Overwhelmed

4247 Maplewood Dr.

Thursday, February 1, 2001

3:00 AM 

“Oh God, Jenna—no.”  Lee whispered.  

Jenna’s broken and battered body lay on the muddy ground, resembling a discarded doll. Her dark eyes were open and lifeless—they seemed to stare up at him accusingly.   Feeling a sob rise up in his throat, Lee knew that they had gotten to her too late.

“Munchkin,” he said to Jenna, even though he knew she couldn’t hear him anymore. “Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” 

“Stand back, Mr. Stetson,” a man’s voice ordered. “Let us handle this.” 

Lee did as he was told—watching numbly as the paramedics carefully lifted Jenna’s body, placing her remains in a bag—

Lee sat up, his heart pounding wildly. For a minute he looked around, disoriented, the nightmare images still fresh in his mind. Slowly Lee’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and he realized that he was in his own bedroom.  But that dream—that he would even be thinking such a thing was —

‘Maybe Jenna isn’t the only one who should be talking to Pfaff,’ Lee thought, and then immediately tried to push that idea to the back of his mind.

The clock on the beside table told Lee that it was three o’clock in the morning.  He looked over at Amanda, still sound asleep on her side of the bed with the blankets wrapped around her. Lee briefly considered waking her up so that he could talk to her—just hearing his wife’s voice would make him feel better—but with all that had been going on Amanda really needed her rest. Lee needed his rest too, but after that dream he didn’t think he’d be getting any more tonight.  Moving slowly and carefully Lee rose from the bed, putting on his robe and sliding his feet into his slippers. 

He’d just check on Jenna first, Lee decided, heading towards his daughter’s bedroom. After that he’d go downstairs, maybe to read something or look at whatever was on TV at this time of night. He pushed open the door to Jenna’s room, fully expecting to see his daughter curled up underneath her blankets. But the room was completely empty.

Empty? Lee clutched the doorjamb with one hand as he scanned the bedroom, finding it hard to breathe for a moment. This couldn’t be happening, he thought. Not all over again. He had just about made up his mind to call the police when his brain registered a noise-the faint sounds of the television coming from downstairs.  That must be where Jenna was.  Lee felt a wave of relief rush over him as he practically ran down the staircase and into the family room. 

Jenna was sitting on the sofa, wrapped up in the afghan, her head resting on the large sofa pillow. She stared at the cartoon on the TV screen, tears running soundlessly down her face.  

“Jenna?” Lee spoke quietly, not wanting to frighten her again—not after what had happened earlier.  Jenna looked up at him. 

“Hey Dad,” she said, hurriedly wiping at her face. “I hope I wasn’t making too much noise, but I—I just woke up again and I couldn’t get back to sleep.” 

“You didn’t wake me,” Lee sat on the sofa beside her. “I couldn’t sleep either.”  Jenna said nothing in reply, her eyes turning back towards the screen. 

“So—anything you want to talk about?”  Lee asked, attempting to break the awkward silence.

A slight shake of the head. “No, I’m fine, really.” 

It was quite obvious that she wasn’t fine, but Lee didn’t want to press the subject—he figured that Jenna would talk when she was ready. “You want some hot chocolate?”  He asked her. “I know that I could really use some.”

“With marshmallows?” Jenna asked.

“Sure,” Lee said. “I know where they’re hidden. Just don’t tell your mother I know that—okay? It’ll be our secret.”

A faint smile crossed Jenna’s lips. “Okay,” she said.

Lee patted Jenna’s shoulder and stood up, going into the kitchen.  Grabbing some milk from the fridge, he poured it into the saucepan and set it on the burner, turning the dial to medium heat. A photograph caught his attention—one that Amanda had fastened to the refrigerator with little magnets.  It was Jenna and her friends at her eleventh birthday party—wearing silly hats and making goofy faces for the camera. Lee took the photo off the fridge and stared at it fixedly—wishing that he could somehow take away everything that had happened to his daughter and turn Jenna back into the kid in the photo—the carefree and happy kid she still would be if it hadn’t been for Gary Johnston.

‘I’m a trained agent,’ Lee thought to himself.  ‘I should’ve known my child was being targeted—I should’ve been able to stop this from happening to her.’ 

But he hadn’t been able to stop it. And now—with a sigh, Lee placed the photo back on the fridge and replaced the magnets.   

The milk had begun to simmer; Lee turned off the burner and took the milk off the stove, pouring it into two mugs and stirring in the hot chocolate. The marshmallows were next—Amanda was now hiding those inside a tin in the top shelf of the cupboard above the sink.  Lee put his and Jenna’s cups on a tray and took them back into the family room. Jenna gave a little jump at the sound of his footsteps, followed by an expression of relief when she realized it was him.

