Kerry stood bent over a worktable, studying plans for the new wing to the Home. Her mind wandered a little, meandering over the past 2 years. It was still somehow unbelievable, that she had had such great good fortune. From practically dying on the ice one morning to bossing Cathilynn’s construction crews had been a hard journey, gathering her childhood knowledge and working through the memories of her father those brought up and then her adult memories and applying it all to the courses necessary to get her General Contractor’s license.

Tons of bookwork, struggling with maths that made her head hurt at first and then became as instinctive as walking. 2 solid years of catching up on basically the entirety of High School and plowing her way through the bureaucratic maze that was the licensing system.

The books and the studying went pretty well, and she honestly found it easy once she’d grasped the maths.

Counseling, on the other hand, wasn’t going very well. She’d talked out the animosity, the hatred, the isolation and the fear, but the emotional walls wouldn’t drop. No matter how hard she tried, after that first night the emotional closeness never quite returned. She couldn’t even bring herself to do more than return a tender, well meaning hug with a stiff cold one.

She silently cursed herself, knowing she had hurt the young girl’s feelings earlier by not returning the hug she had offered so freely. The child needed love so badly, why couldn’t she give just that little bit of herself? She knew she wanted to, but when the time came, she froze over again and became “The Ice Bitch”. Her workers saw a little bit past the façade and realized that she actually cared for their welfare and what they thought and that made a huge difference in how her worksite ran, but they also knew that she would be right up on the scaffold beside them for dangerous tasks, that she wouldn’t ask any of them to do something she wouldn’t go do herself.

The kid had no way to know that though, and that nagged at her. She tried so hard to do right and yet it didn’t seem to matter next to the hurt she knew she’d caused the kid.

Kenny sidled up next to her. “Hey yo, boss lady! The guys are thinking maybe its gettin to be about Miller time, ya know?”

“Kenny, you know damn well I ain’t gonna feed my boys any of that watered down horse piss. I swear that shit loses something on its way through the horse’s kidneys!” she carefully wiped a tear from her eye and turned to face him. “Tell the boys I’m taking em out to dinner tonight at Kobe! All the beer they can drink! Tools down in 30 minutes.” She somehow managed to sound chipper and upbeat and Kenny took the point, striding off with his loose-limbed gait to tell the others.

She couldn’t understand her own feelings. More time on the job for her translated into more sleepless nights babbling in her sleep about construction details and how to handle her crews and it was just getting to be more than she could handle. Charlotte woke her up more than a few times, telling her she’d been arguing with an inspector or something in her sleep, yelling loud enough to wake up half the wing. Cathilynn was worried and she knew it and that just added to her stress. Sometimes, as much as it hurt, the only thing that would tire her enough to go back to sleep was standing a dementedly hopeful watch in the hospice wing.

Somehow, it put it all back into perspective, that her pain meant so little next to those who were dying. It made it a little easier to sleep when she could help them, even if it just meant holding a hand while they cried out in insensate agony. Somehow, that was comforting for her. Pain and death were old friends and she knew them well.

Still, there was something wrong with her. She knew it, but she didn’t know what to do about it. How do you manage to reach out to others? To make friends?

She didn’t know how, didn’t know how to share and so she retreated into textbooks. Others tried to reach out and she was so bound within her own fears that it never came to anything and eventually, even the endlessly loving people at the Home began to relate to her on the same level. Cold, professional, and unapproachable.

Somehow, she knew she had to fix that, but she didn’t have a clue how to begin. She didn’t feel like she could approach Irene or Cathilynn to ask for help. They had entrusted her with a duty, to see that the new wing and additions were done well and she was going to live up to that expectation if it killed her.

To admit that she couldn’t handle it would be, she felt, to let them down. So she held her shame inside herself and it festered. It was a nasty little pustule just beneath the surface, prompting her to crawl into every recess of the building, checking to see if joins were made properly and micromanaging everything.

“All in all”, she thought to herself “I’m the kind of boss I would have hated.”

It didn’t seem to matter how honest she was with herself about her shortcomings, she was driven and that drive took precedence over her own happiness. In truth, if she looked at it, she didn’t feel like she deserved to be happy when others were suffering. Something had to change, but how, and what?

Later that night, they sat around the Hibachi, watching the chef do tricks with his cookware and put on a show. Unknown to her, Kenny had paid the chef to present warm saki with every dish and to make sure her cup was always full. She had never had it so had no idea what she was slamming down. By the time the 3rd course was served, she was buzzed. By the 5th course, she was well on her way to very drunk. By the end of the meal, they literally carried her out of the restaurant. Most of the guys weren’t any better off, so it was James, the quiet giant who very rarely spoke that wound up carrying her into her room and gently tucking her, fully clothed, into her bed.

