Final Quest

by B. C. Harris

  I finally settle on a tight white top with a revealing neckline, a nice contrast to my dirty blond hair.

  Is it too tight? Why am I doing this?”

  Then in an attempt to downplay my top, I pull on a pair of old jeans.

  I notice a light glowing in my emerald. I’m not sure why it’s doing this. Perhaps I shouldn’t bring my emerald with me, I think. I can’t risk Drew attempting any more commands with it. Maybe he knows some commands that I don’t know. Maybe something happened to him during his imprisonment on Zelares.

  I brush my hair again for the millionth time and reapply some bright red lipstick that is a stark contrast to my white top. I rarely wear lipstick. Next I apply eyeliner. I’m not very good at doing this, but I persist.

  As I look into a mirror, it’s as though I’m seeing someone else. My emerald is still glowing. It’s acting as though it’s trying to tell me something.

  I unclasp the gold chain around my neck. I take off my emerald although I clearly remember Capurni telling me that I should never take it off.

  I know I need to hide my emerald.

  I walk over to my dresser and pull it away from the wall. A few years ago, I dropped an earring behind my dresser by accident. As I looked for it, I discovered a small space underneath my dresser that could only be reached from behind it.

  I tuck my emerald necklace under my dresser, and then push the dresser back against the wall.

  Without my emerald, I’m either going to have to walk to Drew’s or take a taxi. I decide on a taxi. It’s a little colder out tonight with a trace of snow on the ground.

  * * * * *

  I arrive at Drew’s about twenty minutes later than expected.

  I look for a doorbell, but unable to find one I knock.

  Drew answers the door immediately.

  I gasp.

  He’s wearing skin-tight jeans and nothing else. His muscular chest begs to be touched.

  As soon as Drew closes the door, I find myself in his arms.

  He literally picks me up and carries me to his bedroom.

  The moment Drew drops me onto his bed, he rips my coat off. He’s on top of me like a mad man.

  This isn’t what I was expecting, but my mind is cloudy. I feel dizzy. My head is swimming. I want Drew to get off me, but another part of me wants him to stay.

  I attempt to push him off me, but he’s too heavy, and too strong.

  As his lips cement themselves around mine, he bites my lower lip. It hurts.

  I taste the blood.

  Instinctively I bring my knee upwards into his groin area.

  For a split-second he stops.

  Then he slaps me hard across the face.

  Something is desperately wrong.

  “Drew, slow down,” I mutter, although I don’t want him to slow down, I want him to stop.

  “Drew!” I scream.

  I start to cry.

  Drew covers my mouth with his hand. He has me pinned to the bed. His eyes look crazy.

  Drew’s demeanor changes.

  “I’m so sorry,” Drew says in a soft, caring voice. I never met to hurt you.”

  Even as Drew apologies to me, his hand is gripped tightly over my mouth.

  His other hand begins to softly caress the back of my head.

  My body is shaking uncontrollably.

  I have to leave.

  Why is my head spinning?

  How can I get away from Drew? I feel so drowsy that I don’t even know if I can stand.

  I have no way of escaping him. He’s much too powerful. It wouldn’t matter if I could scream; there’s no one else in this house to hear me.

  Drew tries to pull my sweater off me.

  I’m frantic. I bite his hand.

  “Bitch!” he shouts as he punches me in the face.

  I’m struggling to remain conscious.

  I know I can’t physically handle Drew. I’ve got to try another approach. If only I could concentrate. Why won’t my mind cooperate?

  “Drew, please stop,” I say. “We need to slow down. This is too fast for me.”

  He smiles tenderly at me.

  His fingers gently touch my face. They softly stroke my chin, my cheeks, my nose, and then my forehead.

  “It’s okay,” Drew reassures me as my body is quivering out-of-control. “I won’t do anything that you don’t want me to do.”

  Drew’s fingers slide down the side of my face, gently massaging the skin. His fingers continue to my neck.

  His touch repulses me.

  “Where’s your emerald necklace?” Drew asks, his question coming out like an accusation that I have done something wrong.

  “I didn’t bring it,” I manage to say through my bloody, trembling lips.

  Drew’s face turns wild.

  He grabs my arms so hard that they feel like they’re going to break. In the same motion he drives my head against a wooden headboard on his bed.

  “My head,” I groan.

  Drew’s face goes blank. It’s as though someone shot him with a powerful tranquilizer. His eyes are staring right through me.

  His grip on my arms loosens.

  He pulls back away from me.

  “I’m sorry,” Drew says. “I’m not sure what overcame me.”

  Drew is like two people. It’s as though he has a Jekyll and Hyde personality disorder. In my psychology class we studied about some people who have two completely opposing personalities, who sometimes switch from being the nicest person in the world to an angry crazed monster. Have I just witnessed this with Drew?

  Drew reaches out and touches my legs.

  I jerk backwards so hard that I smash my head on the wall.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I don’t know what got into me.”

  For a moment, Drew is a blur. I’m having trouble focusing.

  I’ve got to escape.

  “A glass of water,” I say. “I need a glass of water.”

