The Fading Trilogy: Fading, Freeing, Falling: Includes 2 BONUS short stories

by E. K. Blair

  "You tired?"

  I open my eyes to Jack's voice, and he is kneeling down in front of me with his hands on my knees. I look at him and nod my head. He stands up, takes my hand, and starts walking me back into the house. When he takes me upstairs, he leads me into a dark room with a couple full-sized beds.

  "What are we doing in here?" I ask him and he moves to sit down on one of the beds.

  "I figure we could just hang out and relax away from all the noise. Is that all right?"

  I walk over to him and sit down. "Yeah," I say, and then I turn to look at him. "I'm sorry I'm being a drag. I've just had a long day."

  "It's fine, Candace," he says as he lies back on the bed.

  I shift and lie down next to him and close my eyes. My head is starting to throb with an oncoming headache. We just lie there in silence, and the peace feels really nice. Jack brushes his hand over my cheek, and my eyes flutter open. Leaning over me, he looks in my eyes, and I can smell an obscene amount of liquor on his breath.

  "Jack," I whisper as he leans down and presses his lips against mine. I know this is wrong, and he has clearly had too much to drink, but I find myself getting caught up in the moment. I run my hand up the back of his neck and start kissing him in return. He rolls on top of me, and the weight of him presses me into the bed. Our kisses turn frantic, and my breath quickly becomes labored. He runs his hand across my stomach, hooks it into the waistband of my pants, and gently tugs down. I feel my stomach knot up, and I push away.

  "I'm sorry," I say, closing my eyes tightly. "I shouldn't be doing this."

  "What the fuck, Candace," he spits out, and when I open my eyes, I see the irritated look on his face. "What's the problem? It's like one minute you're all over me, and the next, you're pushing me away. You pulled this same act the other night."

  I push back against his chest, but he doesn't move. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little confused. I don't want to lead you on, but—"

  He crashes his mouth against mine and starts kissing me again. What the hell is he doing? I push against his shoulders, but I'm only pushing myself deeper into the bed. I feel his hand run up my inner thigh and between my legs. I gasp for air, but I feel like I can't get enough into my lungs. I jerk my head back and forth and manage to roll onto my side. The weight is gone. Taking a deep breath, I look at Jack who is sitting on his knees in the middle of the bed.

  "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I shout as I stand up on my shaky legs.

  Laughing at me, he says, "You can stop with the good-girl act, Candace." He says my name like it's dripping in disdain. He climbs off of the bed and starts walking towards me. "I just can't figure you out, and it's starting to frustrate me. I like you, but I get the feeling like you're playing me."

  "I'm not. I'm just...I don't know. I just don't think this is going to go anywhere," I say as I stare at the floor.

  Jack tightly grips my shoulders with both of his hands, pushing me backwards. I stumble a little when we hit the wall. My body turns cold, and I feel the skin on my neck prickling. I'm getting nervous, and my heartbeat quickens. What is he doing? Is he pissed? Shit, I just want to leave. I just want to go home and pretend this night never happened. It's been weird from the start, and it's only getting worse.

  "Oh, no? And why's that? You must think it's funny to lead me on. Is this how you get your kicks?" He is inches from me when he speaks, his breath hot on my face.

  My shoulders are trembling under his hands, and I feel the lump in my throat growing bigger, which is making it hard for me to breathe.

  "I'm not jerking you around, I swear. Listen, I'm not good at this stuff. It's not you." My voice is shaky, and I hate that.

  He pushes his body up against me and buries his face in my neck. I gasp for air and let out a whimper. I don't want to cry, but my emotions are all over the place right now. He thrusts his hips against mine, and that is my undoing. Tears flow down my cheeks, and I'm pushing my hands against his chest, but he won't budge.

  "Jack, stop! What are you doing?" I am freaking out as he completely smothers me. Fisting my hands, I start smashing them into his chest, trying to get him off of me. I can barely see through my tears, and I wind up punching his lip. He takes a step back and wipes his mouth. It's bleeding. He looks up at me with a murderous glare, and I know he's about to lose it. I bolt for the door and run.

