by E. K. Blair
“I said clothes off!”
“I-I . . .”
Pike looks at me, and I start to shake my head quickly, not wanting this to happen, and he gives me an urging eye.
“What the fuck is going on?” Carl yells as he stands in front of me.
I’m scared as hell when I open my mouth and stammer, “P-please, I . . . I started my period.”
The hungry grin that grows on his face is sickening. He takes a few steps back, and then asks, “You’re bleeding?”
I give him a nod.
“Okay then,” he says as he sits down on the chair. “Take off your clothes and lay on the bed.”
“What?” I breathe out.
“Don’t worry, Pike’s gonna fuck you in the ass.”
“What?!” Pike’s voice is that of shock, and I begin to panic.
My hands turn jittery and I start apologizing, “No. I’m s-sorry. It’s fine, we can have sex.”
“I like my idea better, now take off your fucking clothes and get on your hands and knees.”
“What the fuck? I can’t do that,” Pike says as I start removing my clothes.
It’s as if my blood is running dry because all I feel is cold ice running through me. I swallow hard, and then terror floods through when Carl lurches out of the chair and grabs Pike by the neck, seething, “The way you shits are trying to defy me right now is pissing me the fuck off.”
Pike grunts loudly when Carl’s fist hammers into his jaw, nearly knocking him over.
“Do what I fucking tell you or she’s gonna get locked in the closet for the rest of the week after I beat the shit out of both of you!”
My legs are jelly, barely able to support me on my knees as I prop myself up on my hands. Suddenly, I forget how to go numb, and my body begins to quiver as I start crying, scared of what’s about to happen.
I let my head hang down as I feel Pike behind me. Nothing happens though. All I can hear is his heavy breathing. I stay in this position for a while longer and eventually turn my head to see Pike stroking his penis with an almost pained look on his face. He then lets go of himself and puffs out a heavy breath, saying, “I can’t do this. I can’t even get hard.”
Sitting back on my heels, I feel relieved, but that feeling is immediately snatched away, and sheer horror invades when Carl growls angrily. He knocks over his chair when he stands, metal clanking against the concrete, and suddenly the flow of life stops.
Slow motion.
Carl walks straight towards me, yanking his belt out from the loops of his pants. My heart goes frigid, pounding in solid hard beats that vibrate through my whole body. Pounding so hard I can hear it. His eyes are filled with a murderous glare, and Pike’s screams penetrate me as he charges Carl and slams his fist into the side of his face.
I can’t breathe, but somehow I’m screaming when Carl turns and knocks Pike straight to the ground with one single punch, followed by ruthless kicks to his side. Pike writhes in agony as he heaves, “Don’t you fuckin’ touch her!” over and over and over until his voice is no longer audible and his eyes glaze over.
When Carl looks back at me, he unzips his pants and adrenaline kicks in. I’m on my feet fast, bolting to the stairs. After a couple steps, I’m brought to my knees as a piercing sting slices through my back.
THWACK!
A shrill wail rips out of me, and I look over my shoulder just in time to see the leather belt he’s holding come flying down at me.
THWACK!
Arching my back in pure agony, I scream out as tears spring from my eyes. The leather belt bites my flesh again and again before he forces me on all fours, pushes my face down to the cold cement, and rapes me from behind.
AFTER CARL’S ATTACK, Pike doesn’t come into my room for a while. All I want to do is die, just put myself out of this misery. I don’t even know how to understand what just happened down there. It all came so fast, and I’ve never experienced that much pain in my life. The pain in my back seemed to disappear when he started raping the one part of my body I never expected.
And now, I lay on my stomach with my face buried into my pillow as I try to muffle my sobs. My top is still off because of the stinging of my back. I’m too scared to look at it to see what he’s done to me.
“Oh my God,” I faintly hear through my cries, and when I lift my head, I see Pike looking down at me. He’s horrified, but I don’t ask why because I’m so humiliated.