  “I’ll get your water,” Drew says affectionately.

  Drew edges off the side of the bed. His eyes don’t leave me as he steps out of the room.

  I stand, but almost fall over.

  I grab my coat.

  My head feels dizzy again.

  I force myself to walk.

  A hallway outside Drew’s bedroom leads to the front door.

  Before Drew reappears, I’m out of the house, stumbling in the cold and falling snow.

  I’ve got to get away from here, I think. My life depends on it.

  - 43 -

  SHADOWS IN THE NIGHT

  After running for five or ten minutes, I’m exhausted. I’m having trouble controlling my balance. I’m constantly falling.

  I’m too nauseous to even consider making it to my house. Right now I have to find a way to prevent Drew from finding me.

  I can’t see Drew anywhere, but I’m sure he must be looking for me.

  I try to compose myself. Even though I slow down I slip on the snowy sidewalk and take another tumble. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve fallen. My head won’t stop spinning. At any moment I expect to be sick.

  I try to focus as I struggle to get back to my feet.

  Jasmin’s house is only a few blocks away.

  I can’t go to Jasmin’s. How would I ever explain to her that Drew attacked me in his bedroom?

  Michael lives two or three blocks away. A few blocks past Michael’s house is a shopping mall.

  I’ve got to make it to the mall.

  I force myself to stand. I notice the snow around me is streaked with blood. My lips are bleeding. My cheek, where Drew punched me, feels like it’s going to burst. There’s a hole in the knee of my jeans. Blood is flowing from a gash on my knee. My hands are cut and bleeding from falling. My coat and white top are splattered with blood.

  I have to reach the mall. I’ll be safe there.

  I stumble forward.

  What will happen when I reach the mall? Will someone call the police when they see me? I don’t want t
o involve the police. I don’t want to explain what happened. I want to be left alone. I want to forget that tonight ever existed.

  I turn a corner. I look behind me. I think I see a shadow moving suspiciously behind me.

  I almost fall as I try to increase my speed.

  The air is cold. My hands are beginning to feel numb in spite of the adrenalin rushing through me.

  Crossing another street, I’m sure I’m being followed. I’m too frightened to even turn around to look. If only I had my emerald with me.

  I hear loud steps behind me on the crisp frozen ground.

  A branch snaps off a bush.

  I pick up my pace.

  I’m a little over a block away from Michael’s house and maybe only ten minutes from the mall.

  Footsteps behind me grow louder.

  I look back. A dark shadow vanishes behind a bush.

  I can’t see anyone, but I know someone is there. Someone is following me. It has to be Drew.

  Should I knock on the door of a random house?

  The street lights are on the other side of the street. I need to get out of the darkness.

  I step off the curb.

  The screeching of brakes and the blaring of a horn greet me. I fall backwards.

  I almost stepped in front of a car.

  The driver doesn’t even stop to see if I’m okay.

  The night is still. All I can hear is my heavy panting. My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest.

  I look in every direction. I can’t see anyone. Am I beginning to imagine things?

  I pick myself up again.

  I see him.

  A shadow emerges from behind a tree. I know it’s Drew.

  I try to run.

  Footsteps are pounding behind me.

  I’m never going to make it to the mall.

  I’m frantic.

  I can see Michael’s house.

  I cross the street.

  Three more houses.

  I slip on the slick sidewalk.

  I somersault before I come to a stop.

  I try to stand.

  Someone smashes into me like a linebacker tackling a quarterback.

  I’m driven to the ground.

  A powerful body leaps on top of me, pinning me to the ground.

  It’s Drew.

  His fingers wrap around my neck.

  “Where’s the emerald?” he demands.

  His grip is so tight that I’m unable to breathe.

  A car honks.

  A voice yells, “Hey, what is going on there? I’m going to call the police.”

  Instantly Drew releases his grip on me and flees into the darkness.

  I look at the car as I fight to catch my breath.

  A male driver, maybe in his late fifties, is staring at me as though he’s deciding what to do next.

  Suddenly the car slides away.

  How can he leave me?

  Drew is going to return.

  I force myself to stand.

  I taste the blood in my mouth.

  My leg feels like it is broken.

  My hands are limp.

  Two more houses.

  - 44 -

  A LOSS OF INNOCENCE

  It feels like it took forever before I reach Michael’s house.

  I ring the doorbell.

  I pound on the door. The blood from my hands streaks the door.

  My lip is bleeding harder now.

  My right leg feels like someone attacked it with an axe.

  I can barely stand.

  I start to pound again with my fist, only to discover that I’m striking the arms of Michael’s mother.

  “Emily, what happened?”

  “Please, a bathroom,” I gasp. “Please get me to a bathroom.”

  In spite of my desperate need for help, I can’t let Michael see me like this.

  “This way,” Michael’s mother says, as though she’s accustomed to handling emergencies like this every day.

  She gently, but quickly, leads me to a bathroom that is thankfully located a few steps inside their front hallway.

  “Who is it?” a man’s voice shouts out.

  It’s Michael’s father.

  Just before I enter the bathroom, I catch a glimpse of Michael standing further along in the hallway. As he looks at me, his eyes fill with horror.

