by N. K. Smith
It was Sunday and Sophie was acting strangely as I picked her up from work. She was alternating between excessive closeness and extreme withdrawal. Her eyes were sober, so I wasn’t worried about what she was on, but it was so clear that she was having issues regulating her emotions.
It was raining, so we decided we’d just hang out after her shift. I took her out for a late lunch and she practically had sex with me in the booth as we waited for our food. She was all over me, moving and wriggling, her hands moving up under my t-shirt.
When I didn’t respond the way she wanted me to, she moved as far away as she possibly could. She was huddled, with her legs up to her chest so not even our feet could touch.
My chest was tight since picking her up, my mind racing with everything that might have been wrong.
I wasn’t prepared to handle Sophie in this state and it was taking every ounce of energy I had not to panic about it.
I felt like I should’ve just taken her home. I felt like that was the kind of distance we needed. I couldn’t figure out what she was going through.
After dinner, she was all over me in the car. I had to tell her to stop because I couldn’t drive if she was distracting me.
Again, she pulled away and huddled herself as far away as possible, pressing against her door.
I was incapable of handling the situation, but I just kept telling myself that Sophie needed me. Whatever she was going through, she needed my help and I couldn’t send her on her way just because I felt a little overwhelmed. Especially since she was always there for me when I had my panic attacks.
When we got to my room, my plan was to keep things quiet. I just wanted to listen to music and perhaps simply lay together. A nap might’ve helped her because she looked as though she hadn’t been sleeping.
When the door was closed and locked, she stood there, nervously biting her bottom lip. “I love you, Elliott.”
I smiled. “I llll-llllove you, Sophie.”
Then out of nowhere, she was acting aggressively again. She pressed herself to me, pushing me back to the wall.
I was breathing hard, unsure exactly where this was going or how I felt about it.
She smiled up at me and I continued to stand there frozen against the wall. Her lips were at my neck as her hands moved all over my body, moving up under my shirt and pawing at my chest before moving to my back. All I could see was the top of her head as I licked my lips. My body was responding to her, even though I couldn’t move and my mind wasn’t working.
Her hands moved to my waist, quickly unbuttoning my jeans and tugging them down my hips. Finally, some sound escaped my throat, although it didn’t resemble a word. Before I could even collect my thoughts, Sophie was on her knees before me, her hands pulling at the elastic of my boxer-briefs.
I no longer had to wonder where this was going. A crazy mix of emotions and thoughts jumbled inside of me as Sophie started doing things I didn’t want her to do. The seventeen-year-old in me wanted her to continue, but at the same time I desperately needed her to stop.
My mind, muscles and voice wouldn’t cooperate and as my eyes closed, I was transported back in time to a place I didn’t want to be. The only image I could see was being asked to do one of the filthiest things I could ever think of doing. I wanted to choke, I wanted to vomit, I wanted to scream.
My fingers tightened on her shoulders and had I been able to think rationally, I would have been worried that I was bruising her. I pushed at her, but she was relentless. I slammed my head back against the wall, hoping that the pain would be enough to jump-start my mind and voice.
Finally, I was able to choke out, “St-st-stop.”
But she didn’t hear me. I pushed against her again.
“SSSSoph-phie, st-st-stop!”
With one last push, she finally sat back on her heels, her eyes wide as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She was confused and angry and... hurt.
“What the fuck, Elliott?”
Bending down, I pulled my underwear and pants back up as my eyes continued to flood with tears and shame. “I-I-I d-d-don’t wwwwwant you to d-d-do th-that.”
“What?” Her expression turned indignant.
“It’s d-d-dirty.”
She froze. She was still for a few seconds and then licked her lips, rocking back on her heels before standing up. “Dirty? It’s dirty? What the fuck’s dirty about it?”
She was angry. Her eyes flashed hot at me and once again I felt powerless. I wouldn’t be able to explain it to her.
“It’s dirty?” she asked again. “So what? I’m dirty for doing it? Jesus, you could just say thank you like other guys. But no, you think it’s dirty and I’m just a dirty whore for wanting to do it to you, right?”
“N-n-no,”I practically begged, but I couldn’t get anything else out even if my mind and body would let me. I wanted to tell her why I thought it was dirty. I wanted to tell her that I’d never think that way about her, but what came out of my mouth was nothing short of devastating.
“Prostitutes and immoral women are a deadly trap. They wait for you like robbers and cause many men to be unfaithful.” The words were out before I even knew what happened. The rest of the chapter flooded my brain, but I managed to choke it back before it spilled from me.
Sophie clenched her teeth as her hands tightened into balls and before I could even recognize her rage, she was hitting me. Her fists were raining ineffectual blows down on me, but all I could think to do was to cower down and hold my hands over my head, protecting myself.
Then I remembered that I was bigger than she was. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I needed her to stop hitting me. I stood up straight and took hold of her wrists and pushed her back into the wall next to my desk with my body. I held her hands next to her head. My grip tightened.