He kneels beside my bed with a painful groan and lays his hand on my arm, stroking it with his trembling thumb. The side of his face is swollen and badly bruised.
“Tell me what I can do.” His voice is worried and his eyes are nothing but a display of his pity.
I can’t even think about speaking as my tears soak into my pillow.
He takes my hand, folds his fingers through mine, and holds it tightly, and the touch alone makes me cry harder.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he says with his eyes welled with tears.
My hand is clenched around his and I don’t let go for a long time. Eventually, Pike kisses my knuckles, and moves to stand.
“I’ll be right back,” he says and then goes into the bathroom. When he returns, he’s holding a wet towel. “I don’t want to hurt you, but your back is covered in dried blood. Just lay still, okay?”
I nod as he gently lays the warm, wet towel on my back. My muscles cinch up, and I whimper as my flesh stings. He presses his hand down on the towel, and I cry out, “Oww.”
“I’m sorry.”
“W-what does it look like?” I ask, but also scared to know.
“You have a couple nasty gashes and a lot of welts.”
“It hurts.”
He sighs and holds my hand as he carefully starts cleaning the blood off my back.
“One day, I promise you, that fucker is gonna pay for this,” he grits out and all I can do is nod my head as I start thinking about what it would feel like to kill him.
How sick am I? A twelve-year-old girl fantasizing about killing someone.
What’s happening to me?
A FEW WEEKS have passed and school has started back up. Carl hasn’t touched me since that day, but it was only three days later when I was back in the basement, forced into giving Pike a blowjob. Afterwards, I was tied up in the closet and left there for another two days.
Pike and I now sit out on the curb in front of the house. Bobbi is inside watching TV and Carl is still at work. Summer is coming to an end and the smell of autumn is in the air. You know that smell, the smell of death. I don’t know why, but I love it. Leaves falling to their grave on the chilled, damp streets, eventually to be covered in ice and snow when winter hits.
I listen to Pike as he rambles on about some girl who’s an upper classman at his school that keeps following him around. It doesn’t surprise me. I’ve always thought Pike was cute, and now that he’s almost sixteen, he’s even cuter, not that I have a crush on him or anything; it’s just a fact. But nobody knows how pathetic the two of us are. Sometimes I get curious as to how someone would react if they knew. I mean, could you imagine that girl asking Pike to tell her something about himself, and his response was, I’m almost sixteen, and, oh yeah, I have sex with my twelve-year-old sister. Yeah, people would definitely think we’re sick.
“Isn’t that your caseworker’s car?” Pike questions, and when I turn to look down the street, sure enough, it’s Lucia’s car.
“What’s she doing here?” I can’t stand my caseworker. She only stops by to check in on me a few times a year, so the fact that she was just here a month ago makes me a little anxious.
She pulls her car along the curb as Pike and I stand.
“What are you two doing out here?” she asks, and Pike tells her in a shit-mocking tone, “Oh, you know, just enjoying the lush scenery of this picture-perfect neighborhood that you thought would provide a nice backdrop for a wholesome upbringing.”
Lucia sends Pike a glare before saying, “You mind giving Elizabeth and I a mom
ent to speak?”
“I’ll be in my room,” he tells me as he heads inside the house, leaving Lucia and me standing on the front lawn.
“Why don’t we have a seat?” she suggests, and we walk over to the front porch steps.
“What are you doing here?”
“I got some news that I needed to come talk to you about.”
“Am I being moved?” I ask, nervous of her response because I can’t live without Pike. The thought alone pricks my eyes with tears.
“No. It’s about your dad,” she says.
Pulling on that one tiny piece of hope in my heart that I’ve been able to hang on to, I ask, “Is he getting out early? Will I be able to see him?”
She shakes her head, and when I see her face drop, she takes that hope right along with it, saying, “I’m sorry. Your father’s dead.”
And that’s the moment when you realize that hopes and dreams are as fucked up as the fairytales.
