Sherry's Story

The Next Morning

Disclaimer: This story has nothing to do with the Sin City franchise and I am not making money from it.


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The light of the noonday sun seeped into my consciousness, burning through the sandpaper of my eyes. I groaned, and buried myself deeper into the covers. However, the pain and memories of what had happened the night before intruded into my mind. Pain from muscles I didn’t even know I had, screamed in my body and the more awake I became, the more the agony increased.

I didn’t want to wake up, I wanted the complete opposite. I wanted to die. At no other time in my life, not even in the filthy alley when I’d overdosed on cocaine, did I ever want to die more. Hot tears prickled at the corners of my eyes and I let them fall. I rolled over and was glad to see the place where my husband slept was empty and cold. The thought of facing him made my blood freeze in my veins. What was I going to say to him? Could Ben still be angry and take it out on me again? What was I going to do now?

I wanted to stay in bed and never come out of it but an achingly full bladder changed my priorities. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and waited for the room to stop spinning before I dared to test my strength by putting my feet on the floor. Using the bed as a brace, I stood up. My head swum but after a few deeps breaths, I felt stronger. The walk to the bathroom never felt so long. I used the walls to steady me when I felt faint and after what seemed like an eternity, I closed the bathroom door behind me.

I finished what I had to do as quickly as possible; even passing urine caused me pain. I didn’t want to think about what it would feel like to…I shook my head. No sense worrying about that until I had to. A hot bath was what I needed now. I sat on the floor next to the bathtub and turned on the taps, constantly increasing the flow from the hot water tap.

I stripped off the flannel nightgown and saw a large bloodstain on the back of it, where my ass had been. I reached out and touched the stain and to my relief, the blood was dried. That meant that, for now at least, the bleeding had stopped. However, I was faced with another problem: I had to get a clean nightgown, as I sure as hell wasn’t going to wear this one again.

But, first things first. I gasped in pain when I stepped into the hot water. I was tempted to add cold water to my bath but I grit my teeth and sat down quickly. At first, it hurt like hell, but the heat from the water slowly numbed the painful throbbing from my ass and cunt. It took a long time but I scrubbed my skin as hard as my dwindling strength permitted. I scrubbed until the dried blood from my ass and cunt were gone. Even so, I still felt dirty. Soiled.

Waterlogged and near exhaustion, I hauled myself out of the tub. My knees would not support me and I sprawled inelegantly on the floor. The absurdity of my situation came over me and I started to laugh. I laughed so hard that my muscles that had been dulled by the scorching water awoke again. I was back where I started from, but at least I was clean.

I resolved that if I couldn’t walk, I could at least crawl back to the bedroom. It would take twice as long but at least if I fell, I wouldn’t have far to fall. As I slowly progressed to the bedroom door, I heard Ben’s heavy footsteps coming toward me. Before I could protest, a pair of strong arms enveloped me. I was too weak to struggle and allowed myself to be picked up like a child and carried to the bed.

I was handled with such gentleness that I found myself wondering how the man who held me now could be the same man who brutalized me last night.

“Christ, Sher, why didn’t you tell me you needed help? C’mon, let’s get you under the covers again.”

Ben’s tones were gentle and full of concern and my heart flip-flopped with love for the big lug. But whatever softer feelings I was feeling vanished when I felt his lips brush mine.

“Don’t touch me!” I shrieked and jerked away from his touch. My lips were still puffy and red and it hurt to speak but the last thing I needed or wanted right now was to be touched. By anyone.

I curled into a ball and drew the blankets over me. “Could you find something warm for me to wear?” I had no right to ask him and it would serve me right if he refused. Instead, I heard him open one drawer after another and rummage through each of them.

“Here,” Ben said. “All of your stuff is kinda thin and frilly so this will have to do.” It was true. Almost all of my nighties were something a bride would wear; they weren’t practical in any sense of the word. Lacy and transparent, they were designed for the sole purpose of enticing my husband into ripping them off my body in the heat of passion. This, ironically, was exactly what happened last night. I reached out to take the item of clothing that was in his hand. It was one of Ben’s white dress shirts. I sat up, flung the blanket away, and started to put the shirt on.

“Christ,” Ben whispered, his breath shaky and weak. I looked down at myself—there were bruises around my wrists and body not to mention the ones he’d left inside of it. I could only imagine what my neck would look like once the bruises started showing, The stricken look I saw on his face as he viewed the damage he inflicted on my body was something that would stay with me for the rest of my life.

