CORAL (A Romance Trilogy, Book 1)

by Delaney, Clair

  “When I have nightmares about it, it’s the ripping and the pounding into me that I remember, it makes my pelvic muscles go into spasm, he just didn’t stop. It felt like it went on and on, I thought it was never going to end, he threatened to kill me, and in all honesty I wanted him to, I wanted it to be over.” George gasps again and squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t know how long it went on for, but in the end I passed out in pain.” I stare blankly ahead, amazed I managed to get it all out, and I’m surprised at myself, I thought I would be upset, crying even, but I just feel numb; like I’m listening to someone else tell the story, totally void of myself.

  I turn and stare at George, he looks like he’s going to be sick and he’s so pale. “George?” I prompt.

  “That was very brave of you Coral, well done for being honest and telling what me happened. How do you feel now you’ve told me?”

  “Numb,” I answer my voice sounding void of all emotion.

  “That’s understandable,” he says.

  I laugh sarcastically, then out of nowhere, the numbness disappears, and I feel overwhelmed with fear, I feel it shake and rattle my body. I guess reliving it again, saying it out loud; unwelcome and unbidden tears start to cascade down my cheeks.

  “Coral!” George gasps and wraps his arms around me. I finally crack, the levees bursting on me, and I crumble into his arms. I wrap my arms around his waist, and sink my head into his chest. He gently rocks me, trying to soothe me with gentle words. “You’re safe now,” he whispers. “Nothing can happen to you.” I hear his words of comfort, but they make no difference. I cannot stop the tears. I cry long cathartic sobs, soaking his shirt. I take in a ragged breath, trying to calm myself down, and it’s in that moment that I realise a shocking, unwelcome truth.

  I want Tristan; right here, right now. I want his strong arms around me, his scent invading my senses, his lips pressed hard against my forehead, his proximity even; that would be enough. I mean, George is wonderful and sweet, and is trying his best to comfort me, but he can’t make me feel safe, he can’t protect me, he can’t…he can’t…finally it hits me, what I’ve been denying to myself; he can’t love me like Tristan can.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out this revelation. I sit up from my slumped position and try to catch my breath. “I’m sorry,” I choke, looking down at George’s shirt; it’s covered in black mascara.

  “No need,” he soothes. “Would you like another?” he asks gesturing to my empty glass.

  I look up at the clock on the wall, my hour is up. “The time George, I don’t want to keep you,” I sniff.

  “Nonsense,” he barks. “Would you like to use the bathroom?”

  “Please,” I croak.

  George helps me to my feet, my legs feel all shaky. “It’s the adrenaline,” he explains. “Let me help you.” George guides me to his downstairs bathroom, once inside he tells me to take my time and shuts the door behind him.

  I grab a load of toilet tissue, and blow my nose several times, throwing the paper into the toilet, I press the flush. In a daze I turn to the sink so I can wash my face - Jesus, what a mess! I have mascara streaks running down my cheeks, my eyes are really swollen, and my nose is bright red – Great! I fill the sink with cold water and plunge my face in. It shocks me for a second but I stay under holding my breath, after a minute I pull back up. I stare back at my reflection, water dripping down from all over my face. Surprisingly, I feel better than I thought I would, just saying it out loud feels as though a small weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

  I start laughing at myself, my eyes looks like a pandas, and I have black mascara streaks running down each cheek; I look like something out of a horror movie. I notice there’s a hand-wash on the sink so I squirt some onto my hands, and wash away the mascara, refreshing my face again with more cold water. I can’t believe how much better I feel - I shake my head at myself - Should have done this ages ago!

  I dry my face and stare at my reflection, wondering if the tears are going to come back, but surprisingly they don’t. I make myself smile trying to perk myself back up, then chuckle at myself – You idiot!

  Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders and head back to George’s office.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I WALK BACK INTO GEORGE’S office and sit on the sofa next to him. He smiles softly at me and hands me another Brandy. “Thanks.” I take another sip.

  “I wish you would have told me Coral.” He softly scolds.

  “I know, I was just thinking the same. I actually feel better for telling you.”

  “A problem shared…” George cocks an eyebrow up at me in disapproval, he’s not happy with me.

  “I’m sorry. It wasn’t something that was easy to say and I didn’t want to...” I break off.

  “Didn’t want to what?” he asks, his head cocked to the side.

  I take another sip. “Lots of things, I didn’t want you to be mad with me for not telling anyone, or going to the police, or...” I stop for a moment. “I was scared and ashamed,” I whisper.

  “I understand,” he softly says. “But I wouldn’t have been angry with you, at all.” He admonishes.

  My head starts banging, I haven’t had much food today so the alcohol is going straight to my head - I place my glass down and pull the pins and bobble out of my hair, then run my fingers through my scalp to try and ease the tension. I let my hair fall across my shoulders and down my back.

  “Do you remember his name?” George asks.

  “Yes, but I don’t think it was his real name.”

  “How did you get out?” I shudder and take a gulp of brandy.

