About That Night

by Natalie Ward

  She returns the smile. “That depends,” she says coyly.

  “On what?” I ask, grinning.

  She leans forward on her barstool, giving me a better view of her cleavage. It’s not hard to miss with how low cut her top is, but I take advantage anyway. “On whether you’d be interested in coming with me,” she says, eyes on mine.

  I chuckle. “Not really a club kinda guy,” I tell her.

  She offers up a small pout, as though that’s somehow going to convince me. It won’t, but I am prepared to make her a counteroffer that might be equally appealing.

  “You could always come back to my place?” I say casually, as though it’s no big deal. And it isn’t. Because like I said, I’m not looking for a girlfriend here.

  “Is it far?” she asks as the pout is replaced with a smile.

  I grin. “Not at all.”

  “Okay,” she says, her smile widening.

  I grin back at her, just as I notice Zach walk out of the kitchen and help himself to a beer. “Shit, just give me a sec, will you?” I ask, already turning away.

  I walk down the bar towards him, watch as he twists the cap off his beer, throwing it towards the bucket. It misses, bouncing off the rim and landing on the floor, but Zach makes no effort to pick it up, instead leaning back and drinking.

  “Consider this your last shift,” I say, moving so I’m standing in front of him.

  Zach’s eyes widen, even as the bottle is still at his mouth. “What the fuck?” he asks, lowering it.

  “You’re done, Zach,” I tell him. “Get your things and go.”

  “What the fuck did I do?” he asks, finishing his beer. He goes to grab another, but I jam my foot against the fridge door, stopping him.

  “Are you seriously asking me that?”

  He rolls his eyes, slamming the empty beer bottle on the back counter. “Ah, yeah,” he says sarcastically.

  I shake my head. “Well for one thing, you haven’t been on time for a single shift since you started working here.”

  “Bullshit,” he immediately says, straightening.

  I shake my head again. “No, you haven’t. But what’s worse is your attitude. This chip on your shoulder as though the world owes you everything or something,” I add. “It doesn’t owe you shit and neither do we.”

  “Fuck you,” he spits out, stepping towards me. “You’re an arsehole.”

  “I don’t give a shit what you think about me,” I continue, gritting my teeth as I face off against him. “But you will apologise to Amy.”

  “For what?” he asks incredulously.

  I roll my eyes, at both his stupidity and his ignorance. “Because you work for her,” I tell him. “And you’ve done nothing but be a pain in the arse since you started. You’re late, your work ethic sucks and you have no respect for her.” I pause, waiting to see if he has anything to say. When he doesn’t, I continue. “An apology is the very least you could do.”

  Zach shakes his head, picking up the now empty beer bottle and hurling it into the sink against the back counter of the bar. It smashes, the noise loud even with the music and the chatter of the last remaining customers.

  “I don’t owe either of you shit,” he says. “And you’re gonna regret this, I promise you,” he adds before walking off.

  “Fucking hell,” I mutter, shaking my head as I watch Zach walk back into the kitchen. A small part of me hopes he is going in there to apologise to Amy, but the bigger part of me knows he’s probably just gone in there to get his things and leave.

  I give him ten minutes, hoping that I’ll be proven wrong, but when I finally walk out there, I can see Amy, scrubbing down the stove and no sign of Zach.

  “He’s gone,” she says, as she glances over her shoulder.

  “Fuck,” I murmur. “I’m guessing he just walked out?”

  Amy offers a half laugh. “Well, there were a lot of swear words said, but yeah, pretty much.”

  “An apology?” I ask.

  “Pfft,” she says, straightening. She blows a strand of hair from her face, the curl immediately falling back. “As if.”

  “I’m sorry, Aims,” I say, stepping closer. “I’ll help you with close up tonight.”

  Amy snorts. “Don’t be stupid,” she says. “It’s my turn, I’ll do it. Besides,” she adds, grinning, “looks like you might have other plans for tonight.”

  I watch as her eyes flick in the direction of the main room, the small window from the kitchen giving me a glimpse of the woman who’s spent all night sitting at my bar, flirting with me. The same woman I’m about to take upstairs to my bed.

  “Like she’s important,” I say.

  “Nick,” Amy says, stepping towards me now. “It’s all good, really. Go, have some fun with her. And hey, you never know, maybe this one might actually mean something.”

  I laugh now, even as I shake my head. “No chance of that,” I tell her.

  Amy grins. “We’ll see,” she says. “One day it will happen. One day, a woman will walk into this bar and you won’t be able to say no to her.”

  I shake my head, even as I lean in and give her a quick hug. I’m happy to let my sister continue thinking that one night I’ll miraculously find the woman of my dreams when she walks into our bar. I know better than to correct her, know better than to say that it’s never going to happen.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  Amy nods. “Yeah, you will. Love you.”

  “Love you too, Aims,” I say, before turning and walking out.

  My phone sounds out, the combination of it vibrating on the side table and the loud ring startling us both. She freezes above me as I reach over to silence it.

  “Just ignore it,” I tell her, my hands on her hips as if to encourage her to continue what she was doing before the interruption.

  “Scared the shit out of me,” she says, hands on my chest.