A part of me wanted to say something hurtful; something to rub salt into the open, festering wound of his guilt. I wanted to make him feel pain but I couldn’t. I suddenly remembered all the times my dad told me of women who loved the men who beat them, often within an inch of their lives. As I child, I wondered how a woman could love a man who beat her—I understood it now. When a woman loves a man, we love him no matter what he has done to us. The good part of him, the part that we fell in love with, is still inside even when he turns into a monster on the outside.

No matter what Ben did to me, I still loved him. “Remember when I told you last night what would happen if you raped me again?”

“I remember,” Ben said hoarsely. “You said you were gonna kill yourself.”

“That’s right. Do you know why I said that?”

“No.”

“I said it because I’ve been beaten and raped by men who’d paid for me and felt they had the right to do whatever they wanted to me. That’s part of the job description for a whore. But rape and beating is not part of the job description of a wife. Violence of any kind has no place in a marriage. If you hurt me like that again, my blood will be on your hands. Do you understand?”

Ben’s face was shiny with sweat and I saw him lick his lips to moisten them. It took him a while to get himself under control. “Sherry, are you saying what I think you’re saying? Are you…are you gonna leave me?”

“No, I’m not. I know why you hurt me and I don’t blame you. If you’ll forgive me, then I’ll forgive you. Deal?”

Ben was on his knees by the bed and he buried his face against my breasts. I held him like a mother comforting an injured child. There was something else I wanted to get out of the way but figuring out how to do it right was almost impossible. An older woman would have known how to handle the situation but I was so young; I was dealing with adult emotions and situations were frightening and overwhelming. Sometimes I just wanted to be a kid again, to be just another fifteen year old girl—talking about boys, going to movies, having sleepovers…However, circumstances and my Uncle Tom made me grow up several years too soon.

“How about we start with a clean slate from this day forward? Can we do that, or is our marriage over before it’s even begun?”

Ben nodded. I held his head in my hands and looked into his eyes. He looked awful. The dark circles and bloodshot eyes were the result of no sleep and too much booze. Had he even managed to sleep last night? I doubted it.

“I love you, Sherry. I don’t wanna lose you! It’s just that I saw those pictures and I…I lost control…” His voice broke. “I—I’m sorry.”

‘I know Ben. And I’m sorry for hurting you as well.” We stared into each other’s faces; I saw the anguish in his eyes and he saw the same in mine. It was a long moment before I spoke again. “I want to talk to you about Richard.” I felt Ben’s body stiffen underneath my hands. “He’s been my friend for a while now. And yours too, I think. If it’s okay with you, I was wondering if that could continue? I’ll understand if you don’t want me to see him anymore. I just miss talking to him because…” I was glad I curbed the impulse to say that he was like a father to me—for no father would perform oral sex on a girl he saw as his daughter. “I'm only asking because you’ll be working with him now. You’ll see him every day and I don’t want to spend every hour of the day wondering if you killed each other.”

“For you, kiddo, I’ll do anything. Even facing that rat bast—yeah, for your sake I’ll try to get along with him. It’s gonna be hard, though. Real hard not to want to punch his face in…” Ben ground his teeth angrily and slammed his fist into his palm.

“That means a lot to me, Ben. Especially the part about not punching his face in.” Even though my mouth hurt, I cracked a wry grin.

“But he shouldn’t have done what he did,” Ben snapped. “I trusted him. I told him when I got to Korea to take care of you, not to take advantage…”

“Can I get something to eat?” I blurted. I wasn’t hungry but I could tell that Ben was getting angry and the best way to handle the situation was to defuse his anger before it got out of control. As I expected, he took the bait.

“Sure, sure. I’ll whip you up somethin’ real nice. Anything in particular you want?”

“Pancakes. With lots of syrup and butter. And tea?”

“Comin’ right up, ma’am. It’s sure nice to see you smile again,” my husband said. I sat in his lap and leaned against him, savouring the strength of his arms as they tightened around me. Everything was resolved between us. Now that the worst was over, I felt a sense of weakness pass over my body.

I heard a buzzing in my ears; it was like a thousand angry hornets had taken possession of my head. When I tried to speak, it was as if I was trying to talk underwater. I felt a sudden warm flush from between my legs. Ben said something but the buzzing noise in my head overrode everything. Through a haze, I was barely aware that Ben had laid me down on the bed.

“…you don’t look so good. I’m gonna call the doctor.”

I fought to stay conscious. “No. No doctors.” I knew what would happen—once I got to the hospital, the doctors would take one look at my injuries and slam Ben’s ass in jail.