I drop my head and watch my tears drop like heavy weights to the dirty concrete below my feet. They spread and seep into the porous ground where I’m sure they’ll find their home in hell. But they won’t be alone for long because my heart feels unbearably heavy too, like it could drop right out of me at any moment.
I wanna scream. I wanna kick and hit something. I wanna stomp my feet like a toddler and throw the most soul-ripping tantrum a girl my age could, yelling at the world and to anyone who’ll listen how I hate all of them. I want to scream so hard that blood comes out. I wanna do it all, but I don’t. It’s a war inside me, but I hide it well. What’s the point of exposing it? It’s not like it’s going to make a difference. No one is coming to rescue me. So instead, I sit on these steps and quietly cry.
I have a million questions swarming, finally asking, “How?”
“It seems there was a fight that broke out with some of the inmates and your father was stabbed. The place went on lockdown and by the time the guards were able to get to him, it was too late.”
“Why? I mean, I-I . . .” I can barely speak as the sobs start breaking through my façade, causing my body to wrack in heaving tremors. “Are you sure it was him? I mean, what if they made a mistake?”
“There’s no mistake, Elizabeth,” she says softly. “I’m so sorry.”
“But I don’t have any other family. I mean, w-what happens n-now?”
“Nothing changes.”
Glaring over at her, I say, “Everything changes.” I turn my head back down and begin crying, covering my eyes with my hands. The instinct to run is fierce, but I have nowhere to go, and that pisses me off. I don’t wanna be stuck here. I don’t want this life. All I want is my dad. So with that, I stand and spit my words at my worthless caseworker, “I fucking hate you! I hate everything about you! You don’t give a shit about me or my dad! You’re just a stupid bitch!” I go inside the house, slamming the door as hard as I can behind me and run upstairs. But I don’t go to my room; I go to Pike’s. I’m loud, bawling like a baby when I walk in. He immediately pops off the bed and is in front of me in a second, asking, “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Falling into his chest, he bands his arms tightly around me while I release the most wretched sobs of my life. I fist his shirt in my hands so tightly it feels as if I could break my own fingers, but I like the pain. I need the pain. I need something—anything—to distract me from the most unbearable pain of all.
It can’t be real.
He can’t really be dead.
He just can’t be.
“Elizabeth,” Pike says, and I feel like I’m gonna throw up the emptiness that fills me because if he’s gone, I’m gone.
I don’t even realize we’ve walked across the room until I open my eyes and we’re lying down.
“What did she say?” he asks.
“I hate her, Pike. I hate everyone,” I choke out around the pain.
“Tell me.”
My words hurt as they come out, “M-my dad. She said he’s dead, Pike. That someone stabbed him, and he died.” Saying the words cuts deep, and the hold that Pike has on me suddenly becomes a thousand times stronger.
“Shit,” he murmurs under his breath before I cry, “It isn’t true. It can’t be.”
Hearing it from Lucia, I felt numb, but now, with Pike—my safety—the emotions overpower me. I’m drowning and I can’t breathe. All I can do is scream and cry, and so I do, just like a helpless baby, never letting go of my grip on Pike’s shirt. It’s as if his shirt is my lifeline, and if I let go, I’ll free-fall into nothingness.
And now I lie here, crumbling into a million pieces. I’ll never be whole again. I’ll never forgive the world for this.
I want my dad.
Now.
I want the rough whiskers of his face scratching me when he gives kisses, I want his smooth voice singing to me again, I want his touch, his hold, his love, his healing, his smile, stories, tickles, laughs, eyes, hands, smell—everything. I wanna be saved.
I want my prince.
Pike tucks me under his chin, kissing the top of my head every now and then. Eventually the noise in the room begins to fade as I tire and quiet down. My body feels so heavy and my head pounds, making it hurt to open my eyes. Pike continuously runs his hand up and down my back in an attempt to soothe me, but nothing can dull this agony.
Into the quiet room, I whisper, “Do you ever think about dying?”
“Sometimes,” he responds softly.
“Does it scare you?”
“No. You?”
“Not anymore,” I tell him, and then ask, “Do you think my dad was scared?”