He didn’t expect the deep, passionate kiss she gave him right before passing out, and although it was very nice, it bewildered him. He knew how he felt about her, no question. He was in love. What he didn’t know was how to even begin to say such a thing to her.

The next few days at work were decidedly odd for both of them. He dreamed of their kiss and so did she, but while she dreamed of it with a sense of longing she was yet unable to feel in her waking self, he was wracked by guilt, not being able to escape the feeling that he had somehow taken advantage of her in her drunken vulnerability.

Kerry awoke after a night of very confusing dreams. She hadn’t really ever wanted to have sex with anyone. Being so horribly abused just gave her a visceral repugnance to the whole idea. But she had spent the night having erotic dreams, dreams of a strong , loving, protective man who made her feel so happy.

She knew that long before her journey began, she had always dreamed that a handsome prince would rescue her from durance most vile, but there had never been true hope. Jake had been a kind of father figure to her and Cathilynn was sort of a distant godmother, benevolent but not the sort of person she would ever presume to approach with her personal issues.

There was a little more closeness with Irene and some of the others, but since that first night she had withdrawn and there wasn’t any sort of real connection. She understood that it wasn’t their fault, that it was her who had pushed away the attempts at friendship and the offers of help. Understanding that didn’t make her any less lonely though. Her therapist had helped her work through most of the issues from her time in prison and honestly, with the tattoos gone, the nightmares had lost their edge. She simply curled up in her bed and soaked her pillow sobbing instead of waking screaming at the top of her lungs.

That was progress of a sort, wasn’t it?

What she couldn’t explain to herself was what she had done when James laid her in the bed. She had grabbed him and kissed him, and no chaste, nonsexual kiss, either! More to the point, she had wanted to do much more than that and only her fear had kept her from going further. She found herself deeply, sexually attracted to someone for the first time in her life and she had no idea what to do!

No, that wasn’t quite right. She knew exactly what to do, but what she didn’t know was how not to feel dirty doing those things, how to not hate herself. How to not feel violated.

Intellectually, it was very simple. What happened in prison was rape and here she was free to choose.

Emotionally? Anything but simple. How do you reconcile insensate terror with desire when both things have happened in similar circumstances? When the very fact that you might desire a man fills you with longing and dread at the same time?

There had been Tremaine in jail and she had felt these things for him. Something happened one day and then he was gone. Alive, from what she heard, but somewhere else. After that she had withdrawn even more and that was when they started calling her “Ice-Bitch”. She still had to act like she enjoyed servicing the men but when she wasn’t doing that, everything about her was frozen. After a while, that became her normal protective veneer.

Jake knew enough and cared enough to get through her emotional shields, and when she almost died, there was a moment when she had seemed to connect with both Irene and Cathilynn, but then her Ice Bitch self came back to the fore and that faded. Forming personal connections just seemed to be beyond her.

Then this thing had happened to her last night and cast her even farther adrift. Who could she talk to? She had alienated everyone who tried to help and didn’t know how to fix it. It was the next Friday before she decided what had to be done.

From Kerry’s Diary.

When it was time to knock off, I called Kenny over. He came sidling up in his normal way that looked liked his joints weren’t quite connected right. “Kenny, I want you to take the boys out to Kobe and show em a good time, and if you wanna go somewhere after that(He knew I meant the strip clubs) the cover and liquor is on me, ok?” I handed him my card. “Oh, and please ask James to come see me.”

With that I turned away and strode back into my own work area. I had managed to act nonchalant in front of Kenny, though I was sure he knew what was going on. The truth was I was terrified. Think of something beyond terrified and that’s what I was. Then James walked into the room and looked into my eyes and suddenly I wasn’t.

I was nervous, unsure of myself, a little scared and feeling intensely vulnerable, but I wasn’t where I had been an instant before. Feelings aside, I had to say my piece.

“James” I began, then sort of faltered, finding myself looking at my feet instead of into his intense green eyes. “I’ve given the entire crew a night out, without me there, just for them. They all deserve it. I’ve taken this night apart from them unlike the way I normally do it because I want to have dinner with you. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, it’s nothing like that. This won’t affect your job status in the slightest way. You are an excellent worker and will always have a job with me, based purely on your skill.”

“With that said, would you like to have dinner with me tonight? We can go wherever you want.” I still couldn’t bring myself to look into his eyes.