  My heart is pounding against my ribs, and I struggle to breathe as I run down the stairs. Bumping shoulders with people in the crowded living room and stumbling over my shaky feet, I find the door that leads out to where Jack's car is.

  I notice I don't have my wristlet purse that has my cell phone in it. There is no way I'm going back inside though. I quickly decide to just walk home and deal with the purse situation later. It won't take long for me to get home if I cut through behind a few buildings. I walk fast and try to grasp what just happened, but I can't clear my head enough to focus. My heart is starting to slow, and the tears return. I am overwhelmed, and I think it is so much more than what just happened with Jack. Confusion doesn't even begin to describe my current state of mind.

  "Candace! Wait!" I hear Jack's voice calling from behind me.

  I turn to see my tiny gold purse clutched in his hand, but fear creeps over me, and suddenly, I don't care about the stupid purse anymore. I run.

  I run fast.

  I hear his feet pounding against the ground, and I know he's running after me. FUCK! I will my legs to move faster but they won't. My throat is on fire, and I can't breathe. I don't turn around to see, but I know he's close. My whole body is burning with panic. Quickly, I cut behind a building and suddenly feel an intense stinging as the side of my face slides against the pavement. Jack is flipping me over onto my back while I desperately claw my nails into the road, pleading to break free from his grip on me. The flesh on my cheek burns as he slaps me across the face. I can't see. Why can't I see? I force out a weak scream and am instantly muffled by his hand.

  "Shut the fuck up," he violently snarls in my face.

  I can barely make out his face with the tears that flood my eyes. I squeeze them shut because they are burning intensely. My body is weighed down, and I can't move beneath him. I'm not sure what's happening, but the terror rushing through me is frightening.

  He reaches down, rips open my jeans, and starts yanking on them. I try and kick my legs uncontrollably, but he's sitting on them. Somehow, he manages to pull them off of one of my legs, as he releases his hand from my mouth.

  "Plea-hease. Stop!" I scream, and he quickly clamps his hand back over my mouth. I desperately try to bite him, but I'm too frantic. I'm sobbing and barely breathing. It takes everything I have to choke out any sounds. But, it's no use. I hysterically pound my fists as hard as I can against him, but he won't stop. God, please stop!

  Grabbing the neck of my shirt, he jerks down, tearing the soft worn fabric too easily. With everything I have in me, I try to lock my knees together, but he's so much more powerful than me when he knees my thighs and forces them open. Consumed by rampant fear, I fight as hard as I can, screaming against his hand. I feel him pulling my bra down, and my breast begins to burn. I'm in such a panic when I realize that he is biting me. Shrieking in desperation as the pain shoots down to my belly, I dig my nails into his arms in response to the pain.

  "Bitch!" He shouts through clenched teeth as he pulls back and backhands me across my face. The blood pools in my mouth, and my body heaves as I begin to choke on it through my cries. Somebody help me! The fabric of my underwear cuts into my skin and stings when he rips them off of me. "You're not gonna fuckin' tease me anymore, bitch."

  He pins my wrists above my head with his large hand, and my body shakes in horror when I realize that I'm completely helpless. God, please don't do this!

  I manage to let out another choked sob as I frantically try to jerk my body from underneath him, but my muscles are so weak, and the weight of him is too much for me to fight. He's so heavy on me. I wail when I feel a sudden burn as he
violently rips and pounds into me. My whole body locks up.

  What's happening?

  Is this happening?

  God, is this happening?

  Is this really happening?

  My head falls to the side, and my body goes limp aside from the involuntary twitches from each of his assaults. I focus every ounce of strength I have left on the corner of the dumpster that's next to me. It's painted dark blue, but maybe it's a lighter blue during the daylight. I can tell it's been painted five or six times...I can see every layer. It's chipping away, and the dark grey metal from underneath is exposed. The line along the chipped paint is ridged and there is a thin vein of white between the blue and grey. Gritty dirt clings to the wheel, and the wheel lock is beginning to rust. The dumpster is worn and full of dents... one... two... three... four... five... six...