Her foot stomped on mine and instinctively, I pulled her toward me, only to push her back quickly. The back of her head hit the wall and the accompanying thud startled me.
Her knee rammed into my thigh and my hands relaxed. She slipped out of my hold, pushed at my chest, and then her hands curled again and she was beating my chest.
I pushed her back again until my body wedged her against the wall. I wanted her to know how stupid she was being.
I was mad at her. I hated her for even wanting to do that. I was angry at her constant pushing and her constant need!
Sophie needed to be controlled. She was never controlled. She was always wild, always speeding toward a curve and she constantly pulled people along with her.
I wanted to control her. I wanted to put my hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t be able to talk anymore. I wanted to... If I could just...
“Get the fuck off of me.” Her voice was quiet, but firm.
I hadn’t secured her hands and one moved up to my hair. For a moment I hoped that it would be a soothing touch because this situation was too much and I needed her to stop being mean. I needed her to love me.
Instead she yanked at my hair as her other hand moved to my cheek. She pushed at me, making my neck twist.
She was successful and I stumbled backwards. The foot of distance between us humbled me and as the anger fled, I was suddenly ashamed.
“SSSSSSoph-phie, I-I-I...”
I wanted to speak. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to take it all back.
“You’re just like everyone else! I’m dirty? I fucking told you that. I told you when I met you that I wasn’t good enough.”
“Nnnnot y-y-you...” Why couldn’t she understand that I hadn’t called her dirty? Why couldn’t she realize that it was what she had been doing that was dirty?
I blindly reached for her hands to still them, but missed.
“I told you I was dirty!”
Again, I grabbed her wrists and held tightly. They were small in my han
ds and if I wasn’t careful, I could break them. She was struggling against me again, but I could not let go.
With the weight of my body, I held her against the door, one of her arms wedged between our bodies as I brought my hand up to cover her mouth. I just wanted her to stop for just a moment and think. Just listen.
Fat tears rolled down her cheeks and I remembered her telling me that the man who’d hurt her had covered her mouth. My body started working again and I stepped back. She won. I wouldn’t fight anymore. I felt confused and didn’t know what was happening. I loved Sophie. Sophie loved me. She was just upset because she thought I said something I didn’t.
As I sank down against the wall, I could feel an attack creeping up. I looked at her, my eyes wide with panic. At first she did nothing but stare back. She was going to let it happen. She wasn’t going to help me!
I couldn’t help the tears then. I couldn’t blame her. I’d messed up again. I’d messed up badly. And now she was angry.
My chest seized up and I gasped for air as my heart pounded in my chest. My mind couldn’t focus on any one thing. I tried just to think of one piece of music, one passage from a book, one poem, one line of a song, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even think of a comforting piece of Scripture. Instead my mind raced with thoughts of Sophie, thoughts of Joseph, thoughts of not being able to breathe, of not being able to be normal, of never being able to be what Sophie wanted or needed.
I had no idea how long I was gasping for breath, curled in a ball, and hadn’t even realized that I’d been making any kind of sound beyond wheezing. Finally, Sophie’s hands were in my hair, her lips pressed against my forehead. I calmed and breathed her in. I wanted to say her name but couldn’t. I just sat there and cried. I was comforted because she was crying with me.
After a while, I heard her whisper, “I’m sorry,” and then, “I have to go.”
Her hands were gone and I could no longer feel her, but that didn’t help slow my heart or my breathing. I tried to look up, to see where she was, but I was alone. Again my thoughts raced: Sophie, Joseph, messed up Elliott Dalton.
There were other voices now, but Sophie’s wasn’t among them. In the back of my mind, I knew who they belonged to, but the only thing that held any meaning for me was that one of them was male. The connection was made. I knew that I was in my room; my room, the one and only place that no one else was supposed to be unless I wanted them to be and now I knew there was another male inside my room with me.
My body shook uncontrollably as I feebly attempted to push and kick the hands away. When that did nothing, I tightened my body even further in hope that there would be nothing left for the hands to touch.
Slowly, my body began to feel heavy and my muscles grew weak as my mind and thoughts slowed. Breathing became easier and after a while, my heart slowed, beginning to regulate itself again. The darkness surrounding me began to lighten. Carefully, I rolled myself up, sitting pressed against the wall, my knees still clutched against my chest.
Robin and Stephen sat before me and I couldn’t muster enough energy to feel upset that they were in my room. Languidly, my eyes moved to Stephen’s hand where he still gripped a syringe. Dr. Dalton and his sedatives to the rescue again. I was thankful. Sophie must’ve gone to them before she took off, saving me from another attack.
As my breathing continued to slow, I felt the tears stop and I wiped away the wetness that still lingered. The great thing about Stephen’s sedatives was that they calmed me down quickly to the point where I no longer had a million thoughts rushing through me. Unfortunately, they calmed me down a little too much, to where I was forced to focus on things I didn’t want to. And they made me much more prone to falling victim to Robin’s questions.“What happened?”