“Sherry, this ain’t the time to argue. You need to see a doctor. You’re hurt. Oh Christ, you’re bleeding!”

“No doctors! Call Gert. She’s a nurse. Let her see…make her come.”

“Okay. I hope to God she’s off today.” As he had done before, Ben wadded up a towel and put it between my legs. “You’re gonna be okay, you hear me? You have to be all right. What the hell else…Right. Call Gert.”

The last thing I remember was Ben running out of the bedroom.

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When I awoke, I was surprised to find myself in a strange room. The walls were whitewashed, cold, and sterile. The scent of harsh antiseptic filled my nostrils and I knew where I was. A hospital room. Why was I here? Then the memories came flooding back: getting married; preparing for my wedding night…but after that, nothing. What had happened in the time between?

A man in a white doctor’s coat was taking my pulse. “Ah, you’re awake. That’s good.” He made several notations on the clipboard he was holding. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a train wreck,” I muttered.

“After what you went through, I’m not surprised.” He looked grave. “Sherry, your injuries were extensive but there was something else.” I saw the doctor glance over to Ben. “Your father should hear this as well, but it might be upsetting.”

“He’s not my father, he’s my husband.” I answered.

The doctor’s eyes widened in shock and was there also a flash of revulsion on his face? He glanced at the ring on the third finger of my left hand then quickly leafed through my file. I could guess the reason--he was checking to see how old I was.

“You’re married and you’re only fifteen?”

I nodded. “Fifteen is the legal age to get married here. Please, doctor, what were you going to say?”

He sat down on the edge of the bed. “When you came in, you were hemorrhaging.” He took my hand and held it in his. “We did everything we could but we couldn’t save the baby.”

“I was pregnant? How did that happen?” I blurted.

The doctor smiled, his dark-shadowed eyes sparkling in bemusement. “The same way babies have been created from the dawn of time…”

“No, you don’t understand. I can’t have children. It’s impossible. Look through my file. You’ll see I have a lot of damage, you know, on the inside.”

“I know. I've read your medical records and I know the full extent of your injuries.” He glared hard at Ben. “Did he do that to you?”

“No. Senator Roarke and his sons were responsible. Please…just tell me. How far along was I?”

“About six weeks. I am very sorry for your loss.” He got to his feet and stared at Ben down. “I ought to throw your ass in jail for what you did to her, you bastard. But I have the satisfaction of knowing that you’ll have to live with the fact that you were responsible for the death of your unborn child.”

I moaned from the pain of my broken heart as well as his heartlessly cruel words. Ben didn’t mean to kill our baby. Neither of us knew that I was pregnant. Against all the odds and flying in the face of all the evidence to the contrary, I had conceived a child. Now that child was gone and my heart was broken. I placed my hand over my empty womb. There had been a life inside of me and I’d never known. Had the baby been healthy? Was it a boy or a girl? I would never know the answers.

As I wept, one question kept nibbling at my brain, like a mouse gnawing behind a wall. Six weeks into my pregnancy, the doctor had said. I tried to calculate how much time had passed since the last time I slept with Richard but the details were hazy. I knew it was the night I tried cocaine for the first time but how long ago was that?

Who had been the father—Ben? Richard? Someone else? I had had so many customers, it could have been anyone’s baby. Momma and I believed the doctor when he told me that I would never have a child. As a result, no man who’d fucked me after I healed from the Roarke incident used a condom. Not one.

“Doctor, will I be able to have another baby?”

He looked down at the ground before answering. “You beat the odds once, you might do it again.”

“Might?”

“I’m not going to lie to you, Sherry. Because of the deep scarring of your uterus, your chances of conceiving were slim to non-existent. However, you’ve healed wonderfully. But with these new injuries you sustained…I can’t give you a guarantee. I’m sorry.”

“How long do I have to stay here? I’d like to go home.”

“Aren’t you going to press charges?”

I was perplexed. “For what?”

The doctor looked at me as if I had suddenly grown two heads. “Your husband hurt you in ways that a husband should never do to his wife. Don’t you want him to go to jail for what he’s done?”

I shook my head vigorously. “I love my husband. He is a good man.” I ignored the doctor’s scoff of derision.

“So, you don’t want to press charges?”

“No, sir. I don’t want my husband to go to jail. He’s not a criminal.”

“We’ll see about that,” the doctor promised darkly. “You got lucky, mister,” he said, turning to Ben. “Your wife refuses to press charges and I can’t force her. If I were you, I’d be on my hands and knees thanking my lucky stars for having such a devoted and forgiving wife. If it were up to me, the only place she would be able to see you is at Statesville Penitentiary on Visiting Day.” His lip curled into a sneer. He regained his professional bearing but it took quite an effort on his part. “Before the end of my shift, I’ll come back to check on you, all right?” With one last scathing look at Ben, he turned and left the room.