Even when she’s awake she’s terrified…Amanda’s words echoed in his ears.

“Here you go.” Lee handed her the mug. “Be careful—it’s hot.” 

Jenna sat up.  She wrapped her hands around the mug and took a small sip, putting it down on the coffee table. “Thanks Dad.” 

“You’re welcome,” Lee said.  More silence from Jenna.  Lee sipped his hot chocolate slowly, looking over at his daughter. Even in the dim light of the TV set he could still see the bruising around one eye and the stitched wound on her forehead. Jenna shifted position slightly, twisting her torso as she did. Lee saw her wince with the pain that the small movement caused in her ribcage. The outer wounds would heal eventually, he knew.  But the inner wounds—those would take much longer. His mind went back to the broken bottle of Brut in his bathroom— to the image of his daughter—cowering on her bed, trembling, pulling away from the slightest touch.

‘What if she’s just as broken as the bottle?’ Lee wondered. ‘What if we can’t put her together again?’

He should’ve strangled Johnston when he’d had the chance. 

“Do you need any pain medicine?” he asked Jenna.

Jenna shook her head. “No—it makes me too sleepy.”

“Well maybe sleep is a good thing—you just got out of the hospital—the doctors said that you need rest so you can heal.”

“I said I don’t want any,” Jenna snapped. 

Lee decided to drop the matter. Jenna could be as stubborn as Amanda when she wanted to be. He looked at the television screen. “What exactly are we watching?” he asked Jenna.

“The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh,” Jenna said. “Before that I think it was the Care Bears.” 

“You used to love this show when you were little,” Lee watched as Tigger, dressed up like a giant carrot, and chased the other characters around. “I remember how you’d hop around the living room every Saturday morning whenever the theme song came on. Your mom said you bounced more than Tigger did.” 

“I remember,” Jenna said. “I wanted to be just like Tigger.” 

Lee and Jenna watched the cartoon in silence for several moments as Pooh and his friends tried to set a trap for the giant carrot before discovering that the carrot was nothing but a costume. Piglet was the most afraid as usual—panicking and dropping the honey jar on himself instead of Tigger. Ashamed, Piglet turned to leave and Pooh tried to stop him.

“No Pooh, when I thought you were in danger I couldn’t even help you,” Piglet sniffed. “No one needs a friend who’s always afraid.” 

Lee heard another sniff, this time coming from Jenna. He looked over to see fresh tears running down his daughter’s cheeks. 

“Hey, munchkin.” Putting his mug down on the coffee table, Lee pulled Jenna into a gentle hug, her head resting on his shoulder.  He could feel her shaking, but at least she was letting him hold her.

“It’s okay” he said, smoothing her now short hair with one hand. “Take it easy.” 

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“What for?” Lee asked her.

“About what happened earlier, I mean—I don’t remember a lot—it was just that smell—it made me feel like it was happening all over again.” 

“You listen to me, Jenna—you have nothing to apologize for,” he told her.  “What happened was not your fault.” 

“But I hate this, Dad. I hate that I’m acting this way, I hate feeling so scared all the time—all I want is for everything to be normal again.”  

“We all want that—it’s just going to take some time.”  Lee paused for a moment, knowing that he was going to have to choose his next words very carefully. “Jenna—what would you say about maybe going to see someone who can help you deal with this?” 

“Who?”  Jenna asked.

“Just a doctor where I work—Dr. Pfaff—he sometimes helps with these kinds of problems.” 

 “What kind of doctor?” 

“He’s a psychiatrist.”

“What would he do?”

“Well, he’d listen to you—give you advice—he might be able to help you stop feeling so afraid all the time. Wouldn’t you like that?” 

Jenna was silent a long time before speaking again. “What about drugs—he wouldn’t be giving me any, would he?” 

“Why do you think he’d give you drugs?” 

“Dad, most of the other kids in my class at school take either Ritalin or they’re on some kind of anti-depressant—I just don’t—I don’t want anything like that.”

Lee took her hands in his. “I understand. When we go to see him, we’ll tell him that you don’t want any drugs—I’m sure that’ll be fine. Deal?”  

“It’s a deal—” Jenna punctuated the sentence with a yawn.  “Dad—if I go to sleep just don’t leave—promise?” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Lee told her. 

Jenna smiled again. “I love you, dad.” 

“Love you too, munchkin.”  Lee stayed there, holding Jenna until her eyes finally closed and she gradually relaxed into sleep.

Only then did he allow his own eyes to close as well.