by Kim Petersen
She stared unseeing at the contents of the wooden box as it perched on her bed. She closed the lid with a flick of her hand and carefully turned the small key in the lock until it fastened tight. Millie was absently examining the old delicately painted shells that had once adorned the handmade box when a tap at her bedroom window startled her. The digits displayed on the clock by her bed registered the late time of night, and she jammed the box under her bed and went over to draw the stiff old curtains that concealed the windows to her room.
She squinted through the glass to find Emily standing outside in the eerie light of the street. Even in the dim light, Millie could see she had been weeping too. Her porcelain features appeared dull and sunken. Her right eye seemed so swollen that it was almost closed, causing Millie to gasp. Her own troubles fell aside instantly as concern for her friend washed through her.
“Where have you been?” Emily whined.
Millie put an index finger up to her lips to shush her friend then gestured for Emily to meet her at the front door. She tiptoed through the hall and ushered Emily to her bedroom. She gripped Emily’s arms and inspected her thoroughly. Not only was Emily’s right eye swollen and bruised, but there were finger mark bruises imprinted in the pale flesh of her wrists and arms.
“My God, Em! What happened? Who did this to you?”
Emily fell into Millie’s arms and began to tremble as fresh tears fell down her face. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking and looking for you!” she wailed.
Trying her best to keep her own tears at bay, Millie stroked the back of Emily’s hair that clung in a damp cluster to her scalp. She had been out in the stormy weather for some time, Millie figured, as she hushed her, rocking her in the unsteadiness her arms provided.
“I’m sorry,” Millie said and repeated it.
There was a faint knock at her bedroom door, and she was unable to answer in time before it swung open, revealing the cloudy image of her father in the dreary backdrop of the hall.
“Is everything okay?” Glen asked with a thick eyebrow raised.
Despite the downpour of wild emotion that brewed between them earlier, Millie felt a flood of relief when she saw her father because she was certain she knew who was Emily’s attacker, and she knew she was powerless to help her friend. I will need my father for this one, she thought, as she remembered the whispered promise she had delivered in a darkened street to Emily’s stepfather.
She squared her jaw as she shook her head. “No Dad. Emily has been hurt. Look!” She pulled herself away from Emily a little so her father might catch a better view of her swollen face and bruised arms.
Glen pulled on a dust covered wire cord in the centre of the bedroom to turn on the light, and took the two long strides to hunch down next to the girls. He glanced uncertainly at Millie, searching for any signs of hostility left from their earlier confrontation. When all he saw was his daughter’s look of concern for her friend, he sighed in relief and turned to take a closer look at Emily. He decided he would do anything to keep the hostility he saw that morning from returning to his daughter’s eyes, and if that meant taking care of her promiscuous friend, then so be it.
He examined Emily without emotion. “Who did this, Emily?”
Emily looked up at him while still clinging to Millie, and gulped down the lump beginning to form in her throat. She recognised the contempt in Glen’s eyes, yet despite the degrading feelings Glen evoked from her, his dominating presence compelled her to answer.
Forcing back a sob, she said, “My mother has gone away for the weekend with her church group.” She avoided his accusing green eyes and drew a gritty breath. “I was beaten because I fought back when my stepfather raped me.”
Glen massaged his chin in thought as he weighed up the information Emily had revealed. He deliberated over whether to be involved or to hand the incident over to the police, since after all, she wasn’t his daughter. He wasn’t inclined to spend valuable energy on people or subjects that held no use to him, especially when the black serpent made its home within him again. He flinched in pain as he fought for control while the serpent demanded to be in control.
He cleared his throat with a guttural grunt. “We should call for the police; they will handle this and get you to the hospital,” he said with pragmatic insight.
“No Dad! We can’t hand it over to the police. That won’t work for Emily; her mother will never understand,” Millie protested. “Please, Dad. Can’t you go have a word with him? Please.”
He nodded with a drawn-out sigh as he resigned himself to conceding to his daughter’s pleas, while his own eyes communicated to her a plea of their own. Both father and daughter were aware of the delicate edge between them, and both were equally mindful that the upper hand belonged to her.
Glen strode determinedly out of the room to pay a visit to his not-so-friendly neighbour. The black demon within him relished the task which would serve as a delicious appetiser for his future plans regarding Lilly. Stupid woman! he thought as he neared Emily’s front porch. With her meddling ways, she has sealed her own fate … and to think, I was willing to let her go gracefully! Thoughts of his estranged wife added fuel to the fire smouldering within him, and by the time he reached his neighbour’s house, he was more than ready to vent the rage that had been brewing all day. His focus was so narrow that he failed to notice that Millie and Emily had followed him outside to watch from the steps of his own porch. And they in turn were unaware of Ace who had slipped through the door unnoticed and stood under the cover of the shadows of the porch to watch.