  I snap out of my thoughts when Jack grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. "Tell me you like this," he taunts, and my sobs are excruciating as I feel his body jerk into mine, and he stills himself, grunting loudly.

  He yanks his pants up and starts running his hand down my naked torso. What else does he want from me?

  "You're nothing but a cunt," he lashes when he abruptly jabs his fingers inside of me and then spits in my face.

  I begin to yell and thrash my body, fighting to escape. "God, please! Stop!"

  He lifts up, and suddenly, I see a flash of light that is devoured by darkness and silence.

  Where am I? Why can't I see? I hurt.

  I try and move but something is holding me down. I feel my body rattling on something hard, and I sense that I am moving.

  Am I dreaming? I'm so confused. What's happening?

  I feel like I'm in a car or something, but I can't move.

  Why can't I move?!

  I'm panicking. I can feel it, feel my heart beating harder and louder.

  Open your eyes, Candace. Focus—open your eyes.

  "Miss?" I hear a man say.

  Someone's here. Help me! Wake me up!

  "Try and relax, Miss. We're almost there."

  Where? What's happening? Someone fucking help me!! Where am I?!

  Sheer fright shoots through me, and I feel the strain in my eyes as they start to open. I squeeze them shut immediately because they burn. I start to feel my body come to life and wriggle my wrists, but something is holding them down. I'm terrified and turn frantic as I keep trying to free my arms. The wriggling quickly turns into erratic jerks. I'm strapped down and I'm terrified.

  "Help me! Get me out of here!" I shriek out in a hoarse voice. I try to move my head, but I can't. I feel something is wrapped around my neck preventing me from moving.

  "It's okay, we're almost there. You're in an ambulance. You were knocked unconscious. We're on our way to the hospital."

  I try and open my eyes, but they still sting. I blink several times when I feel a damp cloth cover them. I start crying at the calming feel of the cool wet cloth. He presses it down gently on my eyes and forehead, then wipes softly.

  "Try opening your eyes," the man says.

  I do as I'm told, and he wipes one more time. After a few seconds the sting starts to subside.

  "You have a lot of dirt and sweat that has gotten into your eyes."

  Blinking a few more times, I start to focus on the man hovering over me. I keep trying to move, but I can't get my limbs free.

  "Just try and relax," he says in a soothing voice. "You are strapped down to a backboard and are wearing a neck brace until we can assess your injuries."

  I stare up at the bright white light that is above me in the cab of the ambulance and focus on my breathing.

  What just happened? Is this even real?

  "Miss, how do you feel? Can you tell me if anything hurts?" he asks.

  How do I feel? I don't know how I feel. I don't even know what the hell just happened. I feel scared and numb. I feel everything and nothing all at once. I feel like this is a dream—a very, very bad dream that I can't wake up from. I don't understand. I'm so confused. Fear and misery rip through me and create a new emotion that I can't even begin to describe. My heated tears roll continuously down the side of my face as I remain staring at the white light.

  "Miss?"

  "I don't know," is all I can manage to say, my only attempt at a response to his very confusing question.

  I move my eyes downward to look at my body, and I am covered in a grey wool blanket. Suddenly, I remember that I am naked beneath this blanket. Embarrassment wells up inside of me, and I begin to sob uncontrollably.

  "I want to go home!" I choke out. "I want to go home!!" I barely recognize my own voice. The panic I hear in myself is frightening.

  We stop abruptly, and the smell of fresh air envelops the ambulance as the doors to the cab open. As I am rolled out, I watch the white light move up and over the top of my head. I want to cover my face with my hands, but they are still strapped down. I start choking on short breaths between sobs. Where are they taking me? What's going to happen? I feel completely out of control, and I live for control.

