Open Wounds

It's August 15, 2008 and I'm standing outside the New York County Courthouse with a piercing stare at the massive sized building. To lawyers and judges, it's an impressive structure. To I, Reese Wilks, it just looked like the devil ready to swallow me whole as I looked up at it. God, my heart was racing, and my palms were sweating like crazy. I felt like I was going to have a anxiety attack. "This is the day," I mumbled. The day I would take the stand in the court room and pray my testimony was enough to put my bastard of an ex-husband behind bars for a long time. I just had to make sure I kept my composure and stayed in control. "For god sakes DO NOT look at him," I told myself. " At least not until it was over."

Michael Thorton was his name. He was a big time lawyer in New York. He defended the bad guys. "Hmmm... imagine that," I thought with a snicker. I met him shortly after college in New York. Clowie, my best friend, and I decided to take a trip there after we graduated. We both always wanted to go just one time. Michael approached me when we were dining at Club twenty-one. It's a well known restaurant that has been around for nearly seventy-five years and is popular among everyone, including tourists. I thought he was the most handsome man I had ever seen. He was tall and had jet black hair. The thing about him I liked the most were his eyes. The most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. He was nearly eight years older than me, but that didn't matter. His charm immediately won me over. I was in shock when he came over to our table and started flirting with me. If he was going to talk to anyone at our table I would of figured it to be Clowie. Clowie is pretty, lots of fun, and just down right hard to resist. Don't get me wrong, I do my fair share of turning heads, but when it comes to conversation I get a big fat F.

Clowie was my good friend all through college. We immediately clicked when we first met. I always found that strange because we are complete opposites. Clowie is average height, dark hair, and brown eyes with a vivacious personality and endless energy. I'm just a little taller with blond hair, blue eyes, and a complete bore. "And they say blonde's have more fun," I thought as I laughed to myself. I've always been secluded and pretty secretive of my feelings. My old high school boyfriend considered me too complicated for him before he broke it off with me. I tend to stress and worry a little too much. When Clowie is around she is like my "relaxer" and that's what I love about her the most. We both graduated from Sam Houston State University. An excellent college in Huntsville, Texas. Huntsville is the most beautiful place. It's full of forests, lakes, and ranch lands with only a population of about thirty-five thousand. I went to the university in Huntsville because that is where I grew up on my grandmothers ranch. I didn't want to go to school far from home.

I lived in Houston before my father was killed in a car accident on his way home from work. I was six years old at the time and devastated. After my father passed things got hard emotionally and financially. My mother sold the house and moved us back to her home town in Huntsville. While living there we would do daily farm chores and spend a lot of time with the horses and made sure they were well taken care of. My grandmother had some of the most well bred, beautiful horses I had ever seen. And she loved every one of them. They weren't just money makers to her. The ranch was peaceful and a healing hand to my mother, as well as to myself. My mother claims I have never been the same since dad died. "It's like a part of your soul was sucked right out of you that horrible day," she would always say. She always tells me I take life too seriously, and I need to lighten up and let my good heart guide me. But when I finally gave in and opened my heart to Michael it nearly killed me. Literally.

"Miss Wilks answer the question," Tom said.

" Miss Wilks did or did not Mr. Thorton inflict these wounds on you that are shown in the photographs taken in the hospital?"

My lawyer, Tom Henson, was standing before me demanding an answer with his beady little eyes. I was frozen and could not get a word to come out of my mouth. I did exactly what I said I wasn't going to do. I looked at Michael and then froze in terror. The horrible memories started to streamline everywhere throughout my head.

"I can't breath," I thought to myself.

"Miss Wilks!" Tom said sternly this time.

"Yes," finally managed to float from my lips.

The pictures before me had put me in a hypnotized state. My stab wounds and the bruises were very hard to look away from. I hadn't seen the pictures in a while and they never ceased to amaze me how captivating they were. I felt like I was going to vomit just remembering the pain.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Tom addressed the jury.

"This!" is what Michael Thorton did to his wife, Reese, after she told him she was leaving him."

Tom held up the pictures to the jurors and walked back and forth between them so they could get a good look. Some faces were pasted with horror, others sympathy, and the rest with questioning eyes. Michael knew a lot of people in the justice system. He was, after all, a lawyer. It didn't help me any that he was very well liked as well. "There are a lot of people in this court room that are against me," I thought, as I glanced around the room. I felt like a mouse backed into a corner with a bunch of vultures eying me for their next meal. Michael had a good lawyer, which was no surprise. God knows he could afford it. He had a hell a lot of power considering his reputation, which intimidated me immensely. He took on the hardest cases and never lost. The firm loved him naturally and the money he brought with him. They didn't give a shit about me. But no matter what they thought, I had a witness and evidence from photographs that couldn't be ignored.