I felt him move closer to me and then the pressure of his sausage-sized forefinger lifting my chin until I had to look at him. I could barely breathe.

“I would be honored to escort you anywhere you wish to go.” He leaned down and lightly brushed his lips against mine. I think melting is the right word for what happened to me then. I just felt like jelly had replaced my bones. It was really scary!

The idea of sex had always been something forced for me, an act of submission to dominance, but this was somehow different, even though it was the same act, submitting myself to a man. This was something I wanted to do, so badly that it almost hurt. It was somehow completely different.

When I unconsciously leaned into him on the way out, I felt a sense of security, of wholeness. We wound up at a little Thai restaurant. The Pad Thai was beyond marvelous and he made me laugh. I hadn’t truly laughed in so long I had almost forgotten how, but he reminded me and then he dropped me off at the door to my apartment with a gentle kiss.

I wanted so badly for him to do more and I cried myself to sleep wondering what was wrong with me. I had every intention to seduce this wonderful man and I couldn’t seem to open up enough to just do it.

I woke the next morning, running through my usual routine, a quick toilette, then dressed for breakfast and another day of work. Right at my normal time I opened the door to my apartment, ready to dash out and found a dozen red roses with a note attached.

“You need a break” it said, “So this is your day, whether you want it or not. A car will pick you up at 9. Casual dress.” There was no signature.

Ok, that’s weird. I decided I’d do what the note said so I exchanged my work clothes for a suit. Very simple, grey watered silk with a skirt just above my knees and an eggshell silk blouse with just the lightest detail on the collar and cuffs, A simple gold chain, faux pearl drop earrings and a slim watch did it for jewelry. Ok, so it wasn’t casual, but I hadn’t really managed to develop a casual wardrobe. It was either work or business dress for me and in my off time, usually just sweats.

Still, even with having to add makeup and doing something with my hair, I was left with 15 minutes to burn and I was fidgeting. I didn’t know what was going to happen and that made me really nervous. I decided to meditate because I was way too nervous to be able to speak coherently.

The knock on the door jolted me out of my meditative state, but I followed my personal rule and waited 30 seconds before I opened my eyes and began to move. By the time I was at the door, I could see James with his hand just getting ready to knock again. I had a little moment of panic because his hand looked so huge through the peephole.

I had known it had to be him doing this, but to be confronted with the reality was an entirely different thing. For one thing, I was overwhelmed with this sudden rush of desire and I had no idea how to deal with that and at the same time I was so far beyond terrified I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

Somehow, I managed to open the door and he came rushing through to catch me as I slumped to the floor. My vision had faded to just a tunnel, but the thing in the middle of that tunnel was his face, that giant, plain face that looked like it had seen a thousand winters up north. I could feel him cradling me in his lap and feel him kissing my forehead, rocking me and yelling for help.

None of this really came together for me for a couple days more. From what everybody tells me, I was pretty much curled up in a ball crying my eyes out for 2 days. Nobody but James could even touch me without provoking a violent reaction and even he got it a few times. I watched the recordings and saw the ways I hit him. I felt bad for him when I saw some of the cheap shots I took, but I honestly didn’t remember doing it so it was really weird trying to apologize.

His response was astounding. That deep rumbling bass of his was almost hypnotic to begin with. “Cathilynn told me about you, you know. Several weeks ago, when I asked her if policy prohibited my asking you out. I told her I was willing to find other work if it did. Apparently she decided I needed to know. I haven’t told anyone, but it took me a little bit of time to think about it and realize that what was under the clothes didn’t matter. I fell in love with that person I saw underneath the driven taskmaster and whatever you might have been born as is simply not relevant to me.”

“I’ve seen your strengths and I wouldn’t go up against you in a business arena, you’re a shredder. I’ve also seen what I think is your only weakness and I’m so crass as to want to exploit it. You need love, perhaps more than anyone I’ve ever met. Well, I do too and I think just maybe we can exploit each other’s weakness to our mutual benefit. Would you like to give it a try?”

Now some people might think that sounds a little cold hearted, but it was exactly what I needed to hear. A man knew all about me, still wanted to date me and it wasn’t just for sex(although I had to admit I was really starting to want that), he meant real falling in love kind of dating!

The way he just laid it out there, bald faced, no attempt at even minor misdirection, was perhaps the most alluring thing he could have done at that moment. Still, I was a bit like a deer in headlights, trying to think of what I wanted to say. I certainly didn’t want to seem too forward.