  There is a lot of noise and people chattering while I am being wheeled into the hospital. I'm finding it hard to hear what they are saying over my crying and heaving breaths. But the whole world stops moving when I hear that unmistakable word. Don't say that word. I can't move. I can't blink. I can't do anything. This isn't me. This can't be me.

  I am wheeled into a private exam room, and there are several nurses moving around and checking the IV that must have been put in place while I was unconscious. My legs and arms are finally unstrapped, but I no longer feel the need to move. I just lie there. Still. One of the nurses stands by me and asks, "Ma'am, my name is Allie. I need to ask you some basic questions. Is that okay?"

  I nod my head.

  "Can you tell me your name?"

  I look at the nurse and she looks to be in her thirties. She's pretty, with a short blonde bob and almost emerald eyes. Her scrubs are green, which make her eyes appear extremely vibrant. She has flawless makeup, especially her black eyeliner. The stethoscope's cord that hangs around her neck is hot pink, and I figure that outside of work, she must have a flair for style. I don't really know, I'm just imagining.

  I feel my hand warm, and I look down to see that she is now holding it. I look back up at her green eyes. "Candace," I whisper.

  Taking her hand from mine, she starts writing on the clipboard she is holding.

  "Last name?"

  "Parker."

  She continues through the questions as she fills out my chart with all of my information. When she finishes, she tells me that she is going to call another nurse who handles cases like mine to come in and talk with me.

  "Would you like to call anyone?" she asks me.

  I shake my head no. I don't want to talk to anyone. How would I even begin to explain this?

  "Would you like me to call someone for you? Sometimes it's easier if you have a friend here with you."

  Looking up at Allie, my eyes begin to fill with tears again. I do want my friend here. I want him here so badly, but I am so embarrassed. What will I even say? All I know is that I want Jase here.

  "You'll call for me?" I ask, my voice shaky.

  "Of course," she says softly.

  "Jase. You can call Jase," I say. I give her his number, and she leaves the room.

  I am only alone for a few minutes when a doctor wearing a white coat enters my room, along with another nurse who is carrying a white cardboard box. She sets it down on a table, walks over to me, and stands next to the doctor who is holding a steel box clipboard and is looking at it intently. When she looks up at me, she says, "Hello, Ms. Parker, I'm Dr. Langston. I am ordering a CT scan to rule out any evidence of a cerebral hemorrhage and a set of x-rays to be certain you don't have any fractures or broken bones."

  I hear her words, but nothing makes sense to me. So I just lie there while tears stream down my temples and into my hair.

  She sets the clipboard down, walks over t
o me, and assesses my face. She shines a small flashlight into each of my eyes then steps away as she puts the light back into the pocket on her white coat.

  "This is Julia, and she is the Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner for the hospital. She's going to talk to you while we are waiting to run those scans, okay?" She says this all so matter-of-factly, and I'm not sure how to even react, so I just whisper, "Okay."

  Dr. Langston proceeds to walk out of the room and closes the door behind her.

  "Hi, Candace," Julia says in a soft, pleasant tone. I wonder if they teach everyone here how to talk to people like me, because they all sound the same. Gentle, as if they could break me with their words. "I need to know if you want to complete a sexual assault evidence kit examination."

  I feel my heart rate pick up and anxiety kicks in. "I'm sorry. What?" I ask.

  "A rape kit," she says. "It is an exam that is used to collect DNA evidence." She continues to talk to me and goes into more explanation, but her voice becomes distant. How is this happening to me? I don't know what to do. I look back at Julia to see her looking at me, and she's no longer talking.

  I shake my head and say, "I don't know. I...I don't know."

  "How about if we just talk? Can I ask you a few questions about what happened tonight?"

  "Okay," I say unsurely.

  She picks up her clipboard and pen, and then asks, "Do you know who did this?"

  I hesitate before answering, "Uh huh."

  "Can you tell me his name?"

  "Why? What's going to happen?" I'm extremely nervous, and I'm not sure how much I should say.

  "Nothing will happen unless you want to press charges."