My witness was my next door neighbor. She witnessed Michael in the act when she stormed through our front. Luckily my daughter Sabrina, who was only six at the time, slipped out of the back door to the neighbors house screaming, "Daddy's hurting mommy!" Thank God. Sabrina saved my life. Michael would have made sure I was dead if he had the chance. I'm sure of it. He didn't know Sabrina was home at the time. He would never touch me if he knew Sabrina would see. Sabrina was supposed to stay at a friends for a birthday party that night, but she became ill and I made her stay in bed. If I would of known Michael would push it as far as he did, I would have never told him I was leaving him with my daughter in the house. But then again, if I wouldn't of done it then, I may never have. I had my mind made up and I was determined to tell him as quickly as possible.

"Miss Wilks you may step down and take a seat," the judge said.

"It was over," I thought to myself.

" I did what I came to do."

Now I had to painfully sit back and watch my daughter take the stand and be questioned. She was awfully brave for being so young. I didn't push her into this, nor did anyone else. She wanted to testify. My lawyer had asked her one time if she was willing to tell the court what she saw. I was furious with him of course. I didn't want her to do this. Michael was after all her father. But she is smarter beyond her years and knows right from wrong. She knows what Michael did was "very bad" as she would put it. I don't think she fully understood just exactly what would happen to her father if she testified. The night before our court date I asked Sabrina if she was nervous and told her she didn't have to go through with testifying and that I wouldn't be angry with her. Sabrina said to me, "I'll try my best to make sure daddy never hurts you again mommy." "Thank you angel," I said to her as I tucked her in for bed.

My mother was asleep in bed when I awoke her to my phone call.

She answered the phone in a frantic voice. With it being so late I scared her.

"I know it's late mom, but I need to talk to you."

I had been sobbing and was completely out of my mind.

"Hun, just take a deep breath and talk to me," mother said.

"What's wrong Reese?"

" I was just thinking..........the pressure here in New York is.....I need a break," I stammered."

"The only reason why I moved here is because of Michael, so that's a really good reason to leave." I said.

"I can't breathe here mom."

"What can I do to help?" mom asked.

"Can Sabrina and I come stay with you?" "Just for a little while," I said quickly.

"Of course!" mom said delightfully.

"You know how much I miss you," she said softly. "Now come home."

Mom and I talked a little longer and discussed when I would be there. I shouldn't of been surprised by how excited she was, but I was anyway. I figured she would be angry with me for having almost no contact with her the last two years and making her worry so much. It was bad enough when I had to tell her what happened to me when I was lying in the hospital. She came as soon as she could get to New York. She wanted to kill Michael. At the time I probably would have let her. But let's face it, my mother would be no use to me behind bars. She didn't know about the prior beatings because I swore I would never tell her. She was shocked about what Michael did, just as everyone else. I hid the bruises very well in the past and hardly ever got out of the house. I now tell my mother little by little the living hell I had been in the last six years. She doesn't poke or ask questions and let's me do all the talking when I feel comfortable telling her.

Almost two years after putting Michael where he belonged, I finally decided it was time to leave New York. It never was my favorite place to live anyway. I fell in love, got married, and this is where I ended up. I got pregnant shortly after we married and Michael insisted I didn't have to work and that he had plenty of money for the three of us. It sounded pretty good at the time to be able to stay home with my daughter for a couple of years instead of taking her to a babysitter eight hours a day. I told myself I could always decide when I wanted to pursue my career after Sabrina was born and that there was no rush. We had it made. The beatings started almost two years after Sabrina was born. He was always a very controlling man, but I loved him unconditionally and never dreamed he would start hitting me. I told him it was finally time to put my college time to use. I told him I wanted to start pursuing my dream of becoming a chef and open my own restaurant. I often played out in my mind what it would be like to own a restaurant and be able to successfully get four to five star reviews. I made sure I never fell out of practice with my cooking skills while staying at home. I made the best of the best. Even though half of the time I would be the only one there to eat it. But Michael didn't like that idea, and he made that very clear.