The inky door under the verandah of Emily’s house opened slowly under Glen’s persistent bashing. The light of the cobwebbed globe that hung on the brick wall near the entrance illuminated the area with a dull-yellow glow as Drew struggled to awaken to his late-night caller. Long, wiry fingers fumbled with spectacles to gain a better look at the culprit who dared interrupt his sleep. The man’s bony hands trembled as he slicked back the greasy hair that already stuck to a dirty scalp when he recognised Glen. He cleared his throat nervously while hesitant eyes met Glen’s silent stare for the briefest of moments. The last encounter years before with the man that stood at his door still lingered on a bruised ego and remained fresh in Drew’s mind. Glancing down at the dirty pale night shirt that slung loosely about his thin body, Drew attempted to greet his guest in the friendliest way he could muster.
“Ermmm … hello,” he mumbled with a hesitant smile as his eyes strayed to the old metal baseball bat he kept in the corner behind the front door. More confident now, he steeled himself and stared back at Glen. “How can I help you at this ungodly hour? It’s very late you know.”
Glen grinned and his eyes flashed dangerously. “Oh mate, I’m sorry for the late call and all but I think you know why I’m here,” Glen said calmly, before breaking into an eerie chuckle.
Unnerved again, Drew was unsure what to make of Glen’s statement. Surely he couldn’t be here because of Emily? As hard as it had been, he had left her alone for the most part over the years. Well, apart from a harmless little feel every now and then. But the fault wasn’t his; after all, how could a man honestly contain himself with a young piece of arse like that in his face? He had just lost control earlier that evening and went too far, that’s all. Nothing serious! – And she’s almost twenty years old for God’s sake! If he could just explain this to his surly neighbour, he was certain Glen would understand. Tiny beads of sweat began to cluster above the wiry bush of his mousy brow. He glanced back at the baseball bat, not entirely convinced now it would offer protection.
“Umm … is Emily okay? She hasn’t been bothering you, has she?” Drew laughed nervously.
Glen’s eyes narrowed as they honed in on him. “You’re right! That is exactly why I am here, Drew. You see, I don’t appreciate being disturbed at such a late hour, just as you don’t.” He chuckled again, “And I’m awake and here now because she’s crying in my daughter’s room because you’ve hurt her.”
“She’s no longer a child!” Drew mumbled. “I mean to say, I really didn’t mean to hurt her. She was into it, I swear! She’s into it with everyone else it seems.” He laughed nervously. “So why not me?”
Glen tore his eyes away from him in disgust. He’d had enough and was eager to finish the whole sorry episode as quickly as he could. He waved his hand in front of him to shut him up.
“Does it ever occur to you to actually wash your hair?” Glen snarled.
Drew looked back in incomprehension before Glen’s fist smashed into his face. His body buckled as he was thrown against the door frame. A second blow landed on the side of his jaw. There was a loud crack of bones breaking as Drew’s head collided with the hardwood door. His long scrawny legs gave way, but before he reached the floor, Glen grabbed him by his shoulders and hoisted him to his feet to continue the onslaught. Blood oozed from a swollen mouth. The punches kept coming as Drew slumped to his knees and the assault ended.
Glen crouched down to inspect the knuckles of his bloodied hands with a meticulous eye as he hovered over Drew’s writhing body. “You are disgusting,” he said. “Don’t ever touch her again.”
Glen turned to leave. “Clean yourself up. And for God’s sake, wash your filthy hair.”
One foot had just reached the pavement when Glen heard his daughter’s screamed warning. He swung back around, but it was too late. The hard metal of Drew’s baseball bat connected with the side of his head. He almost lost his footing as he lifted up his arm in time to block the next shaky blow. He snatched the weapon from Drew’s grasp and swung it with all his strength at Drew’s knees. The man fell to the pavement with a thud, and threw up his arms to ward off further blows, but Glen threw the bat aside and stormed off as Drew lost consciousness.
***
Millie was unable to tear her eyes away from the savagery she had just witnessed from her father. Her eyes widened in a strange combination of horror and pride when he brushed past her without a word and disappeared into the house. This was a side to her father she had never known, despite being aware of his violent tendencies. He was like a stranger to her now, and she knew she could never forget the sight of the devastating rage she had just witnessed, and it was all her doing. She ushered Emily back in the house and into her room and went after her father. She did not know what to expect. All she knew was that she had to see him and find out for herself. For now, the balance was redressed.
In her haste, Millie failed to notice her younger brother slip into the house behind her and Emily. If she had, she would have seen his pallid face, trembling lips, and the grey that crept into his eyes.
Chapter Eighteen
November 8, 1991
M illie cried out as Emily’s elbow whacked into her face as she slept. She shoved the offending elbow aside and rolled over with a groan. Emily had been staying with them since the night Drew had assaulted her. It had been a month now, and as much as Millie adored her friend’s company, she hated sharing her double bed with her every night. However, she saw no end in sight for the near future, as Emily was still only part way through her hairdressing apprenticeship, and with her meagre wages, there was no way she could afford a place of her own. And returning to her home with her recuperating stepfather and her judgemental mother was out of the question.
She gazed around the room from her position in the bed. Perhaps we could just squeeze another bed in here somehow, Millie wondered, as she knew her room was too small for another bed. She felt Emily stir again, and dodged another flying arm. In a single smooth motion, she rolled out of bed and landed on her feet.
