by M. S. Parker
Finally, after a couple long and agonizing hours, Suzette finally excused herself, saying she had Christmas shopping to do. Her good-bye to me was cursory and made it clear that she didn't expect us to meet again anytime soon. Zeke, on the other hand, lingered until Rylan said we needed to be going. He didn't even bother with a good-bye to me.
As we left the restaurant, I could feel Rylan's embarrassment over how things had gone and tried to make it better, making light conversation about work and the weather. I didn't think he was fooled, but he let me go. I was grateful when he took me back to my place and didn't ask if I wanted him to come in. As much as I'd missed him over Thanksgiving, I wanted to be alone right now. I needed to take a hot shower and curl up with a good book. Maybe, tomorrow, I'd feel more like spending time with Rylan, but right now, I couldn't get the lunch conversations out of my head. All I kept hearing were the hundreds of ways I wasn't good enough for Rylan, the ones spoken and the ones implied, as well as quite a few I came up with on my own. It would take some time to get over that. If I ever could.
Chapter 13
This is why I didn't like getting involved with people. A quick fuck and that was it. No baggage, no wondering about what the other person was thinking. Now, I was in a relationship. That meant meeting families and dealing with disapproval. Meeting friends and having them hate me.
Check and check again.
I spent the night after the disastrous lunch date curled up in bed reading a book that had monsters and things that went bump in the night but absolutely, one hundred percent, no romance. Not an easy thing to find.
Rylan texted me a couple times, but I kept the answers cursory and polite. I didn't want to get into a lengthy discussion about feelings and all that shit. I just wanted to close my brain down for a few hours.
That was easier said than done.
Aside from the fact that I kept seeing every look, hearing every snide remark, I also had an uncomfortable feeling that I couldn't quite put my finger on.
I prided myself on how little I let my past shape certain aspects of my life. My fears and safety concerns, I felt, were well balanced. I didn't go to one extreme or the other. I had locks on my doors, but the only one I'd added had been a deadbolt. The regular one and the chain lock had already been there. I took self-defense classes and knew how to shoot a gun, but I didn't own one. I carried pepper spray but not a Taser or anything like that.
Still, every once in a while, I'd feel the need to turn on every light in my apartment, double check all of the windows and the door. When that happened, I let myself do the checking, but I picked a single room and only turned on the lights in there. Tonight, I picked my bedroom and hoped that reading would be enough of a distraction that the nagging feeling that something was wrong would dissipate by the time I was ready to go to sleep.
It didn't work so I left my light on as I pulled my covers up around my shoulders and tried to sleep. Whenever my brain was too busy for me to sleep, I'd try to go over the plot of whatever book I happened to be reading, picking apart plot holes, theorizing about things to come or backstory not mentioned. Usually, it kept part of my mind occupied enough for the rest to fall asleep. Tonight, however, I found it difficult to keep focused, to follow through on whatever I tried to think about. My mind kept wandering, generally back to lunch.
Had I handled things wrong? I was sure I could've done better, but I had absolutely no experience dealing with families. Not even my own.
Maybe I should've told the whole truth. Let Suzette and Zeke have it all, every last little piece of shit that made up the first thirteen years of my life. I didn't know if that would've made them more or less sympathetic to me, but I knew it would've been horrifying enough that they would've felt like asses for pressing the issue. If I'd been one of those people who coped and grew through sharing, I might've done just that.
That wasn't me though. I'd spent years working through my issues and I didn't think it was anyone else's business. I supposed that I'd eventually need to decide if I would tell Rylan more, but we weren't there yet. Even if I'd wanted to shock Suzette and Zeke, I wouldn't have felt right telling them something I hadn't even shared with Rylan.
I shivered and pulled my blanket even closer. I didn't like thinking about the past in general, but it was even worse at night. I needed to get my mind off of those things, off of the questions that would surely keep coming. If Suzette's behavior and attitude were any indication, Rylan's parents and step-mother weren't going to be fond of me either, and chances were, they'd ask about my family too. After all, wasn't that how we as a people learned about each other? We asked about family because we understood that family was what shaped us from the beginning, made us into who we were. If family wasn't so important, kids who were raised in orphanages, without human contact for years, wouldn't be any different than kids who were raised in traditional homes.
I knew enough psychology to know that wasn't true. Because of my own past, I wished familial influence wasn't important, if only so I could say that I was who I was by my choice – that my family hadn't played any part in it.
I sighed. When things got this busy in my head, nothing I could do would stop it, no matter how much I wanted it to. No, the only thing I could do was let things run their natural course and hope that I'd fall asleep before dawn and get at least a couple hours in.
I couldn't breathe.
I didn't know how long I'd been here, bent over this bench-thing, only that my arms and legs had fallen asleep a while ago. At first, I hadn't minded. Before my limbs had gone numb, the chains had been biting into my wrists and ankles. What I hadn't realized was how much that pain had distracted me from everything else.