I blinked, shaking my head. “Nnnnothing,” I lied.
There was no need to tell them what had happened. Not only was it intensely personal, but none of them would understand it. I didn’t want them to think badly of Sophie. It wasn’t her fault that I was like this. It wasn’t her fault that I reacted this way.
It wasn’t her fault that I didn’t want what she did.
“Elliott.”
I looked at Stephen and hated the expression he wore as he said my name. I hated that I hated that he was in my room. I hated that no matter who he was, he would never be able to be close to me because I would never let that happen. Although I allowed him to touch me to examine me from time to time, and every once in a while hold my head still while he looked into my eyes, I would never allow him to hug me. I would never allow him to be a father, be a dad, or even a friend who had those rights.
“Caaaaan you j-just go awaaaay?” I wasn’t trying to be harsh. I just wanted all of them out of my room.
“Elliott, I don’t think...”
I had no other option but to raise my voice. “G-g-get o-out!” It seemed to startle them and in the same tone and volume, I begged. “P-pleeeease?”
Stephen looked at me for a moment more, sadness transparent on his face, before standing up and leaving the room. Robin spoke in her maternal voice with just a hint of professional shrink. “Elliott, you need to talk about what just happened.”
“N-nothing ha-ha-happened. I-I juuuuust...” I stopped talking as she placed a hand on my cheek. I flinched, hitting my head against the wall again. “G-g-g-g-get o-o-out!”
Finally she stood up and turned to leave.
I let out a shaky breath and squeezed my eyes tight.
I had completely messed everything up with Sophie. She didn’t deserve, nor would she want, someone like me. I couldn’t even be normal. She was so angry at me when she left.
I couldn’t even let her... I wasn’t a normal boy who could enjoy normal things. I’d made her feel bad for doing something most boys would’ve begged for.
I wanted Sophie. I worried about where she was and what she was feeling.
I wanted her to come back to me. I wanted us to be able to talk about what had happened.
I would apologize for grabbing and pushing her and she would tell me she was sorry for hitting me. She would feel bad for saying mean things and I would explain why I thought what she did was dirty and nasty.
When she returned to me, I would tell her, and she would understand and she would hug me and put her hands in my hair. And she would tell me that she loved me and we would promise never to hurt each other like that again.
Sophie would come back, but I worried about what she would do in the meantime.
I wandered around Damascus for hours crying. I had no clue what had just happened except that I’d hit Elliott. Even though I’d calmed down enough toward the end to give him some comfort, I’d still fucked up completely.
I realized now that I should’ve asked before I did what I did. I’d just wanted to take that next step. Having sex with him was great, but I wanted to show him how sexy he was and how I didn’t care about scars. He had every right to call me dirty.
I wanted to drown out all the horrible things in my head.
I hated what I had done. I hated what happened. It was more evidence that I wasn’t good for him. I’d never be good for him.
I’d been feeling so strange since hearing that song. I felt so sick and powerless. I felt like a little girl again. I knew there were things that I didn’t quite remember. Wallace called them blocks. They were things that I knew were there, but I had literally blocked out from my mind. Something was wrong, I just didn’t know what. She’d been trying to get me to remember some of those things for a while. She’d asked me a couple times if he’d ever brought other guys over.
When that song played, it was instant. It was like the memory was poured over me, drenching me in the disgust, the shame, the powerlessness, the fear, the pain, and the absolute horror of that night.
And once I remembered, what the hell was I supposed to do with it
?
Nothing.
There was nothing to be done. Now I just had to live with it. Unlike before when I could go on knowing something had happened, now I knew exactly what happened.
It made me sick.
No matter how much time went by, I’d still be a fucking dirty girl.
Be my dirty girl.
Even Elliott said it. He said I was dirty. He fucking said it and then he tried to say that he didn’t! But I heard him.
He thought I was dirty.
Dirty girl.
And he wasn’t wrong.
I was dirty. I shouldn’t have hit him.
Mmmm, Sophie, you’re so fucking dirty.
But I couldn’t go back there.
No.
I wasn’t good for Elliott. Even if we got past this, there would be another time. No matter how hard we tried, we’d never be right for each other. I’d always be dirty. He’d always be clean.
Every time.
Even though I felt bad and I knew it wasn’t his fault, I grew angry again, but for another reason. Elliott made me love him. He made me want something different. He made me think I deserved something different. Something better. He made me feel all this shit. His presence, his kindness, his words of love, they all promised me something I could never have.
I’d been stupid enough to believe it. How could I have believed that I could ever deserve something like that from someone like him?
It was getting really late. I pushed the thoughts away. The sun hadn’t set yet, but I was getting tired of roaming around this little town. I walked back to the Quickshop. Brody was stocking bread.
“Back for more, Young?” he asked without even looking in my direction. “I thought only the lifers couldn’t get enough of this pl--”