Grief hit me, fast and brutal. “My baby…my poor little baby,” I wept, putting my hand over my navel where the child would have been growing and slumbering if only …if only what? What had happened to rip the dearest part of me from my womb, leaving it empty and barren? The idea came to me that it might be best if I didn’t know. The doctor said Ben had hurt me. How? Despite his obvious strength, Ben had always treated me with gentleness—except of course, when I wanted sex to be a little rougher.


I napped for a while and when I woke up, Ben was gone, and Nurse Gertrude Williams was standing next to my bed. She smiled and I was astonished at the transformation a simple smile made to her face. She was no longer dowdy and prim; instead, she had blossomed into a very lovely woman.

“I told Ben not to call the doctor,” I said reproachfully.

“He didn’t. I did. As soon as I got to your place and examined you, I knew you needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible. I’ve seen too many women die from miscarriages and that’s exactly what would have happened.” Her expression became soft. “How are you feeling?”

“Empty. Empty and alone.”

She took my hand. “I know, child. Believe me, I know. I was about your age when I became pregnant the first time…You may not think so, but there will come a time when you will accept what happened. All you can do now is grieve. And try to heal.”

It was none of my business but I asked anyway. “You were pregnant at my age?” Ben had told me that Gert was a teenager when she joined Ben’s group of runaway—and thrown away—kids. By the look on Nurse William’s face, sudden understanding came over me. “Ben was the father, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.” She handed me a pill. “You need your rest.”

But I wasn’t ready to give up so easily when it came to finding out more about Ben’s early life. “Did he know about the baby?”

“Of course he did. Oh, we loved each other deeply. Once Ben found out about the baby, he was full of hopes and big dreams for us. But I was the more practical one; we were still kids ourselves, barely sixteen. We had no business bringing a child into this world when we had no idea of where we were going to sleep at night or where our next meal was coming from. So, I did the only thing I could—I had an abortion. We had no money to go to a real doctor so I had to go to a neighbourhood woman who performed them in her kitchen. She had no medical training and lots of the girls who went to her ended up barren or dead. I was lucky on both counts.” She sighed and looked sad. I sensed that she hadn't talked to anyone about this before. She needed someone to confide in and I was willing to listen. “Looking back, I realize that it was the right decision at the time but I regret it now. You know, I still find myself wondering if it was a boy or girl. What would she or he have looked like? I will never know.”

I knew exactly how she felt as I had had those same questions about my own lost baby.

“Every year on my due date, I wonder what might have been if I hadn't gotten rid of my baby. He or she would have been twenty-five this year. You’ll probably do the same thing. Son of a bitch!”

I turned my head and saw that Ben had come back into the room. Gert flew at him and the unmistakable sound of a palm colliding hard with a cheek echoed through the room. “How dare you hurt that girl?!”

Ben did not lift a hand to defend himself. He simply waited until the first rush of her rage was spent. “Gert, there’s nothing you can do or say that will make me feel any worse than I already do, all right?”

“Serves you right! What right did you have to lay one finger on her? I ought to have John Hardigan arrest you on the spot.”

“He won’t do it again,” I said. “He promised.”

“He’d goddamn better not,” Nurse Williams muttered. She turned back to me.

“When can I go home?”

Her gaze softened. “Honey, I’m not sure you should be going home. Least of all, with him.”

“But Ben is my husband. Please tell me, Gert. What’s wrong with me? What happened? No one will tell me anything and I have a right to know.”

“Don’t you remember?”

I shook my head and told her everything that I remembered.

Gert sighed. “Sometimes the mind compensates for what we experience in life. If it is too traumatic, our mind blanks it out. Maybe it’s for the best this way if you don’t remember. Here, take this pill. We’ll talk more later. Right now, the best thing for you is to get plenty of rest.”

I was trying very hard to suppress my temper. Why was everyone treating me like a child? If I was old enough to get married, then I was old enough to know the truth about my condition. I knew it had to be serious; everyone from the doctor on down looked at Ben with anger and contempt. And both the doctor and Gert threatened to get the police. What had he done to me? I saw the bruises on my body when I was putting on Ben’s shirt at our apartment. Was it only a matter of him being a little too rough and eager on me on our wedding night or was it something far more sinister?

Not wanting to fight anymore, I lay back in bed and took the pill.