by M. S. Parker
A memory so fragmented it could barely be called one washed up from the recesses of my mind – another man, another face, somebody crouched over me, hands gripping me, a hand tangled in my hair.
“No,” I muttered, shoving the thought aside.
The bell of the door jangled, and I looked up, eager for the distraction. But Toni, the girl who was closing with me had already moved in on the two young women coming into the boutique.
Sighing, I closed my books and moved out from behind the counter, going over to the clearance racks to start straightening them.
Another half hour and we could start closing the store, then I could go home.
I’d have a glass of wine – or maybe I’d go straight to the cheap rum I’d picked up and mix it with some soda. One drink and I’d be out like a light and this weird-ass day would be over.
An hour later, I was finally home, and I did decide to go for the rum and soda. It hit me hard, considering I hadn’t had much to eat since lunchtime, but I didn’t bother rummaging around looking for anything to eat.
Most of what I had in the apartment was stuff like canned pasta or ramen noodles, and none of that sounded appetizing.
Part of me wished I’d taken Kane up on his offer of pizza. Not that I’d had the time, but I’d loved our casual meals together, followed by quiet chatter about everything and nothing.
And he wondered why I felt safe with him.
Brooding into my cocktail, I lay propped up in bed in my pajamas while the news played in the background. My mind was wandering, and I waited for the drink to catch up and hit me, so I could sleep. I had to be up in six hours, so I could catch the subway in time to make my first class.
My mind was comfortably hazed, finally, and I thought maybe I’d get some sleep, some real sleep.
“…local football star indicted for rape…”
I blinked and focused on the TV as a local newscaster continued to talk, reporting a story that had been dominating the area media for the past few days. Cringing mentally, I reached for the remote, but in the end, I sat there, clutching the remote and watching the TV.
“…witnesses reported seeing the victim lying unresponsive when they came across the two. The accused, according to witness reports, was on top…”
I closed my eyes, blocking out the mental image the reporter’s words painted. As she continued to drone on, I grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. Straightening up in bed, I tossed back the rest of the drink and got up to mix another. I was probably going to end up with a headache in the morning.
But now I needed the alcohol to sleep.
Returning to bed, I hit the lights and sat there, drinking in the dark.
“…stop screaming…”
His voice rasped in my ear, and when I opened my mouth to scream again, he kissed me, his tongue thick and intrusive in my mouth. It gagged me, and I gasped for air when he finally stopped.
Hard hands ripped at my clothes, shoving my shirt up, jerking at my skirt.
“Look at your pretty titties, Raye!”
His voice echoed in my ears, and I tried to focus on his face. Darkness obscured much of him, but I caught sight of his eyes. Dark brown and they stared down at me.
His hands, so big and hard and cruel, closed over my breasts and I cried out in pain as he squeezed.
“Be quiet!”
He smashed his lips down on mine again, jerking up only when light flared.
A door opened! I turned my head, calling out.
“Shut the fucking door!”
Light spilled across his face, and I shrank away as I recognized him. My head spun, and my belly roiled.
No. This wasn’t happening.
But the spinning in my head got worse, and when he bent back over me, there wasn’t just one of him but two.
He fisted a hand in my hair, jerked my head back. This time when he kissed me, I didn’t have the strength to pull away or even try to turn my head. I didn’t have the strength to shove at him when he pulled my panties off.
“That’s better. You know you want this…why are you trying to fight?”
I choked out something. Did I tell him to stop? Did I say no?
I couldn’t tell.
But I slapped at his hands until he grabbed them and jerked them overhead, pinning me down.
When he drove into me, it hurt.
He grunted and muttered, “Fuck, you’re dry, bitch. Don’t you know how to do this?”
I whimpered, trying to curl up in a ball, but all that did was get me a punch in the stomach.
Dazed, I laid there, trying to breathe, but I couldn’t.
My head spun.
He moved over me.
Somebody laughed.
He said something.
A door opened again, and light spilled across his face as he panted down into my face.
And I saw his.
Brown eyes.
A scar bisecting his eyebrow.
I jerked awake.
Sweating and shivering, I lay huddled in a ball on the bed as the nightmare faded, already almost out of reach.
I’d never been able to remember my dreams very well, and the nightmares like this were the worst.
Some might think it was a blessing, but some didn’t know what I knew.
The not knowing was a curse.
The uncertainty, the fear, the doubt, all of that was a nightmare of its own, one that I’d been living with for years.
This time, I dreamed it was Kane.
For a minute, I thought I’d get sick.
I sat there on the side of the bed, swallowing the spit in my mouth and breathing shallowly until the urge past. Then, slowly, feeling like I’d aged a decade, I climbed out of bed and grabbed my robe. Shivering, I pulled it on. The heavyweight material did nothing to penetrate the chill that gripped me, and I knew it would be hours before I felt warm. It would take days for me to feel clean again.
Half stumbling into the bathroom, I turned on the lights, refusing to look at myself in the mirror.