“James, I think we should talk about this later, perhaps at that dinner you promised me before I freaked out and caused all this drama? I’ll tell you you’ve got me right, and I think I could fall in love with you and I’ve known you long enough to know you’re a damn decent guy, but you have to realize I’m about 3 or 4 levels beyond scared. The only thing I’ve ever done that could be called sex was being raped, so please understand that I have lots of fear centered around the whole idea.”

Somehow I’d made the words come out past the choking lump in my throat. I was on the verge of breaking down in tears again and I felt him move up to me. He held me in his arms, gently, as though he was afraid to hug me more tightly. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to have him hold me tightly and make me feel safe, for I realized at that moment that he did make feel safe and protected and secure. Somehow in his arms I felt whole and I clung to him with a ferocity born of desperation. I was clinging desperately to a man, and it had nothing to do with a threat or anything other than the fact that I wanted him to hold me.

Now some of you readers have to understand, I’m not like a lot of T-girls. Lots of my sisters are into women, same as they were before. Me, I’m into men, same as I was before. James was like a dream for me.

I won’t pretend that weren’t a lot of issues that we had to fight through( and trust me, with James and I on the opposite sides of an argument, it could be heard quite a ways away), but 3 months after we finally dedicated the new wing of the Home that love built, James and I were married. My company has grown quite a bit now, but James mostly ramrods the projects. I’m busy taking care of our children.

Okay, they aren’t our biological children, that isn’t possible yet. They are my dead Afghani friend’s cousin’s children, but in our hearts, they are our children. Sometimes they have nightmares from things they have seen in the wars and they come to share our bed and find respite from their demons in a warm cuddle.

I still stand watches in the hospice ward. I’ve given up on the mad hope that the poor souls in there will live and now I just do my best to be there and be supportive until the end. It breaks my heart, and more than once James has had to come and tend me when I break down at a death, but I always manage to hold it together until they have gone. I remember the night Amber and Stacy died. It was almost a week before I could function again, but I managed a brave front for both of them and I held their hands as they took their last breaths.

I don’t know what the future holds, but I know it has to be better than what was before. If nothing else, there is love and that makes all the difference in the world. I think Hamid and Ibrahim would tell you the same, but right now they are with James and that is a time for only men. They still aren’t comfortable with the idea that I will not wear even a headscarf, much less the Hajib or Bhurka.

I might not agree with their faith, but in some way I have to respect it. I can’t simply tell them to believe the way I do(or rather don’t). What I can do is make damn sure they respect women, starting with their adoptive mother. I think I have a pretty hard row to hoe there, but I’m more than willing. I have two wonderful sons and I want them to grow up into decent human beings. That’s a parent’s job, right?

Kerry and the Home That Love Built part 1: repost

Author:

Theide

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Fiction

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

I figured since this particular universe has come around again I'd repost my own meager efforts.

With Permission from Catherine Linda Michel

This story is posted with the permission of Catherine Linda Michel, the originator of this universe.

That said, anything you don't like is entirely my fault.

Kerry darted across the cold rainy street, huddled in on herself to preserve any dregs of warmth she might have left in her. Hiding herself was so routine she did it with half her attention, slipping silently between dismal little pools of light.

Another fit of shivering wracked her bony frame as the wind gusted through a too thin layer of cloth that was soaked anyway. It had been a month since she slept indoors and after that experience at the shelter she wasn’t going anywhere near one of those places. It hadn’t been violent this time, at least, just incredibly humiliating. She’d showed up with other people seeking a place to sleep and watched with hope as a family ahead of her was even given a room. Then she was standing in front of the table as a kindly looking man eyed her up and down for a moment before speaking.

“Go away!” She stared at him, dumbfounded. He stood and pushed his now twisted face into hers. “I said GO AWAY!” He was screaming now. “We god fearing normal people don’t want freaks like you here! Get out of here before somebody’s child sees you, freak!”

He was still screaming but she couldn’t hear him any more. It was everything she could do to stumble away, blinded by scalding tears, not knowing and beyond caring that most of the looks she received were of pity, not the hatred and filth that man had just heaped on her. Toward the bridge again, that familiar path that was so dangerously seductive for her.

It was so simple, just walk onto the bridge instead of under it this time. She’d heard somewhere that hitting water from 150 feet up would be just like hitting concrete, quick and even if not painless, at least very short pain. Then no more pain ever again. But as usual, she lost her nerve and cried herself to sleep huddled as far out of the wind as she could get. At least it was dry.