  I grin. “Me too.”

  She smiles back as she starts to move again, but almost immediately my phone starts up again, the vibrations sending it off the edge of the table where it lands with a thud on the wooden floor.

  It continues to ring, the noisy vibration making it difficult to enjoy what’s going on above me. Finally it stops, only to immediately start up again. At the same time, I hear a loud pounding on my front door. Whoever it is has managed to unlock the door at the bottom of the stairs, meaning it can only be my sister, my parents or Tony.

  I’m not sure which option freaks me out more.

  “Sounds like someone’s trying to get hold of you,” she says as she stops and glances back at the living room as though she expects them to walk in.

  “It’s cool,” I say, fingers digging into her skin. “They’ll give up soon.”

  “Nick?!” Tony’s voice echoes through the apartment, only slightly muffled by the distance and the front door.

  “You sure about that?”

  The pounding sounds up again, as my phone once more starts vibrating and Tony yells, “Nick, open the fucking door.”

  “Fuck,” I grumble, sitting up as I ease her off me. I pull on some track pants as I grab my phone from the floor, silencing the third missed call from Tony. “Wait here,” I say, walking out of the bedroom and through my apartment.

  I yank open the front door. “What the fuck is going on?” I ask, moving back a little as I narrowly avoid getting punched in the face as Tony resumes his pounding.

  “What the fuck took you so long?” he spits out.

  I shrug, waving a hand in the air as if to say what do you think?

  Tony rolls his eyes at me. “You need to come downstairs,” he says. “Right now.”

  I exhale; not quite understanding what this is all about. “What the fuck is going on Tony?” I ask. From the corner of my eye I see the woman who seconds ago was naked and astride my hips, now dressed and walking into my living room. There’s a look of embarrassment on her face, as though we’re a couple of teenagers who have been caught out by their parents.
r />   “I think I should go,” she murmurs, clutching her shoes and bag.

  I hold out a hand to stop her as Tony says, “That would be a good idea.”

  I shoot him a what the fuck look, but instead of apologising, he gets right in my face and says “You need to get dressed and get downstairs now. It’s Amy,” he adds as though sensing my confusion. “Something really bad has happened.”

  Instantly all of the blood in my veins turns to ice, my heart stopping as though it too has been frozen in my chest at his words. Without saying anything more, I immediately turn and run back to my room, pulling on the first clothes I can find.

  It takes only seconds but by the time I’m back at the front door, the woman has gone and Tony is standing there, a grim expression on his face, almost as though now he’s told me, he wishes he could take it all back.

  And when we get downstairs and I see Amy, bloodied, bruised and bundled up in a blanket on the couch in my office, I realise why.

  This isn’t just really bad.

  This is totally fucked up.

  “We need to get her to the hospital,” Tony says as I immediately sit down and pull Amy into my arms. She flinches at my touch, her whole body cowering as she sinks further into the blanket.

  “Nick,” he says, his voice hard.

  I glance up, nod once as I say, “Call an ambulance.”

  Tony shakes his head. “My car’s out the back, let’s go.”

  I briefly consider arguing with him, but as Amy starts to shake, silent tears streaming down her face, I know he’s right. So standing, I gently bend down and scoop her into my arms. As I do, the blanket falls partly away and that’s when I register exactly what’s happened.

  The torn clothing.

  The exposed skin.

  The cuts and scrapes and bruises everywhere.

  There’s blood on her thighs and when my eyes find it, the knowledge of what’s been done to her hits me so hard I almost drop her.

  “Nick,” Tony repeats, covering her back up. I look at him, seen my own terror reflected back in his face. “We need to go,” he says. “We need to take care of her.”

  I nod, following him out to the car, where I slide into the backseat, still cradling Amy in my arms. Neither of us speaks as we drive the short distance to the hospital, but I hear Tony on his phone, talking to what I quickly figure out must be my parents.

  A part of me is relived that he’s taking care of this, that I don’t have to explain what’s happened or where we are going. But the other part of me is scared shitless. Scared about what’s going to happen when they find out.

  Tony pulls into the emergency entrance, slamming on the breaks. My arms tighten around Amy as we slide forward and she winces as though in pain.

  “Sorry,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her head.

  Inside, Tony does all the talking while I stand there, Amy in my arms. I can feel the eyes of the waiting area on me, the judgment of the nurses as their glances flick between Tony and us.

  Before I know it, a trolley is wheeled out and Amy is all but pulled from my arms as a female nurse gently eases her onto it. She moans as though in pain and I start to follow them but am immediately told to wait. My mouth opens in protest but any words I might have are silenced by Tony’s hand on my arm, the firm, “Nick,” that follows.

  By the time the nurse and what I assume is a doctor comes back, my parents have arrived. They’ve thrown a million questions at me, none of which I can answer. Instead I’ve stood silently by, watching as Tony recounted the events of what happened.

  How he’d driven to the bank to drop the money in the all-night safe while Amy locked up. He’d planned to go back and help her, especially as Zach had walked out. He’d only been gone for maybe fifteen minutes but how somehow, during that time, Amy had been attacked. She’d been lying on the kitchen floor when he’d come back. Her clothing torn and blood all over the place. All over her.

