frequent, and then I’m no longer a sobbing mess.

When my brothers release me from their embrace, a silent message is passed between them with just a look.

But that’s what my older brothers do—they fix things. And based on the way they are looking at me now, I know they are trying to think of how to make my life easier.

I’m not looking for easier, though. I just want to find my purpose.

“Mark is going to get out and get me,” I whimper. My eyes dart back to the entrance to the prison. “I can feel his invisible pull from here.”

“No. No, he’s not, Penny,” Nic promises. He takes my hand and starts to pull me toward the parking lot, but my feet feel like they are trudging through wet cement.

“He said he has puppets out here in the wild who won’t hesitate to follow his orders.”

Graham glances at Nic and then back at me. “We won’t let him hurt our family again, Penny.”

My head shakes back and forth, as I think about every worst-case scenario. “I don’t want to go to trial. I don’t want to face Mark in court. I won’t survive all the questions and the interrogation and the drive from his legal team to discredit me. It’ll be humiliating and revictimizing to me all over again. Probably Angie too. She’ll probably have to testify. You know? She was hurt by him—by all of them. Not to mention that the whole time, Mark will be staring at us and silently taunting us from his side of the courtroom.”

Graham places an arm back around me, pulling me into his unyielding body. “You and Angie won’t be testifying.”

His words are final, and if he really could control everything in this world, I would believe him. But not everything is in his control.

I look up at my big brother. “Why are you so confident we won’t need to? How will the prosecution get a solid conviction without our testimonies?”

“Trust us, Penny.” Pivoting, he looks me directly in the eyes. “That monster is staying exactly where he belongs and won’t step foot on free land again. Let Nic and I take care of this, and don’t worry yourself sick over it.”

“But he might still have influence over people out here”—my hand sweeps out—“roaming around. What if?—”

“Trust us, Penny,” Nic echoes Graham’s previously spoken words. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”

With a slight nod, I continue walking. Their vagueness is making me cranky. They are always trying to shield me from any pain, and today I gave them all the reason to continue on that pattern.

“How did you get here so fast?” My question comes out as a whisper, but I really don’t need an answer. My brothers have their ways of keeping tabs on everyone they care about. So nothing should shock me. “You were on your way already before I called, weren’t you?”

Nic opens the back door to the SUV, as I settle into my seat. When my brothers get into the front, I relax my shoulders as Graham pulls out of the parking spot and onto the main road.

Nic sighs, obviously not wanting to confirm what I’ve already figured out on my own. “Let’s get you back to Mom and Dad’s.”

“Please don’t tell them.”

“They are worried about you, Penny,” Graham says.

“So you aren’t mad?”

“We are upset that you came here alone,” my older brother says, speaking for himself and Nic. “You didn’t need to come here to prove anything to anybody, Pen.”

“I should have never visited Mark,” I admit. “The only thing it served me is a fresh, vivid reminder of what evil looks like in human form. Worst part is, Mark doesn’t feel bad about a damn thing.”

Nic lets out a huff. “That’s not surprising.” He exchanges a look with Graham, and I know some message was exchanged nonverbally. I swear they can partake in an entire conversation and never actually say a thing.

Glancing at me in the rearview mirror, Graham gives me a stern look. “Don’t pollute your mind with scum. You’ve come a long way with your progress. You don’t need to be having setbacks.”

I know this already.

I just thought coming to the prison was a move in the right direction for my personal growth.

I was wrong.

“Where did you find Penny?” Dad asks my brothers, when I am supposed to be upstairs showering instead of eavesdropping.

Graham’s growl can be heard a room away. “She was at the prison.”

I lean forward, trying to catch a glimpse of Dad’s reaction. There are two things I hate doing to my parents—being a disappointment and being a burden. I have managed to do both within an hour’s time frame.

Dad clears his throat. Even from this distance, I can sense his unease, where he is usually so calm and collected. “I know she’s having a hard time. There’s still a lot of healing left to do.”

“And she will,” Nic chimes in. “But she needs to stay out of trouble and give her body and mind time to assimilate back into how things used to be.”

While not normally the optimist, he sure seems to have a confidence when it comes to me. He believes in me when I don’t always believe in myself.

“I’ll keep encouraging her to touch base with her local therapist,” Graham says.

“Yeah,” Dad agrees. “That was the compromise for her getting out of the facility. Those sessions need to start sooner rather than later.”

Graham coughs. “I’m sorry to say I don’t think things will ever be the same.”

“Maybe the point in certain times of your life is to not stay the same,” Dad says thoughtfully. “Penny now has some life experience she hasn’t had before. If she can focus on the positives, then I think she’ll be okay.”

I lean my back against the wall, allowing my eyes to close. I feel claustrophobic in this house, like I can’t breathe right. Too many memories were made here with the Penny before the incident, and it is hard to reconcile with the girl I once was when I’m so vastly different inside now.

“Yeah…” Graham says softly.

“I just hope she learns to ask us for help if she feels like she is sinking,” Dad remarks.

Nic clears his throat. “There was no good reason to torture herself like she did today. She can be brave. She just doesn’t need to be brave in the presence of that predator.”

“Well, thank you for bringing her back,” Dad says with a choke, the telltale sign that he is about to cry. “I know you both have a lot on your plates with being freshly married”—he’s referring to Graham and Angie—“and a baby on the way”—and now Nic and Claire.

Guilt stabs at my heart. Dad is right. They do have more important things to worry about than my pathetic impulsive urges that seem to get me into trouble. I could have easily called a taxi and didn’t need a rescue.

How am I ever going to stand on my own two feet when my brothers are about to slay every dragon that comes my way?