Page 10 of Long Pig
Even after changing her name from Willow Humphreys to Willow Joan Morgan, her nightmares snuck in at night. She wasn’t afraid of much, but returning to prison terrified her, and if she was caught with a firearm, there was a good chance she would go back.
She was careful to only go armed on her property, but the danger she faced from law enforcement always stayed at the back of her mind.
Dale walked to the barn, and Willow went inside to shower. As always, she took her time. It was another thing that prison shaped within her. Showers had been limited to fiveminutes. Dale didn’t blink an eye if she stayed in for close to an hour. That was one of the things she loved about him. He had been a cop, but he also saw what went on in the county jail. He gave her space and understood her idiosyncrasies.
When she finished and opened the bathroom door, the scent of chili filled the house, and she smiled. She took clean dishes from the cupboard and laid them out on the small island in the kitchen so they could fill their bowls. They ate their meals in front of the television. Dale enjoyed watching the nightly news. Willow could take it or leave it, but she enjoyed hearing Dale cuss at the TV. They had a few shows they watched together, but she preferred reading. Her grandmother had everything from romance novels and mysteries, to how to install a solar system and fix common problems with a well.
“The chili needs ten minutes,” Dale said. “I’ll jump in for a quick shower.”
“Take your time,” she told him.
They only had the one bathroom inside the house, and they shared it. Dale had connected his travel trailer to the septic system, so it was usable if they had a traffic jam, but so far that hadn’t happened.
They ate dinner in front of the TV.
“Did you have a nightmare last night?” Dale asked.
He most likely heard her, so she didn’t bother denying it. “Yes. It was about Lance.”
“You saved yourself from him just like you did your father. Men have treated you cruelly, and they don’t deserve your dreams.”
She gave him a half-smile. “Tell that to my nightmares.”
“I know, and they aren’t your fault either. There’s a documentary you might find interesting,” Dale told her.
“Okay,” she said.
Dale found it, and Willow quickly became engrossed. When it concluded, she turned to Dale with raised eyebrows waiting for his lesson.
“That girl saved herself, just as you did with Lance Hogg. Let me ask you this,” Dale said. “Have you heard the term Stockholm syndrome?”
“Isn’t that where the victim falls in love with her abuser or something like that?” she asked.
“Yes, and it’s ridiculous. Survival is not a syndrome. It’s also not a label they give to male captives. Calling it a syndrome is a way to degrade a female victim's natural survival instincts. Survival is a strategic response to a life-threatening situation. When you call it a syndrome, it shifts focus from the abuser's inexcusable violence and places the responsibility for the emotional response on the victim.”
Willow loved when Dale discussed these types of things with her. He carried so much knowledge, and she absorbed every word.
“Syndrome suggests that something is psychologically wrong with the victim for feeling sympathy towards their captor. It doesn’t acknowledge the horrific circumstances the victim is forced to endure. It’s a convenient way to dismiss a victim's account or to question their sanity. People love blaming the victim for some reason. I’ve seen it a thousand times. One of the deputies told me that after he arrested a man in a brutal domestic violence case, that if the bitch had been his wife, he would have beat her too.” Dale rubbed his eyes and shook his head before he continued, “What she was wearing when a woman is sexually assaulted is another instance. If that argument held weight, why are small children raped? I’m talking toddlers.” Dale’s face had become red.
“I think your blood pressure is rising?” Willow said carefully.
“Most likely it is. In ninety percent of crimes against persons cases, women and children are the victims. I saw it too many times. I’m no psychologist, but you need to change your thinking. Just like the young girl in the documentary, you are a survivor. If you continue having those nightmares, you need to kick some serious ass in them.”
She gave a short laugh. “I’ll try my best.”
“I know you don’t like talking about it, but even with what happened to your father, you displayed resilience, and you survived against impossible odds. You don’t remember that day, but that doesn’t mean it happened like they say it did. I’ve never seen an aggressive bone in your body except for when you fought Lance Hogg. Stop doubting yourself. I can’t imagine a situation that you can’t handle.”
No one had ever offered any other explanation for her father’s death. Even at the trial, her attorney didn’t offer an alternative explanation. He wove self-defense into years of abuse and the trauma she suffered. Even if Willow thought of herself as a murderer, Dale was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.
“Thank you.” She wanted to cry because he cared so much. He loved her just as her grandmother had. It was unconditional.
“When that deputy comes tomorrow, don’t let anything he says bother you. I know he’ll rile me up, but I’ll try my best to hold onto my temper. He will most likely prove himself a bigger ass than I already know he is.”
“How did you do it?” Willow asked.
“Do what?”
“Work with all the assholes.”