  “When he finished with me, he fell asleep. I think I kept drifting in and out of consciousness, the pain was…horrendous. The next time I came round I could see it was light outside, I remember him waking up, so I pretended to be asleep. I heard him go into the bathroom, he locked the door and turned the shower on; I knew it was my only opportunity to get out, I had to take it.

  “When I sat up, I realised my hands were free, I don’t remember him untying me, so I grabbed my bag, jeans and t-shirt and fled out of the room, completely naked. I ran to the stairwell, pulled on my jeans and t-shirt and ran home. My feet were so messed up by the time I got back. I don’t know why I didn’t pick up my shoes, I think they were wedges, I guess they wouldn’t have been any good for running in, I just had to get out of there. I was so scared he would catch me leaving,” I clench my fists as I recall running back to the house.

  “I bled for two days George, and I know he didn’t use protection. I was so scared that he’d given me an STD; but he hadn’t thank god.”

  “You got tested?” He questions.

  “Yes, I went to the genitourinary clinic, gave a fake name. Test results came back clear.”

  “What did you tell Gladys, you must have made some excuse up?”

  “Yes, I did and I hated lying to her…but, it was just too hard to say. I felt ashamed, embarrassed, and I think I was still in shock. I told her I’d gone for a run and I got jumped on by some drunken bum. I’d taken myself to hospital before she came back so I had a couple of stitches on my eyebrow, I was pretty messed up.

  “She almost had a heart attack when she walked through the door, she wanted me to go to the police, but I said I didn’t even know what he looked like, so she dropped it. She and Joyce took care of me that week, Gladys was still working part time then so they took it in turns. I’ll always be eternally grateful to them both for that, they’ll never know how much it meant to me.”

  “And I take it you remember his face?” I instantly know where George is going with this.

  “I’m not going to the police George. I won't have it all dragged back up.” His lips set into a hard line. He doesn’t agree with me. “Ok, say I report it and they find him, it’s my word against his, and there’s no evidence. And don’t forget, I know this industry. I know how long these things take. It will take years to go through the system, to finally get
to court, which means I’d have it hanging over me for what another two, three years. I won't do that George I won't put myself through it, I know it sounds bad, but I’d rather just work on getting better.”

  George frowns at the floor, deep in thought. “And now you know...” I stare back at him with wide eyes. “You can help me right?”

  “Of course,” George whispers and knocks back the rest of his brandy. “So that’s why you’re so nervous about Tristan?” He surmises.

  “No...well sort of.” I answer taking another sip. “I’m terrified of having sex again and it all coming back to me. It’s hard enough having the triggers that I already have, to having this on top of it as well...” I shake that thought away. “I’m scared of how strongly I feel for Tristan, but I’m even more scared of him turning away from me when he learns who I really am, what I really am. But Gladys and Joyce moving on have made me realise that unless I exorcise these demons, once and for all, then I’m going to be alone, completely alone, and that...that scares me more than anything else ever has.” It’s weird, now it’s out there, now I’ve said it out loud. I feel ready, I feel really determined, and I know I’m strong, that I can get through this. I just need some help. “So let’s get to work.” I say resolutely.

  “Well, you’ve already taken the first step towards healing,” George smiles.

  “Because I’ve told you?” I question, he nods once. “Ok, so what else can I do?” I question.

  “Well, you have several options. We can keep the sessions at twice a week, and there are several support groups for women, which I think you would find very beneficial. I have dealt with many patients in the past who have been through the same trauma, and when I’ve directed them towards these support groups, they have all said that having likeminded women around them, who have been through the same thing and are supporting each other, has greatly improved the healing process.

  “Now, having said that there have been several patients who have not gone down that line, they have chosen instead to go to the root of the problem by having sex again. It can be a way of freeing themselves of the panic, the fear. Some wait until they are in a relationship, some are brave enough to pick a guy up, gaining confidence as they do and some, well, some have used male escorts, no ties, just sex.” I gasp in horror.

  “Are you friggin kidding me? You want me to go out and have’ – “No,” he laughs. “I’m not telling you to do anything Coral. I’m just explaining to you how other women have dealt with the trauma of it.”

  “I’m not a victim,” I spit rising to my feet - I refuse to be, shit happens and you just have to deal with it the best way you can. My hands start to shake, a delayed reaction to talking about it.

  “I didn’t say you were.” George scowls.

  I sigh heavily and sit back down – Calm down Coral!

  “I’m sorry George,” I close my eyes for a second then look across at him. “Ok, so support groups? Aren’t they for women who are being abused by long term partners though?” I question.

  “Some are, others are for women who have basically had the same thing happen as you have. Would you like me to enquire for you?”

  “Yes please, I’ll try anything.” I say, George grins broadly at me. Then I remember what I thought of the other day. “You know, I was thinking about a lot of things the other day, running them over in my head, and I’m tired George, really, really, tired.”

  “What of?” He questions.

  “Everything,” I scoff. “I’m tired of being scared all the time. I’m tired of feeling vulnerable. I’m tired of my associations with men – not all men are bad, I know that. I just don’t know how to change how I feel about them, and I want the sex thing sorted so I’m not freaking out about it. But there are other things too…” I swallow hard surprised by my own candor – Where’s this all come from?