Back to the same bridge, careful to conceal herself, but this night too physically miserable to even cry. Her misery was increased as she slipped past the newly rebuilt hotel, the irony of the sign causing her to snort in wry derision. “The Home That Love Built” in soft pastel lights, so soothing to think about but forever beyond her reach. She’d heard it was going to be some kind of group home. Well, it was nice to think that the people who got to live there would get better lives, but the way that place had been outfitted, it had to be for people with money. It seemed like a waste.

No point complaining about it though. Really, there wasn’t anything to complain about. That place had in fact provided shelter and sustenance for her for almost a year, right up until the last of the cleanup work was done and they were ready to open. Lots of the work was brutally hard, and after deductions she only had just a little more than was needed to feed herself and old Jake, but it was better than being on the street. Once the plumbing was in the rooms they could even take showers if they were careful not to leave traces of their presence. She’d helped put up the fencing and helped in construction and knew the ways to sneak in and out and hide after the site closed down at night.

The thought of Jake brought a tear to her eye. Nobody deserved to go like that, to just die under a bridge one night. Nobody deserved it, but that’s what his service in Vietnam had given him, a shattered life and a mind that was possibly more broken than his body. She still couldn’t believe she’d done what he told her to do. “Kid,” he’d said, giving her that funny look he got when he was more or less sane, “I’m gonna die pretty soon.”

She shook her head in denial of what she knew full well to be true. “You know I am,” he continued, “and its probably gonna be under this bridge. If the meat wagon has to come here to get me, you won’t have this place anymore. I want you to take my body and put it in the river. Make sure you push it out far enough for the current to take me downstream.”

He started to lose the sane look again and chuckled to himself. “Hell, maybe I’ll reach the ocean. I mean I was brown water Navy, but every sailor wants to be buried at sea.” After that he trailed off into mumbling in some language she didn’t know. Those turned out to be his last words, and the next morning she dragged the corpse of her only friend down to the water’s edge, said a few words over him that she remembered from the bible because she knew he’d been a Christian, and gave his body to the river.

She’d been too hollow to even cry for him right then. It had taken another week of showing up at the temp office and being turned away without work before it caught up with her. She’d eaten through her thin cushion of savings by then and was carefully stretching her last can of beans while reading a newspaper from the day before in the failing light and there it was.

“Body pulled from river identified as decorated veteran!” There was more, but right then the only thing she cared about was that she had failed Jack, that he hadn’t gotten his wish. That broke the emotional floodgates. The beans went uneaten. When Monday came, she couldn’t rouse herself to go to the office in the hope of work and the next day she had lost her spot in the lineup. That had been almost 3 weeks before and the only thing she’d had to eat since then were some dumpster discards from a grocery store. Most of that stuff was so far gone it was safer to just go hungry.

There had been nothing again today but Kerry wasn’t hungry any more. She hadn’t felt hungry for several days now. An idea crossed her mind, alluring, seductive. There was heat to be had, and someplace out of the rain, but she risked getting caught and going to jail. She really, really didn’t want to go to jail again.

Another uncontrollable bout of shivering made her mind up for her and her stealthy progress changed its direction. There it was, just as she remembered, a maintenance hatch. Pull on the handle and twist, just so, and it popped open, granting admission to a crawlspace. She carefully pulled the hatch closed behind her and crouched there for a moment, glad just to be out of the wind and rain. It was certainly warmer than the near freezing outside, but she knew where she could actually be warm instead of just not freezing. Careful crouching progress through the pitch blackness brought a hand in contact with a hot pipe. A turn and a crawl through another, much tighter space and she found herself in a tiny enclosure, a little space where the hot water pipes branched off and in the process, gave up some of their heat. Here it was warm enough to finally stop the little involuntary tremors and she let herself gradually relax. Thought fled along with hypothermia and she dropped off to sleep.

Dreams for her were never very pleasant, but as she’d gone longer without eating they had become terrifying. She knew she was remembering, knew she was dreaming, but she could only ride it out. “You’re my slave, bitch! You got me? You do what I say!” Coker drew back his hand and looked satisfied as she cringed in the corner, aching horribly and feeling what she knew was a mixture of blood and semen run out of her abused backside. The tattoos on her forehead and neck burned fiercely. She’d seen what they said as he thrust into to her and been so immersed in the pain it hadn’t really hit, but it did now.

They were right there, where you couldn’t miss it. “Shemale Whore” it proclaimed from her forehead. “Coker’s Pussy” it added from her neck. 10 months later, she’d been released from jail with small breasts from the pills he’d fed her. She’d wanted the pills, wanted them more than anything, but never to be tortured and raped like that. Most nights she relived the rapes and the terror, locked in the prison of her own mind until somehow, mercifully, she would awake, only gradually becoming aware that she wasn’t there anymore.