“No,” he says without any hesitation.
“How do you know?”
“Because, if he’s dead, then he’ll always get to be with you. Knowing he’d finally get to see you again, I doubt he was scared.”
His words bring on a slew of silent tears that soak into his shirt. “It’s not fair, Pike.”
“No, it’s not. You deserve everything that’s good in this world, and I swear to you that I will fight to give you that. One day, when we’re out of this mess, I’ll find a way to make you happy.”
“I don’t believe in happiness,” I weep. “I don’t believe in anything anymore.”
He brushes my hair back and scoots down to look me in the eyes. “Believe in me.”
His dark eyes are stern, and I realize, that in this moment, he’s my only chance at survival. Pike has always done his best to protect me; he’s always cared about me. From the first day I got here, he’s been my brother. It was instant. And now, I have no other choice but to believe in everything he says because he’s my only constant.
When he leans in and kisses my forehead, I don’t even think when I nuzzle in and kiss his neck. He keeps his lips on my forehead and doesn’t move, but his hands find my cheeks as he holds me close. Before I know it, his lips are on mine in an unmoving kiss. I grip on to his wrists, and in a blur, in an unnoticeable moment, our mouths move together.
I’ve never kissed Pike before—never even thought about it—but somehow, this feels right. He’s the first boy I’ve ever kissed. We’ve been having sex for two years, so you wouldn’t think kissing him would feel like anything at all, but it does. Out of nowhere, he’s taken my mind away from everything bad as I focus on only him. It’s like I can finally breathe.
Rolling on top of me, he reaches back to take his shirt off, and I sit up to remove mine as well. When we’re stripped down to nothing, he pulls the sheets over us, and I’m tucked in warm with him. Everything about this feels different than the hundreds of times we’ve done this before. It’s always cold and dirty, with Carl watching us the whole time.
“Don’t go there,” Pike says, knocking me from my thoughts.
“Where?”
“Don’t think about him. He has nothing to do with this. We’re not on that mattress down there; we’re here in my bed. You’re safe.”
“Just us?” I ask.
“Just us,” he says as he p
ushes himself inside of me, and for the first time, I find the magic that I gave up believing in. It turns out Pike had it all along, because in this moment, I don’t feel any more pain or hurt.
It’s just us, and I’m safe.
MY TEETH CHATTER as I walk home from school. I wound up getting in trouble for fighting a girl who was making fun of me today, landing me in afterschool suspension for the next two weeks. Pike has been working more and more, so we haven’t been walking home together much lately, and he refuses to let me tag along with him. He says he doesn’t want me getting mixed up with his friends, but he always makes sure he’s home before Carl gets there so I won’t be alone with him.
Life hasn’t changed that much. I’m fourteen—a little taller, filling out more, my hair has grown a few more waves than it used to have, and I have more scars on my wrists. It looks like I’ve been trying to slit them, but six years of being belted up in a tiny closet will do that to you. I hide them well though, wearing long sleeves that fall past my wrists that I often tug further down.
Since learning about my dad’s death two years ago, I’ve grown pretty numb to everything around me. I feel like a living, breathing machine most of the time. I’m able to turn myself off and on pretty easily. For the most part, I’m in off mode, frozen and void. I only allow Pike to see me on. He’s my only release, the only one I show my true self to. Since that afternoon, the afternoon I learned that I would never see my father again, Pike and I have continued to sleep together, privately, in his bed. I’ve found myself becoming selfish with him, using him to take away all the bad. It’s so hard to explain, but when I’m with him like that, I feel like I’m washed clean. Once I realized what I was doing, I was honest and told him. The guilt was overpowering me, and when I explained my feelings to him, I thought he’d be mad, but he wasn’t. He told me to take whatever I needed to take from him. I still feel the guilt though. The shame of using him so selfishly eats at me after we’re done and I grow quiet, often crying. Pike soothes me as best as he can, holding me, assuring me that it’s okay—that everything’s okay.
