Flicker (11 page)

              “I can feel your longing,” Alex whispered, his accent more pronounced. “Oh, you've been trained to be afraid, too, but I can feel how much you want me.” He tightened his hands on her and she whimpered at the reminder of his power over her. “How much you want this.” His scent filled her lungs, making her head spin, and this time she didn't try to fight it. The length of his body against hers felt solid and secure, his arms oddly comforting, supporting even as they restrained her. So very different from…

              And then, like a switch being thrown, a barrier in her mind fell away and she was drowning in memories.

              Hot breath on her cheek, her neck, her chest…

              Relentless hands, uncompromising, holding her arms, kneading her flesh, closing her throat…

              Struggling, writhing in panic, kicking and biting and scratching…

              Begging, panting, whimpering, grunting, screaming…

              Pain.

              Terror, horror, helpless humiliation, and pain.

              Elise began to scream.

              She didn’t know how much time passed as she slowly calmed down. She was huddled against the wall, her knees pulled up against her chest and salty tears flooding from her eyes as she struggled not to hyperventilate. She thought back, with exquisite care to prevent another relapse into hysteria, over the events of the last few minutes. She’d begun to scream, throwing her entire body into fighting Alex, trying desperately to get away. For a moment, she reflected, he’d looked entirely taken aback. His eyes had widened in shock, but face to face with him, Elise had read his other emotions too, as clearly as if they'd been written out for her: a strange triumph, that lonely anguish, burning fury, and most terrifying of all, a bold, hungry lust. In an instant, though, his expression had closed off as he gathered himself.

              He'd started to let go, but with Elise writhing in panic, his hand had tangled in her long hair. After a moment of fruitless fighting, he'd simply gripped her tight, spun her so her back was to his chest, and pushed her down on the floor so he could work his hand loose without resistance. She recalled with embarrassment that during those few seconds, she'd kicked him as hard as she could more than a few times. As soon as he'd gotten his hand free, he’d immediately backed away, letting her stumble to her feet and bolt into the corner. She’d watched him, her eyes like saucers, pressing herself against the wall as she quaked, digging her fingernails into her legs as she clutched at them. Tears poured down her cheeks and she forced herself not to sob, trying desperately to control her breathing.

              Alex didn’t move, staying statue-like against the dining room doorway with his hands held cautiously out where she could see them. After a minute, he began to make quiet, soothing noises, shushing to her like she was a frightened animal. Normally, she would have resented the comparison, but at the time she had found the sound strangely comforting.

              Finally, she managed to relax, her tense muscles cramped and her skin stinging along the furrows her nails had raked. She found, suddenly, that she couldn’t look him in the eyes, but stood slowly, the idea forming in her mind that she should just go.

              “Elise,” he called quietly, still maintaining his careful position against the far wall.

              She turned back toward him, her shoulders hunched and her arms wrapped protectively around her chest. She kept her head down, ashamed. She was still frightened, but the fear was slowly being overwhelmed by anger: she was furious at herself. Now she could either leave and let him think she was crazy, or―she could barely even bring herself to consider another option―stay and have to explain the reason for her outburst. It would have been better never to have gotten involved with him at all. “Yeah?” She whispered.

              “Please don’t leave like this. It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.”

              She let out a short, humorless laugh. “Aren’t you worried about this psycho you let into your house? Maybe I should be promising not to hurt you.” The area rug covering the hardwood floor was dark gray with random navy threads, she noticed, studying it intensely.

              Alex snorted. “Little girl, we both know you couldn’t hurt me if you tried.” He paused for a moment, and when he went on, his voice was subdued and serious. “I swear to you, Elise, I won’t harm you at all. Please, come back.”

              She hesitated, but in the end, there was a gentle undertone to his voice that tugged at something deep within her. Haltingly, only shreds of her usual effortless grace remaining, she turned and walked back to the center of the room. She stopped when she came to the empty space where they'd been sitting before, because she saw what had tangled in her hair: his watch.

              Still refusing to look up, she sank down onto the floor beside it. She'd never really noticed it before, but then, she wasn't usually looking at his clothing. Now she saw that it looked very old, its gold body more than a little battered. It had several of her long, chestnut hairs tangled on the knob, and the leather band was torn, almost shredded, like a wild animal had savaged it. Suddenly, her heart was pounding again; she balled her sweaty hands in her skirt, fighting for calm.