  “Thank you,” I gasp as the bathroom door closes behind us.

  A glance in the mirror tells me how terrible I look. There’s lipstick and blood smeared around my puffy lips. My black and blue cheek looks like it’s going to burst. My eyes are dark and puffy.

  I start to cry.

  Soon the tears are flowing uncontrollably.

  “Drew attacked me,” I sputter. “I don’t even know why I was with him.”

  Mrs. Worsley hugs me.

  My body heaves.

  I want to crawl into a dark corner somewhere and die. What have I done wrong? How did this ever happen?

  “Emily, it’s not your fault.”

  How can it not be my fault? I went to Drew’s. I even dressed up for him. I wanted something to happen between us. Of course, it’s my fault.

  “Emily, you’ve been drugged.”

  I almost lurch out of Mrs. Worsley’s arms.

  “What do you mean I’ve been drugged?”

  “Your eyes are dilated. Your words are slurred. Your face is flushed. You have been given some kind of date rape drug.”

  Drew? Could Drew really have done this me?

  My mind races through the events of the evening.

  Drew was at my house. He used my emerald to take me back to his house. Then I returned back to my house. Michael and Jamie visited me. Then I returned back to Drew’s.

  “Drew was at my house earlier in the evening,” I say. “He said he had something important to tell me. I remember him handing me a can of soda. Could he have put something in my drink?”

  Mrs. Worsley’s eyes are kind and understanding.

  “Afterwards, Michael and Jamie visited me. When they left, I began to feel strange. It was as though something inside me was pushing me to be with Drew. I ended up going to Drew’s house even though I didn’t want to go.”

  “Emily, there are various kinds of date rape drugs and they can affect individuals in different ways. They don’t all act instantly. In your case, it sounds like you had a delayed reaction. Once the drug took affect, it clouded your thinking. What happened isn’t your fault.”

  I wonder if it was more than a drug. Had the Zelareans taught Drew how to get into my head?

  Something has broken inside me. One of my friends has violated my innocence and my trust.

  I don’t know if I can ever find the courage to face the world again.

  - 45 -

  UNDERSTANDING

  After Michael’s mother embraces me for the longest time, until I have no more tears, she helps to clean my cuts and bruises.

  She places a suture across my lip to stop the bleeding. She tenderly washes my face until I no longer have any traces of makeup or blood remaining.

  During the complete time, she never asked any more questions; she never said a word. Her eyes and her touch tell me that she understands what I’m feeling.

  There’s no blame.

  For this, I want to hug her more.

  When I finally look human again, except for a puffy face that is now taking on different hues of purple and blue, Mrs. Worsley says, “I’m going to get you some water. As well, would it be okay for me to call your mother?”

  I nod.

  Mrs. Worsley leaves the bathroom, but closes the door behind her.

  I wonder if Michael is still in the hallway. Has he heard any of our conversation?

  What am I going to say to my mother? If I tell her the truth, she’ll kill Drew. I know she doesn’t particularly like him. Will she call the police?

  I don’t want to talk about what happened anymore. I want tonight to go away.

  When Michael’s mother
returns with a drink of water for me, she also brings me a light blue cardigan that I quickly wrap around myself. The cardigan warms me. It makes me feel less naked. It also prevents me from looking at my bloody white top.

  All the times that I have wondered if it was Michael’s parents who were watching over us are now confirmed. I can see it in his mother’s eyes. I can feel it in her touch.

  Unexpectedly my tears begin to flow again. What has happened to my life? Where has my childhood gone? Why did I ever touch my mother’s emerald?

  Suddenly, the doorbell rings.

  I know it’s my mother.

  I can’t move. My legs feel like they’re paralysed.

  “I’ll get it,” Mrs. Worsley says.

  I look into the mirror.

  I’m a wreck.

  The front door opens.

  “Where is she?” my mother says.

  There are rushed footsteps in the hallway.

  My mother’s face pales as she enters the bathroom.

  She hugs me like she has never hugged me before.

  - 46 -

  BREAK-IN

  The moment my mother and I arrive back at our house, I know something is wrong. Our front door is wide open.

  Completely shocking me, my mother pulls a gun from the glove box of her car.

  I follow her to the house. Neither of us speaks a word.

  Stepping timidly into our house, it’s immediately apparent that someone has broken in. Every step we take brings a frightening picture of rooms that have been vandalized.

  Our couches and chairs are slashed with the stuffing ripped out of them.

  “It was Drew,” I say with growing anger.

  “What do you mean? What would Drew be looking for?”

  The pain of the evening surges through me once again.

  “For some strange reason, Drew is suddenly obsessed with my emerald. When I went to his house tonight, I hid my emerald under my dresser.”

  “You took your emerald off?” my mother exclaims as she runs to my bedroom, her gun waving in front of her.

  If Drew happens to be there, he’s as good as dead.

  I hobble after my mother, pain shooting from my leg throughout my body.

  My bedroom is a disaster. My mattress is shredded. My clothes are scattered everywhere. My dresser drawers have been ripped apart.