It soon became obvious to me he wanted to control everything about me. How I wore my hair or how I dressed. I was like a love slave to him. I started to feel trapped and there was nothing I could do. I had a little girl, no job, and no career. Michael controlled all the money and stupid me still loved him. I still don't understand why. There were the good days, but the bad eventually out weighed the good. The next three years of our marriage I fell into a black hole and tucked myself away from the world. I became a walking robot and had no emotion. It was just easier that way. Until I looked in the mirror one day and saw this woman staring back at me. "Who was this woman?" I asked myself. This battered woman standing before me with a blank expression, all hopes and dreams lost. "This was not me," I told myself. "What happened to me?" "How could I let things get so horrible and so out of my control?" That day was when I decided it was time to break away and save what part of my soul and dignity I had left. Unfortunately, I had no idea the price I was going to have to pay to gain my freedom for the future.

"Sabrina!" I yelled from downstairs in our apartment.

"You said you were all packed last night!" "Grandma's expecting us we have to go."

"Mom hold your horses!" she yelled back.

"She could be such a smart ass sometimes," I thought as I clenched my jaw.

Almost eight years old and she's yelling back at me.

"You watch your tone young lady," I said sternly.

She came running downstairs holding a painting she had done in school.

"I thought grandma would like this," she said proudly.

"It has horses on it."

"I'm sure she will hun." I said.

"Now giddy up to the car," I said with the most serious expression I could manage.

She gave me a smirk and then did as she was told. We walked out to the car and hopped in. I took one last look at the apartment we lived in for almost two years after Michael's sentence. I then put the car in reverse and off we went. I didn't look back. Not even once. I could see Sabrina out of the corner of my eye cranking her neck as far as it would go to see behind us. I knew she was still upset about leaving. She loved her school and she was going to miss her friends. I hated doing this to her, but in a way I could tell she was excited to live with her grandma. She asked about grandma all the time, and now finally they will be able to have the relationship they should. She's never seen a horse up close and personal before and I couldn't wait for her to. "She's going to love the ranch," I told myself with a smile.

It was dark as I drove down the long stretch of road. Sabrina i was asleep soundly in the passenger seat as I looked over at her. I started thinking to myself how lucky I am to be able to support her comfortably. I was granted plenty of money from the divorce, but the money to me was just a bad reminder how I got it. I didn't care about the money for myself. I cared about it for her. The first thing I did was set aside a savings for her. The rest of the money is just to live on. I don't buy fancy things or give her any special luxuries, even though, I knew I could. The first thing I was going to do is go to work when I got to my home town. I couldn't wait. I'd be damned if I was going to live off Michael's money forever. I won't give him the pleasure and I don't need him or his money. The same thought terrifies me everyday. The thought of him getting out of prison and possibly coming after me. He was sentenced to ten years for attempted murder, but I won't put it past him to get out five to seven. To me that isn't nearly enough and just isn't fair. But since was the justice system fair?

Some murderers get out in fifteen to twenty years on good behavior. So I've heard. You have the right lawyer and have money to afford it, you have a winning chance. Michael never had any prior record of violence and everybody just refused to believe he was capable of murder. He plead not guilty and plead "short term insanity." He knew he would get away with it and so did his lawyer. He is now currently hospitalized and is required to carry out his term. "This is a good man." Michael's lawyer had stated in the courtroom. "when his wife told him she was leaving him, the wife he dearly loved and cared for, something snapped inside." "this man really didn't want to hurt anyone." "Right!" I thought, as Michael's lawyer's words repeated over and over in my head. If only I had prior evidence that he beat on me regularly I probably could have put him away for longer, but I hid it too well. It was my word against his on the issue of past abuse.
"What a load of crap." "Screw them all," I thought angrily. They were all out of our lives now. I just hope Sabrina wouldn't be to scarred from all this.

I ultimately regretted the fact Sabrina would grow up without her father. I, of all people, knew how it was to grow up without a father. I often think it would have been nice for Sabrina to know her grandfather. He was such a loving man and would've done anything to keep my mother happy. I remember when I was a child just watching them in conversation together and thinking how much in love they appeared. Being the young, dreamy girl at the time I thought of my future and wondered when I would meet my prince, like mom had. I prayed to God that when I was old enough he would send me mine and we would be so much in love just like my parents. "What a stupid girl," I think as I look back. God and I haven't necessarily agreed throughout my life. He took my father and stole my fair tale. I find myself being angry with him a lot. I would never tell my mother of course. I can hear her now, "Shame on you Reese. We are still so blessed and have a lot to be thankful for." I don't know how she does it, but my mother always manages to look on the bright side of things. She always tells me if there was no God then she would never be able to look forward to reuniting with my father, and she knew that was impossible because she felt my father was with her each and every day. I guess I have a lot to learn from my mother, I thought to myself. Maybe with God and her back in my life I could just maybe repair my soul and become an excellent idol for my daughter. "God, I prayed to myself, I hope so."