Kerry opened her eyes to pitch blackness and it took a few moments for her to realize where she was. Her clothes had mostly dried while she slept and it felt so good to not be cold. Right then, moving was the last thing she wanted to do, but her bladder had other ideas. So it was up and carefully back through the darkness to the hatch again. She noted with relief that it was still just before dawn, so she should be able to get out and do her business unobserved. The blast of cold when she opened the hatch had her shivering already, but she couldn’t do it under here.

The pavement still looked wet but it wasn’t raining at the moment, so she knew she had to hurry if she wanted to stay dry. She’d carefully closed the hatch behind her and made her way to the pavement, rushing with the urgency of her need, but there was one thing she didn’t know. While she slept, the rain had frozen into a sheet of nearly invisible ice. She didn’t know that at the time though. All she knew was that suddenly her feet went out from under her and her world went black.

Cold, so cold. Kerry lay there trying to wrap her senses around the hammering pain from the back of her head. “I gotta get up, I gotta get up” kept running through her mind but when she tried to move her head, it felt like she was stuck somehow. Opening her eyes was a monumental effort, it seemed like they were glued closed. When she did manage it, the pain lanced back through her and she slammed them closed again. Sunlight. Oh crap.

She lay back for a moment, gathered her strength, and tried to roll over. She could feel the movement, could even beat her heels on the ground, but she couldn’t seem to roll or get up. Somehow, she was stuck to the ground. Her arms were free, she could beat her heels on the ground and she discovered she could even arch her back a little. That didn’t make any sense! Had someone superglued her to the pavement?

She put a hand to the back of her head, feeling around with numbed fingers. Oh crap even more. There was the slick cold of ice and more in her hair, down to where it seemed to go under the surface. Suddenly it was clear to her. She’d fallen and gashed her head and while she lay there, the blood had frozen her head to the ice. That explained her lower half too. Before going flying, she’d been rushing to pee, barely holding it. She must have wet herself while she was out and that froze too.

“Ok,” she muttered to herself “That I can deal with. I‘ve got a pocketknife, I just have to cut my hair off and then I should be able to get out of my pants. After that I’m golden!” What she’d just said hit her.

Her hair, that one simple stupid thing she had for comfort and coverage, to hide the horrible marks on her face. If she wanted to survive, she had to cut it off, to expose herself to more of that hate.

“Fuck it, it aint that cold. I’ll just lay here a bit and the sun‘ll melt the ice” She said it to herself with surprising calm and realized as she did that it was true. The sun felt not warm but sunny anyway, and the cold really wasn’t so bad. In fact, it really felt kind of good to lie there. Like good enough to take a nap while the ice melted. Sleep sounded so good right now…

“Irene! Wake up honey and put something warm on!” Sarah was shaking her gently. “There’s somebody out on the back sidewalk!” Irene was definitely not ready to get out of bed, but Sarah sounded really worried. “Come on, get dressed, they’re just lying there kinda flailing around. I need help!”

Irene shook the sleep from her mind and rolled out of bed, or at least tried to. Her middle aged joints protested sharply at the sudden abuse and she wound up staggering out of bed and straightening up with a sound like popcorn popping. “There’s what? Ow! Yeah, ok, Hang on, gimme a minute!” She sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her face. “Right, where are my sweats?”

In under a minute, she had pulled on a sweatsuit and joggers and was following Sarah to the fire door. The blast of cold as the door opened made them both want to go get warmer clothing but they could see the figure lying on the icy pavement and saw as she stopped moving. It was tricky, but they managed to scoot over the ice to see what looked like a young girl.

Irene knelt beside her and tried to slide her arms under to lift. There was some kind of resistance and it took a moment before she realized what it was. “Sally, I need lukewarm water, but not hot, and lots of it, now! This kid is frozen to the pavement!” She could hear Sally scooting off across the ice, yelling for help as soon as she reached the door.
Irene pulled her sweatshirt off and laid it over the girl, suppressing instant shivering as she waited in just her bra for more help. God this kid was skinny. Skinny and filthy. The urine scent reached her nostrils and she suddenly knew how her bottom half was frozen, but what about her head? She slid her finger around to the back of her head and felt more ice in her hair, pulling her hand back to find it covered with red. Mystery solved, but it made the whole thing even more urgent.

Help arrived just then, in the form of several people, two of them carrying a large stockpot from the kitchen. Irene stopped them as they ready to pour the water. She stuck her hand in, let it rest for a moment, then pulled it back out. “This is too warm. Her skin is so cold that if you pour warm water on her like this, it’ll burn her. It needs to be room temperature, and hurry! She’s got a headwound too! Hurry!” Irene didn’t even notice as they scurried back to do her bidding.