  There were smashed plates everywhere, a knife lying beside her as though she’d fought against whoever it was that had done this.

  Tony had immediately grabbed the blanket from the couch in my office, bundling Amy up before taking her back there and then gone to look for me.

  “Where were you?” my mum had asked, the pain in her eyes almost too much.

  I couldn’t answer, instead, shaking my head as I’d all but crumpled to the floor in agony. I had no idea what answer Tony had given them, but the next thing I knew, the doctor was standing in front of us.

  I force myself to stand and meet her stare. She looks worn out and exhausted, not offering a smile as she looks at each of us in the eye before saying, “We should talk in private.”

  My dad nods, my mum letting out a sob as he slides an arm around her shoulders, pulls her close and they both follow the doctor. I can’t move, my feet rooted to the floor because I know as soon as I do, as soon as I follow them to wherever the doctor is leading us, everything is going to get so much worse.

  “Nick,” Tony says, glancing back.

  I shake my head. “I can’t,” I whisper.

  Tony walks back towards me, grabbing my arm and squeezing. I have no idea how he can be so calm and sane right now, when everything inside me is practically screaming to be let out. To find whoever it was that did this to her and fucking kill them for it.

  “You have to,” he says. “For her.”

  I swallow hard, forcing the razor blades that seem to have lodged inside my throat down into my chest where they immediately take up residence inside my heart.

  “Come on,” he says, pulling on my arm until I start to follow him. My legs feel like lead as they lead me to what I know is going to be hell. I have to remind myself that whatever this is though, it’s nothing compared to what Amy must be going through.

  When we’re all finally inside a small room, the doctor and some other lady who has joined us, both turn and face us.

  “There’s no easy way to say this,” the doctor says as it occurs to me that we don’t even know her name. How can she possibly say any of this without telling us her name?

  Mum sobs once, as Dad pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her. I turn to Tony, whose face is buried in his hands as he sinks into a chair.

  “What?” I ask, turning back to the stranger.

  “Amy,” she says again, stepping a fraction closer as though she senses my fear. “She’s been raped.”

  Back To This Night…

  ~ Emma

  Neither Adrian nor I interrupt Nick as he recounts the events from the night of Amy’s rape. Watching him though, the way he struggles to get the words out as silent tears stream down his cheeks, is almost unbearable. I’ve never seen him in this much pain before, never felt the anguish that pours off him as he tells his story. And it’s only as he does, that I realise the full extent of what he’s been through, what he’s still going through now.

  This is so much more than just grief and guilt. This is trauma.

  Blunt force trauma.

  When he’s finally finished he stands, pushes both hands through his hair and walks towards the full-length window on the far side of the office. He stops in front of it, stares out at the street below and even though his back is to us, I can see that this has been one of the most difficult things he’s ever had to do.

  “You okay?” Adrian says quietly as he hands me the box of tissues.

  I turn to him; see the concern on his face as I shake my head and realise I’m also crying.

  He nods, as though he understands. “First time hearing this?”

  I nod, not knowing what to say or why he’s so concerned about me when it’s Nick who’s the one struggling here.

  “Why don’t I give you both a minute,” he continues, gesturing towards Nick as though telling me what I need to do.

  I swallow, only managing another nod as Adrian gets up and quietly walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. I turn back to Nick, who’s still staring out the window, hands clasped behind his head. H
is body is tense, even though I’d expected him to be crumpling to the floor in exhaustion by now.

  Taking a deep breath, I force myself to stand and walk over to him. I gently place a hand on his back and feel him stiffen beneath me before he releases a long breath. I step closer and slide my arms around his waist and press against him, resting my cheek between his shoulder blades.

  Even like this, I can still feel the pounding of his heart, the deep breaths he continues to take, as though he’s trying to calm himself down. I say nothing in response; just hold him against me and hope that he understands.

  Eventually he lowers his hands, scrubbing them down his face before turning in my arms so he’s facing me. I offer him a smile, which isn’t returned, before he pulls me against him, crushing me against his chest in a tight hug.

  His heart crashes against my cheek now, pounding in a rhythm that’s too fast to even count.

  I have no idea what to say to him, what words I can possibly offer that will be of any comfort right now. I’m not sure I ever fully realised the extent of his grief, at the huge amount of blame he places on himself for everything that happened that night, or the guilt he still carries for it all to this day.

  “Nick?” Adrian asks and both of us pull back, surprised because we didn’t realise he was in the room again.

  Nick looks at him but says nothing.

  “You okay?” he asks, which seems like a ridiculous question given everything Nick’s just told him. Nick shakes his head and Adrian nods in response. “I know it’s going to seem like telling me all of that has made everything worse,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “But I promise you it hasn’t. Giving voice to these feelings, these fears and this blame, actually lessens their impact. It removes the power they have over you until one day, when you’ve said them many times, they will no longer seem as terrifying.”

  Nick and I both sit down, my hand in his as he struggles to stay calm beside me.

  Adrian watches both of us, saying nothing for a moment before continuing. “It’s only when we bury our pain and our grief that it continues to haunt us and hold us in its grip.”