I knew what I’d see, and it wouldn’t help anything.
My pallor, my over-dark eyes, the trembling lips and the shadows that would linger in my gaze for the next few days, it was all familiar territory. What I needed now was a hot shower and a hot cup of tea. I’d curl up in my chair, and if I was lucky, I’d drowse for a few more hours.
I stood under the minuscule showerhead, scrubbing at my skin until it was pink.
It did nothing to alleviate the fact that I felt dirty, but the attempt mattered. There was a pattern I had to follow after the dreams, and the shower was part of it. Once I was done, I slathered myself in a lotion I saved for certain occasions – not special, per se, but the scent of it comforted me, and this was a time when I needed comfort. The scent of vanilla and lavender rose around me as I tugged my pajamas and robe back on.
Heading back into the main room of my apartment, I went to the stove and started a pot of water to boil.
As the water heated, I got down my box of teas and took my time looking for the lavender-chamomile mix.
Throughout the entire process, I didn’t let my mind wander past anything except what I was doing.
I couldn’t afford it.
I already felt just this side of shattering.
I was going to have to think, and soon.
But I wasn’t ready to do it yet.
Thinking could wait.
It could wait until I was a little more focused. A little more centered. A little less wracked by cold and chills.
A few minutes later, I curled up in my chair, a heavy fleece blanket wrapped around me. I stared outside at the Christmas tree that filled the window of the apartment of my neighbor across the street. She hadn’t taken it down yet. Part of me hoped she wouldn’t. I found the lights calming.
I took a sip of tea.
The dregs of the dream were all but gone when I finally let myself think about it.
Only one thing remained clear.
&nbs
p; But that one thing was enough.
I’d dreamt it was Kane.
I’d thought I’d been doing better.
I’d thought I’d come so far.
And something had set me back.
Was it just because I’d been with Kane?
Was it because I’d seen Chad?
Was it because I’d fallen asleep right after that one newscast?
Or was it simply because I was just that fucked up?
I really didn’t know.
But I’d thought I was doing better. I’d thought maybe I could have a relationship with somebody. But even casual sex with a guy who made me feel as safe as Kane did had somehow wound up with me dreaming about him raping me.
I couldn’t handle these dreams again.
It had taken forever for them to fade.
I wasn’t going down this road again.
Not for anything.
“I’m going to have to end things with Kane.”
To my horror, tears pricked my eyes.
But I wasn’t going to change my mind, either.
Twenty-Six
Kane
I’d just cut my hand, and I stood there swearing a blue streak.
I was alone in the garage, which was a good thing. My temper was foul, and my mood was toxic.
It had nothing to do with the cut on my hand and everything to do with a phone call I’d gotten two days earlier.
Hey, Kane…it’s Michelle…we need to talk.
Anytime anybody said those words, it led to trouble.
But I hadn’t been expecting the conversation that followed.
Raye didn’t want to see me anymore. And she didn’t even have the balls to tell me herself. She’d had Michelle call me up and tell me.
I didn’t even get a reason, although Michelle insisted there was something else going on. She couldn’t tell me what it was, of course.
I don’t know what it is…I just know Raye’s holding something back.
Michelle could be right.
Maybe Raye was hiding something. Maybe she wasn’t. But it wasn’t like I’d be able to ask her. She didn’t want to see me anymore, and I wasn’t about to chase after her.
It wasn’t in my makeup.
Besides, we weren’t having a relationship. We’d just been having sex. Now, we weren’t having anything. And she couldn’t even tell me face to face.
Shit.
I had to get over this.
I hated the idea of never seeing her again, but I’d known it wouldn’t last.
Still, I felt uneasy about the whole thing, especially Michelle’s insistence that she thought there was more going on than what we knew. I kept thinking about the way she’d rushed out of the apartment after the last time we’d been together. We’d had a good time, right?
I’d ask her for pizza, and she’d been lying limp and lax against me, then…just like that, things had changed.
I was missing something.
Thinking about the nerves and fear I’d seen in her eyes so many times, thinking about the way she’d rushed out of here, then what Michelle had said, I pulled my phone out, half a mind to call Raye. I had her number, although I hadn’t once called her. She’d texted me a few times, but why couldn’t I call her? Just…we could do coffee, and I could ask her what changed, right?
My phone rang as I stood there staring at it and the sight of my mother’s face on the screen made me groan. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to her – or anybody. Except maybe Raye, but she wasn’t going to be coming around, now was she?
It wasn’t in my makeup to ignore a call from my mother, though, so I answered with a curt, “Hello.”
“Kane, honey, I’m sorry to bother you, but…it’s Austen.”
What the fuck else is new? I managed, barely, not to snap the words, keeping them behind my teeth through sheer will. “What’s going on?”
“He hasn’t been to school all week.” The words came rushing out of her, worry edging her voice. “The school called, and if this keeps up, he’s going to either be expelled or have to repeat, and you know Austen…he won’t do another year at school. I called him to see what’s going on, but he won’t answer his phone. He never talks to me anymore, and I’m scared, Kane. I’m just plain scared.”