I was wearing only a thin, filmy dress. Nothing underneath. And the room was cold. It would warm up later, I knew. They kept it cold at first because if we started off hot, it would be sweltering by the time we were done. It didn't keep the goose bumps away or keep me from shivering. Only clenching my jaw was preventing my teeth from chattering. I hoped I'd warm enough to stop before they used my mouth. I knew that a bite, even an accidental one, would come with punishment.
The wooden bench had no padding on the top and the planks were rough. They'd probably made it that way, wanting me and others like me to get splinters. I knew that by the time they were done, my stomach and the bottom of my ribs would be raw and bruised.
The angle they'd bent me was making it hard to inhale, so each breath was shallow. All of my weight was on my knees and there was a deep ache in them. Even now, I knew the pain would be excruciating by the time they finished. Not a single part of me would make it through free from pain.
I heard them come in, but they stayed behind me so I couldn't see who they were or how many there were. I thought maybe ten, probably more. I heard women as well as men. They weren't talking loud enough for me to hear what they were saying, but I could hear the excitement buzzing.
I hated the waiting worst of all. I couldn't stop myself from thinking about all the different things they were going to do, all of the ways I was going to be hurt. When they started, at least then I could focus on the pain and it would block out everything else.
Then the pain began and it was everywhere.
Burning cigarettes were put out on my back.
Fabric cutting into my flesh as my dress was ripped off.
Fingers pinching and probing.
Then came the fucking.
They took turns everywhere they could, every way they could.
Some of them talked to each other, conversations about their lives as they waited for access. I heard one of the men talking about coaching his son's Little League team, then he stopped for his turn. Another woman kept petting my head.
No one talked to me, not unless grunts and foul names counted. At one point, I tried to keep track of the number of times I was called 'bitch' and 'cunt’, but I lost count after a while.
Finally, I thought they'd finished, but that was when one of them said they were
ready for the real show.
When the door opened, I screamed.
I screamed until my voice was gone.
I passed out and they woke me up again.
It went on for hours. For years. It would never end. Never stop. The pain and humiliation. I'd never get away...
My eyes flew open, then closed involuntarily at the light. I wrenched them open again, even though it hurt. I didn't want to be in the dark again.
I sat up and drew my knees to my chest, shivering as I wrapped my blanket around me. Of all the memories and the nightmares, that was the worst. It was that night when I'd reached my lowest point. That night that I'd known, without the shadow of a doubt… I would never get out.
My fingers began to trace along the inside of my left arm. The scar there ran from my wrist to my elbow. I'd been lucky, the doctor had said, that it hadn't been deep enough to cause permanent damage. I'd been extra lucky that my mom had found me and had the presence of mind to put on a tourniquet.
I didn't tell him it wasn't luck. It was hell.
If I'd been older, I might've wondered why the doctor hadn't figured out that there was way more to my injury than what he'd been told. I might've asked why he hadn't done a full work-up when he saw the bruises on my neck that looked like fingers. The bruises on my arms and legs that held distinctive chain link patterns. The other obvious signs of abuse. I'd gotten my answer years later.
I looked down at the scar my fingers were tracing. It was funny, what I remembered about that night. The night I'd decided that it was pointless to hope for anything else, pointless to think that someone would come rescue me. I wasn't some fairy princess and there was no such person as Prince Charming. I still believed that last bit.
Rylan's face flashed in front of my eyes and I pushed it away. He wasn't Prince Charming because I wasn't a fucking damsel in distress. I'd needed someone to save me before. I didn't need to be saved now.
I shivered again. I wasn't going to get warmed up here with just a blanket. Not this kind of chill.
I climbed out of bed and went into my bathroom. I rubbed my arms as I waited for the water to heat up. I'd done it in the bathroom that night. Broken a piece of glass in the mirror and climbed into the tub.
This time, when I stepped into the shower, my hands were empty. While the nightmare hadn't been pleasant and the aftereffects were bothersome, I wasn't that frightened, depressed child anymore. I'd survived the worst.
I hissed as I stepped under the steaming spray. It was hot, almost too hot, but that was what I wanted right now. It wouldn't wash away the nightmare, but it would help the cold.
It had been a long time since I'd thought about that night or had a dream about it. I must've been more stressed by what had happened at lunch than I'd realized. Judgment was usually the trigger that brought that particular night back. It was funny – not amusing but rather ironic – that the person who made me feel the safest had been part of the moment that had triggered the memory of the time where I'd been the lowest.
Rylan.
I made a pained sound as I thought of what Rylan would think of me if he knew the whole truth. No matter how much he seemed to be the perfect guy when it came to my past, I knew the truth. If he knew what happened to me, what happened that night...
He'd run.
I was surprised by how much the thought of that hurt.