  “Go on,” George prompts.

  I sigh inwardly and continue. “I want to feel feminine; I’m tired and fed up of wearing trousers and jeans all the time. But I don’t want to go through the feelings I get when I put a skirt or dress on, it’s too...I feel too vulnerable and out of control. It’s exhausting feeling like you’re constantly in fight or flight mode. I want the choice, it was taken away from me and I want it back.” I snap.

  George still looks deep in thought. “Well, there is one other option, I hadn’t considered it before, but it may work,” he muses.

  “Whatever it is, I’ll try it.” I say.

  George starts grinning from ear to ear – What is he smiling about?

  “George!” I scold.

  “Sorry, it’s just such a pleasure seeing you so ready to try’ – George sighs – ‘Normally you don’t want to work on anything, you just want consistency. It’s wonderful to see you so enthusiastic to work on your fears rather than hide behind them.” Jeez I just want to wear a dress!

  “So what is it?” I ask with bated breath.

  “Hypnotherapy,” he says.

  I scowl at him. “Seriously?” I squeak.

  “Yes, it’s worked for many of my patients, with excellent results.” I light up inside.

  “So, you’re saying it could what; help me with sex and dresses?” I question.

  “Coral, it’s certainly something we could try, you never know.” A big smile starts to spread across my face.

  “Really?” I squeak – Now I’m excited.

  “Yes,” he chuckles.

  “Let’s go for it.” I push.

  “Alright then, I know a fantastic therapist in this field, she’s expensive though,” George tells me.

  “I’ll dig into my savings,” I say – This is going to work I have a good feeling about it.

  “Alright then,” George says with satisfaction.

  Then I panic. “Er…George?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t like the idea of a stranger having control over what they put in my head, so will you come with me, or have the sessions here?” George cocks his head to the side and raises his eyebrows.

  “I can do that Coral but you know what that sounds like?” he says. I already know the answer.

  “That I’m being a control freak,” I answer gloomily. “But you just told me one step at a time, so once I feel comfortable with the Hypnotherapists, I can go without you.” I say, feeling triumphant in my reply.

  “So I did,” he replies, smiling at me again. Then he picks up my glass and walks out the room. He returns moments later with another brandy for us both.

  “George, I’ll be wobbling home at this rate.” I say.

  “I don’t want you to be alone tonight Coral.” He says sitting next to me.

  I stare back at him in confusion. “Why not?” I chuckle.

  “Because you’ve just re-lived a trauma...for goodness sake Coral! Are you saying you’re happy to be on your own after what you’ve just revealed?” He asks rather astonished.

  I shrug and take a sip of Brandy. “George I’ve been living with this for two years, I’ll be fine,” I clarify.

  “I’ll be fine is your answer to everything,” George says sarcastically.

  “Well I will be,” I squeak taking another sip – Damn this Brandy is nice!

  George shakes his head at me. “Really Coral, in all seriousness I would rather you weren’t alone tonight, it will give me peace of mind.” I frown and take another drink. “What about staying with Rob?” He asks.

  “Can't he’s’ – I stare down at my hands wrapped around my glass – ‘he and Carlos are having some troubles,” I say feeling guilty for sharing their secrets.

  “Oh?” George cocks his head to the side.

  “Rob was acting weird when I saw him on Wednesday, and Carlos won’t answer his mobile.” I growl remembering him pushing me to voice-mail.

  “Gladys?” he asks.

  I snort with laughter. “What, and sit in all night with the love-birds?” I blurt. “No thanks, I’d rather be on my own, besides I’ll only get hounded as to why I’ve been crying.�
�� I add tersely.

  “There is that,” George agrees. “How about staying here for the night?” He says, smiling gently at me.

  “I-I can’t do that,” I stutter in amazement. “You…you’re my therapists?”

  “That I am, and as professional as I should be…well, you feel like family to me. And it’s not as if we haven’t socialised with one another. We do have mutual friends after all.” I nod in agreement, we do, and we have socialized plenty, but wouldn’t it be – well wrong?

  “That’s sweet George, I think of you as family too.” I smile tentatively.

  “Well then, that’s settled. I’ll get the spare room ready for you...Oh! And Phil is making his famous Moules Marinieres spaghetti dish’ – his eyes sparkle and he claps his hands together – ‘and he always makes too much.” I can see he really wants me to stay. “And we have a lovely crisp Frascati to go with it.” He adds cheerfully.

  “But’ – “No buts,” he says holding up his hands. “For us, Friday nights are about great food, great wine, and a good old movie; how about it?”

  “What about Phil? Maybe he wants a romantic night in?” I say, feeling a little embarrassed.

  “We have all the time in the world for romance darling.” George says wistfully.

  “I-I just don’t know…” I say feeling confused. Then I question – Do I really want to be on my own tonight, glugging more Night Nurse to chase away the horror? I’m sure it’s going to come back again.