A bare moment later, they were back and this time she allowed them to start pouring slowly, starting with her head. It seemed to take forever, but she gradually came free from her frozen prison and Irene lifted her easily, skating as fast as she could for the door, then running for the rinse showers for the pool. Noticing how light the girl felt, Irene wondered if it was just adrenaline, but that was beside the point for right now. She skidded a little turning the corner and almost fell, recovering and gently laying the girl on the floor before turning three of the showers on and directing their spray over her, room temperature water causing blood and filth to stream from her.

With hands helping, they soon had her clothes off and all was revealed. A mop of tangled dark hair fell over her face, and as the girl woke, she tried to resist attempts to brush it back. It was a moment before she realized that her clothes were missing and water was pouring over her. She began to struggle, disoriented and afraid, whimpering.

Irene could just barely hear her words, but they were chilling. “Please, just let me go. I’ll do anything you want, just let me die when you’re done…” The words faded to a hopeless sobbing and Irene’s heart broke. She cradled the girl in her arms and tried to hug her while adjusting the water to a slightly hotter stream. The others saw what she was doing and adjusted the other shower heads too. They sat there like that, huddled on the shower floor, gradually warming the water until the girl stopped shivering so violently.

Sarah was able to examine the back of her head and see that it had stopped bleeding. It didn’t even look like there had been much of a cut, but she knew head wounds always bleed like crazy. The girl was conscious, so she was worried more about a concussion. That wasn’t what had her truly concerned though. This girl looked like a concentration camp survivor, skin stretched tightly over sharp bones. That and the tattoos on her forehead and neck spoke of something awful.

Right. First things first, get the girl cleaned up now that she was warm. She had stopped sobbing and just let them move her around, gently cleaning the grime away, shampooing her hair twice, then conditioner. Great hanks of tangled and matted hair came free and floated to the drain but when they were finally done and ready to dry her off it seemed like there was twice as much as before.

With help, she was able to stand and after a quick dry-off, she was bundled into a blanket and half led, half carried into the clinic. Aside from starvation, she was healthy, not more than a mild concussion, and the wound wasn’t large or deep enough to require stitches. Back out of the clinic, down another hallway and into a cozy looking apartment, where she was installed in a kitchen chair with a cushion under her.

Kerry was confused. Was she dreaming? It just didn’t seem real. One moment she’d been thinking about cutting her hair off to get free of the ice, next thing she knew she was on a tile floor with a woman holding her while what felt like scalding hot water poured over her and still she couldn’t stop shivering. Then she noticed she was naked and felt a sick fear. They’d seen her secret! But she couldn’t get free and nobody was doing anything mean to her, so she was able to get her emotions together some and pay attention. Every inch of her had been gently scrubbed and she started to feel somehow safe and oh! That blanket was so soft and warm and felt like heaven and smelled even better!

She pondered through the quick examination and couldn’t make sense of things as they led her into what she recognized as one of the one bedroom apartments she’d helped build. That clinched it. This had to be a dream. She must still be outside, stuck to the ice. She was warm and remembered that the final stages of hypothermia were supposed to feel like that. This was so real, though!

Into the small kitchen and she was gently lowered to a chair. She winced as the sharp bones in her rear met the hard wood and felt herself lifted, then lowered again onto something much softer. The woman who’d been holding her in the shower was saying something.

“When did you last eat, hon?”

She had to think about that one. “I had some stuff out of the dumpster a couple of weeks ago, but it made me sick. So maybe a couple or 3 weeks? Don’t worry about me, I’m not hungry anymore.” She sat watching, enjoying the warmth and the softness while the woman moved efficiently around the stove. It seemed like only an instant before a hot cup was being pressed into her hands and she breathed in the steam.

Whatever it was it smelled like heaven. Her mouth watered so hard she almost drooled. It was so hot, though. A careful sip, slurping to cool it and the flavor bolted straight through to her brain. Beef bullion, the kind that comes in those little cubes! Her stomach lurched, but not like she was sick. Oh gods she was suddenly so hungry! The salty taste filled her senses as she took tiny sips, almost scalding her tongue in her haste.

Soon she was staring at the bottom of the empty cup wanting more, but she didn’t want to ask. That would be greedy. The woman noticed her longing looks and swept the cup out of her hands, filling it from a pot on the stove and carefully wrapping her fingers around it again. This cup lasted a little longer and when she finished, she felt, well, not full, but not so empty either.