Chapter 14
I didn't sleep much the rest of the night, but I hadn't expected to anyway. What little I did get, at least, was dreamless. Since it was a Sunday morning, I didn't have anything planned, so I let myself have the luxury of taking it slow. It was nearly noon by the time I changed out of my pajamas and ate. I spent most of the early afternoon messing around with my security program and wondering if I should text or call Rylan. I wasn't entirely sure what the proper protocol was for communication after an uncomfortable lunch with a – I couldn't believe I was about to use the word – boyfriend's sister and best friend.
Even as chaotic as my brain was at the moment, I couldn't stop myself from smiling. Boyfriend. I'd never thought I'd use that word in a positive way, in any way related to me, really. It hadn't been anything I'd ever considered. Now, I wasn't just considering it. I actually had one.
I frowned. If he still wanted me after Suzette and Zeke had made it perfectly clear how not right for him I was.
They were right, I knew, and the best thing I could do would be to let him go, but I couldn't do it. It may have been selfish of me, but the way I figured it, fate or the universe or karma or whatever it was that determined what happened to us owed me big time, and I would use it to keep Rylan for as long as I could.
I just didn't know how to do it.
I was still trying to decide if I should make the first move and call Rylan when someone knocked on my door. A moment later, I heard my name.
“Jenna, it's me.”
I opened the door, letting a new kind of warmth through me, the kind that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the man standing in the hallway.
He looked almost as bad as I felt.
The bags under his eyes said he'd slept as little as I had and his hair looked like he hadn't done more than run his hand through it. He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that fit him perfectly, but they both looked rumpled, as if he'd either slept in them or picked them up off the floor.
“May I come in?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. This was it. He was coming to tell me that he thought Suzette and Zeke were right. It was time to stop pretending. We needed to go back to employer and employee only.
I didn't want to sit so I was glad when he stayed on his feet too. I crossed my arms over my stomach, wondering if this would hurt as badly as I feared it would.
“At lunch yesterday,” he began. “Zeke and Suzette... they...” His voice trailed off and a look of frustration crossed his face.
“They don't think I'm right for you,” I stated it bluntly. I looked away when I got more specific. “I'm not good enough for you.”
“Jenna.”
He said my name firmly, but I didn't respond. He'd gotten too far past my walls already. I couldn't let him see what this would do to me. It was harder than I'd thought, especially after the rough night I'd had.
“Jenna, look at me.”
It wasn't a request, but the way he said it wasn't the same as the kind of demands I'd been given before. This was a command filled with emotion and it was the quaver that made me turn.
His eyes were blazing with something fierce as he closed the distance between us with two long steps. His hands cupped my face even as his mouth came down on mine. I gasped at the ferocity I felt radiating off of him and he took advantage of my parting lips to thrust his tongue into my mouth.
It wasn't a long kiss, but he was thorough as his tongue explored my mouth, his fingers digging into my hair. My hands grabbed onto the front of his shirt and I found myself daring to hope that this wasn't a good-bye kiss.
When he pulled his mouth away, he didn't step back or release my face. He rested his forehead against mine, his breathing heavy. I inhaled deeply, wanting to trap his scent, to keep it in my memory, something good I could hold onto during the bad.
“I'm sorry,” he said quietly.
I took a step back. I couldn't have him touching me when he did it.
“I should have told them both to go fuck themselves.”
My eyes widened. What?
Rylan reached out and brushed the back of his knuckles down the side of my face. “I don't want to scare you away by going too fast, and I don't want you to feel any obligation.” His thumb ran along my bottom lip. “But I need you to know, I'm falling in love with you.”
Oh shit.
Fear, desire and something I didn't want to put a name to welled up inside me all at once, choking me. I didn't know what to say, what to do. How should a girl respond when her boyfriend said something like that? I'd never had anyone tell me they loved me, no
t for real. Sure, along with all of the 'fuck,' 'bitch' and 'cunt' commentary, I'd gotten the 'l' word before, but I'd known it wasn't real.
The look in Rylan's eyes said he meant what he said, and I felt frozen at the thought.
“Don't say anything,” he continued. “I don't want you to say anything just because you think I want to hear it.” He tucked some hair behind my ear. “When you say it, I want to know that you mean it. I'll wait.” He stepped toward me again. “I'll wait for you as long as you need me to.”
Tears pricked at my eyes. I'd spent my whole life having people take what they wanted, when they wanted it. Expecting to hear what they wanted, whether I meant it or not.
“Are you okay?” His voice was filled with concern.
I nodded. I wasn't sure I could say anything, even if I'd known what to say. I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair and around the back of his head before pulling him down for another kiss. His arm slid around my waist, bringing our bodies tight together. I twisted my tongue around his, drawing it into my mouth. He moaned as I sucked on it and I felt him get hard.
Just when I thought we were going to move things into the bedroom, he pulled back. The expression on my face must've been amusing because he laughed softly.
“I want to. Trust me, I want to.” He dropped his hand, purposefully brushing it against the side of my breast.
I bit back a moan.
“But I have an appointment in fifteen minutes.”