Frustration bubbled inside me, but I shoved it down.
“Okay, Mom. What do you want me to do?”
“He’s not even answering his phone. Can you try to find him? Maybe he’ll talk to you.”
It wasn’t very likely, but I didn’t tell her that. “I’ll do what I can, Mom.”
As I disconnected the call, I shoved the phone into my pocket. So much for trying to reach out to Raye.
I was more than a little disgusted with the fact that I was going to have to hunt down my baby brother – again.
I swear, if I found him at another underground fight, I was going to nail his ass.
Maybe that was what I needed to do anyway. I’d been taking it too easy on him.
If that kid kept going on the road he was on, he was going to end up like I had…or worse. He had absolutely no sense of self-preservation these days.
Twenty-Seven
Raye
My nerves were no better now than they had been before I ended things with Kane.
The nightmare had come again, although this time, it hadn’t featured Kane front and center. It was more like a vague blur of fogged memories, stuck on repeat in my dreams.
It had been several days since Michelle had called me to let me know she’d delivered the message to Kane, then offered a shoulder if I needed one. I’d almost took her up on that and I might yet, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to go down that rabbit hole, and all that might be exposed if I finally let myself open up.
Near the display in front of the store, I checked the time, eager to be out of there so I could go home and just…be away from people.
The bell over the door chimed, and I turned, a smile in place to greet the customer.
It froze as I saw who the customer was.
Chad.
Son of a bitch.
It was Chad.
“Raye…” He stepped toward me, an expansive smile on his face.
When he went to touch me, I backed away in a hurry, barely escaping his hands before he could put them on me.
He chuckled. “Sorry. Probably shouldn’t be going and hugging on you while you’re at work, huh?” He gave me a quick wink and looked around, rocking back on his heels as he did so. “I knew that was you I saw in here when I came by the other day. You disappeared so fast, I didn’t have time to talk to you. I guess you were going on break or something.”
“Or something,” I said stiffly.
My breathing hitched in my lungs, and my throat shrank down to the size of a pinhole, making it almost impossible to draw in air. Heart hammering against my ribs, I felt the tips of my fingers going numb.
Panic attack. I recognized the symptoms. I’d had them before but not recently. I had to get control of myself.
If I didn’t, I’d end up crouched in a corner and the thought of Chad seeing me like that was more than I could bear.
Breathe, I told myself. You can breathe.
Flaring my nostrils wide, I drew in a slow breath of air and forced my lungs to accept it. It’s mind over matter, Raye. Remember that.
Chad was still talking. I had no idea what he was saying.
I managed another breath.
Some of the white noise in my head retreated.
Swallowing, I darted a look around, hoping I could find one of my co-workers to dump him on, but the only one nearby was already talking to a young woman roughly my age.
Chad’s mouth finally stopped moving, and he stared at me expectantly.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I managed to say.
“Well, I’ll be honest…” He stepped in closer, but not so close that it would appear inappropriate to anybody standing nearby. “I came by to see you. It’s been a long time. I had n
o idea you’d moved to New York. Honestly, I haven’t seen much of you since…” His eyes narrowed as he cocked his head. “Man, I guess it’s been a couple years. Didn’t see you around much after that frat party. Hell, that was some party, wasn’t it? Remember?”
His tone dropped lower, almost intimate.
Did I remember? I felt like I was going to hurl. My hand clenched, and some part of me wanted to hit him.
“I’m afraid I don’t think a whole lot about that time, Chad,” I said, my voice rigid. “I left Texas A&M a while back, and honestly, that time doesn’t cross my mind much.”
Something flashed in his pale, watery blue eyes, and I braced myself for his reaction. But all he did was laugh. “Shit, maybe that’s the way to handle those wild times in college. We all have them, don’t we?” Another quick wink and he added, “You had some wild times, didn’t you, Raye?”
Wild times.
Son of a bitch.
That son of a bitch.
He sidled another step closer to me, and I backed away a bit, circling around the table to keep it as a barrier of sorts between us. From the corner of my eye, I saw that my co-worker had finished with the girl she’d been waiting on. “Chad, my shift’s nearly over so I need to go wrap some things up. I’ll turn you over to Emery, and she can help you with anything you might need here in the store.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but I flagged Emery down.
She was at my side, a bright smile in place before he could say a word, and I made quick my escape.
Darting into the back of the shop, I locked myself in the bathroom and braced my hands on the sink, staring at my pale face and struggling to keep the air going in and out of my lungs.
I had to breathe.
I had to keep breathing.
If I didn’t, I’d pass out, and even though he was in the front of the shop and I was back here, I refused to be in that sort of vulnerable position with him anywhere near me.
Turning on the cold water, I bent over the sink and cupped my hands under the flow, catching some and splashing it on my face. The encroaching fog washed back some. I breathed in deep. Splashed more water on my face. Breathed more.