“Are you going to say anything, girl?” She looked up into a warm pair of brown eyes. The woman was sitting across the table, those kind looking eyes penetrating her feeling of repletion. She suddenly got very nervous.

“Thank you, maam.” She thought for a moment, realized she was still naked under the blanket. “Um, if I can get my clothes I’ll be going. I’m sorry to be a bother to you.” She started to rise from the chair.

“Sit back down, child!” Kerry sat. “Now you listen to me. You aren’t going anywhere until I have a chance to get some food into you and you tell me how all this happened. Why the tattoos? I’ve seen it all, child, and what’s between your legs doesn’t make you any less of a girl to me. A starved girl who needs help. So tell me, first of all, what’s your name? I’m Irene.”

“I’m Kerry. I didn’t want the tattoos, they were forced on me in jail by the guy who owned me.” Then the dam broke and the words came pouring out of her interrupted only by a steady rain of white hot tears. She told of growing up knowing she was a girl and being forced by her father to act like a boy. She told about what she had done to herself when she was 15 and how her father had hit her and then made her mother clean her now empty scrotum and bandage it. How she was lucky she didn’t get infected because he’d never take her to town to see a doctor.

Then the night when her father got drunk and beat her until he passed out and she ran away, walking until she got a ride, winding up in the city and learning to steal to survive. How she got caught shoplifting food just after her 18th birthday and going to jail, and what happened to her there. How she got out and swore she’d never do anything to get sent back there. She was about to tell about the past year and brought herself up short, remembering where she was.

Instead of telling everything, she dissembled, saying she’d had work until recently but the job had ended and she’d lost her place to stay, but she did tell about Jake. By the time she was done, Irene was crying with her and holding her.

“You poor child. I thought I’d had it bad, but I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through. Well, all that’s ended now. Somehow, you wound up in exactly the right place.” Kerry looked at her doubtfully.

“Isn’t this some kind of group home for like rehab or something?” This didn’t make sense. “Look, I don’t want to be a burden on anybody or get anybody in trouble or anything. I’m sorry I fell on your sidewalk and I won’t sue or anything. All I need is my clothes back and I’ll get out of your hair.”

Irene could tell she wasn’t quite getting through to the girl. “You sit right there, I’ll be right back, OK?”

Kerry wondered if she was going to be arrested now. Well, if that was the deal, she couldn’t do anything about it, couldn’t even run with no clothes. She resigned herself to experiencing jail again, and wondered how she could manage to kill herself. There was no way she could live through that again.

Her heart sank as Irene returned with a familiar looking woman in tow. There was no mistaking the lady who owned this place. She was ready to plead for mercy when what the woman was saying penetrated her mind.

“Hi Kerry. I’m Cathilynn. Now before you say anything, I want you to know you have a home here. No one is going to hurt you, nothing bad will happen to you here, ok?”

Kerry blinked at her, certain that she’d heard wrong, then remembered to look down and hide behind her hair. She was almost shaking with the fear that the woman would recognize her from the renovation project. A hand grasped her chin and made her look up into Cathilynn’s face. She watched the look of recognition in her eyes and jerked her head back down. She waited for the accusations and was amazed to find warm, soft arms folding around her in a tight hug.

“You’re the one who was living here during the project, aren’t you? We knew somebody was, we even got security footage in the last couple of weeks, but we could never manage to catch you and we never really tried. If we had caught you I would have offered you a job. I saw the work you did, and my foreman kept talking about this girl temp he had who worked harder than any of the men, but it seemed like whenever I visited the site I never saw you.”

“Child, you didn’t have to hide from me. Irene here tells me you didn’t even know what this place is. About 2 years ago, I won the lottery and I decided I was going to set up a place for people like you and me and Irene.” Kerry looked up at her, unable to believe her ears. “Yes, I’m transgendered like you. So are most of the people here. I wish I’d known about you, I feel so horrible about doing all this and overlooking someone right under my nose who needed help so badly!”

“Now let’s get a place sorted out for you to sleep tonight, and get some more food into you. Nothing solid yet, just some soup. If we gave you solid food right now, it would do more harm than good. Then we can think about getting those tattoos lasered off your face and plan for your future, ok?”

Kerry started crying again. This just wasn’t possible.

When she awoke the next morning in a warm bed, the smell of coffee wafting through the cracked open door, she knew it was true. And she knew she’d do everything she could for Cathilynn and the others and this place, because after all, she’d helped build The Home That Love Built.

Kerry and the Home That Love Built part 2: repost

Author:

Theide

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Fiction

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Posted by author(s)