“Sorry,” Emily’s muffled voice said from beneath the sheets, while she stretched to enjoy the extra room that was suddenly granted her.
“Yeah, sure,” Millie responded dryly.
She started towards the bathroom when she was forced to pause as nausea and dizziness hindered her progress. She sat back down on the edge of the bed as her mind went into overdrive, as this wasn’t the first morning that she had felt like this recently. She knew she would have to face the sneaking suspicion that had plagued her over the last couple of days. Her period had not yet arrived, and coupled with the worsening nausea spelled one thing. Great, just what I need now, and with Damon gone! She had been trying to contact Damon using the information he had left for her but to no avail. The overseas phone number was not yet connected, and her letters had gone unanswered. Her thoughts became frantic at facing an unplanned pregnancy without Damon at her side. Then, unable to contain the nausea a second longer, she bolted to the bathroom.
She vowed to visit her doctor later that day to find out exactly why she had been feeling so sick. It’s probably just a little bug I’ve caught, she told herself as she dry retched into the bowl of the toilet for the third time.
After washing up and dressing, Millie forced herself to nibble on a slice of vegemite smeared toast, knowing her persistence would eventually pay off and quell the nausea for a while. She could hear the beginnings of the household morning stirrings as she passed through the hallway and heard Emily showering, preparing herself for work.
“Good morning, Millie!” Ace called out from behind her on his way to the kitchen to have his morning Weetbix before the school day began.
“Morning,” she replied without enthusiasm.
She passed through the front door to attend to her daily ritual of checking the mailbox for a letter from Damon. She had recently finished her final year of school, and decided to look for a job to fill in her summer break, as she wasn’t going to art school until the following year. Perhaps I should try the little art gallery store in Rockton for a job, she thought idly, while making her way down the porch steps to the pavement that led to the mailbox.
As she leaned to check for any sign of letters, Millie caught sight of Dawn Kent. The woman wore a floral shift dress that fell to her ankles and swished over and around the fleshy rolls beneath as she waddled past Millie. Faded blue-grey eyes were fixed ahead beneath a dark blonde perm that frizzled under the sweat inducing morning sun.
“Good Morning, Mrs Kent.” Millie laced her greeting with mock friendliness.
Mrs Kent barely glanced at Millie as she grunted past as fast as her legs were able.
“Well, that was nice,” Millie grumbled to herself as she watched Mrs Kent duck waddle past the front gate and towards her house, noticing the cloudy dark blue haze that had fallen over her fumbling figure as she had passed her by the front gate.
Millie’s eyes paused on the now disappearing form of the woman, and wondered at the meaning behind the misty cloud of colours she often saw lingering around others. It is easy to see why Emily has so much trouble communicating with her mother, she thought as her hands came across a lone envelope laying at the bottom of the box, along with some dry leaves that had flown astray in the wind, only to find themselves captive with one envelope addressed to Millie from the United States of America. Her mood instantly brightened as she recognised Damon’s bold handwriting, and she hurried back to the house.
Once inside her room, she realised it would be at least an hour before she had the privacy she wanted, as Emily was buzzing about to prepare for work. So, bidding her farewell, Millie got in her car and drove south to the willow tree at the water’s edge.
Once there, she hastened down the pathway to the clearing under the willow tree where she and Damon had made love. Her breath caught as she recalled the sacred moments they had shared the day before he had left for New York. Entangled in the throes of an inescapable web of bittersweet nostalgia, she laid herself down on the soft grass, her mind filling with the memory of their love-making. She closed her eyes and relived the ecstasy of their passion, and as she wandered deeper into those moments she had experienced only a handful of weeks before, her body stirred with the passion she had yearned for since he had left. As the desire grew within her, she felt the lustful surge arouse her, and she allowed herself to succumb to the desire as she moved her body in harmony to his i
magined presence until her breath became short and she moaned and quivered with orgasm.
She opened her eyes slowly as she regained her senses. Sitting up, she curled her legs beneath her while the euphoria gradually dissolved. She flicked her eyes around the clearing, feeling suddenly foolish, conscious that somebody might have seen her lose herself in that moment of self-pleasuring. She sighed with relief to see that she was totally alone. She peered up at the languid leaves of the willow and whispered a “thank you” to the only witness of her sexually new beginnings. She smiled a secret smile to the tree. “Okay, you know my secrets; how about yours? I bet you have many living here by the bank of the bay.”
The warm skin on the back of her neck pricked with a whisper of tingles when, as if on cue, a fluffy white dandelion thistle drifted down from within the cluster of branches. Eyes widened when another thistle joined the first and she watched as they danced before her in the slight breeze that blew around her like a gentle kiss. The thistles glided closer until they landed in the palms of her upturned hands.
Millie’s mouth fell open. “Ohhh,” she said as she beheld them. They were so light that she could not feel them on her skin. She knew the action of the two little dandelion seedlings was no accident. She reasoned that if only people took the time to listen, the universe would always talk to you. If only we would be awake to it!