              She heard Alex’s voice from the other side of the room. “May I join you?” He asked somberly. Still refusing to look up, she nodded, biting down on her lip to keep it still. She heard him tread slowly toward her, hesitantly, as if she was a spooked horse who might bolt. Finally, the black leather toes of his boots appeared at the edge of her vision. He approached carefully, stopped a few feet away, and sat down, making a point to stay out of arm’s reach. Despite his jaunty statement about her ability to hurt him, she still wondered absently if he was staying away from her because he thought she might attack. For some obscure reason, the idea bothered her; her heart twisted at the notion that he didn't trust her.
How absurdly hypocritical
, she thought.

              “Can we talk?” He asked politely. She nodded miserably. His voice took on a slightly chiding note, but otherwise remained patient. “Will you look at me?”

              She hesitated, twisting her hands in her lap, but finally admitted to herself that if she was going to stay, she couldn’t gloss over the incident. Especially, she thought ruefully, since she was still acting like a kicked puppy. She couldn’t seem to help her behavior, but still-- she knew that in her panic, she’d kicked and bitten him quite a few times. She owed him some answers, at least.

              She knew she was biting her lip again, and she was blinking quickly, the salt from her tears making her eyes sting. She longed for her usual composure, but reaching for it felt like grasping at smoke. Finally, she let out a tight breath, forced her shoulders down, and raised her chin, making herself look into his eyes.

              What she saw there startled her. She was expecting-- was used to-- confusion, pity, disbelief, judgment, or outright accusation. Instead, he looked kind―patient, sad, gentle, and
kind
. “What are you thinking?” She blurted out.

              He blinked. “Not that you’re crazy, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He answered immediately, then paused, looking her over, and sighed. “I was thinking that the games I play are for fun. A little fear, a little pain, adds a nice spice to things. But the look on your face… I didn’t want that. I don’t ever want to see that again.” He hesitated again, seeming to come to a decision. “I was hoping you would tell me what I did to scare you so much. At the point where you panicked, I thought you wanted what we were doing as much as I did.”

              Her brow knitted as she frowned. “You…” She trailed off, thinking for a moment. “You didn’t do anything.”

              He made a quiet, frustrated sound. “Now what are you thinking?” He asked, and Elise thought he was trying very hard to continue being patient. She swallowed hard but stamped down on the bubbling fear in the pit of her stomach.

              “You mean you don’t know?” She asked incredulously. “You always seem to know what I’m thinking.”

              “Usually, you’re very honest―I can read you easily. But you’re so closed off right now, I can’t tell anything for sure.” He made his frustrated noise again, a hissing little growl between his teeth. “I mean, don't get me wrong, I always knew you were hiding something... but I didn't expect...” He trailed off, looking regretful and at the same time a little confused. "When I was holding you just now, I could read you so clearly."

              She shrugged, fidgeting self-consciously with the long strands of her hair. "I was calm then- it was relaxing, in an odd way, having to trust you like that."

              "So when you panicked..." He trailed off, waiting for her to fill in the blank. The memory of her outburst made her feel cold, isolated and distant, but she answered anyway.

              "Then I was remembering," she said hollowly.

              "Remembering what?" When she didn't respond, he looked straight into her eyes with that intensity that made her feel like he was stripping her bare. "Elise, whatever happened, it's over now- you're safe.”

              Her face twisted with bitter scorn. “That’s what everyone says. You have no idea,” she snapped harshly, her shoulders thrown back and a touch of her usual fire returning. “It’ll never be over.” She had never said it out loud before, and the statement was a realization for her. As the truth of it hit home, she deflated, her chin dropping and a sharp sob rocking her. “I’m never going to be able to move on.” She felt tears burning her eyes again and was suddenly tired of fighting, tired of being composed, tired of pretending that she had, in fact, gotten over it. Elise put her face in her hands and let herself cry.

              She felt Alex’s hands tentatively grasp her shoulders, but she didn’t pull away. If she was never going to get over the trauma, if every intimate moment for the rest of her life involved her being forced and used and destroyed, then she may as well accept that. And then suddenly, she was throwing herself into his arms and sobbing into his shirt. To his credit, Alex took the abrupt turn of events quite calmly, as though he had hysterical girls hanging on him all the time. He wrapped his arms around Elise, gently cradling her slight form, and rocked her back and forth.

              She cried until she didn’t have any tears left, bidding goodbye to the last vestiges of hope that she could have the sweet, romantic “happily ever after” that little girls are supposed to dream about. Then, without really meaning to but feeling so wrung out that she didn’t particularly care, Elise began to speak.

              “I was a freshman. It wasn’t at Willowdale―I transferred here after; I had to get away. My parents and I moved here from… well, it doesn’t matter, really. But at my old school, I played sports. Actually,” she choked out a chuckle. “I was quite popular-- fashionable, lots of friends, that sort of thing. Apparently it got me noticed.” Her voice deadened as she struggled to maintain her distance from the memory. “It wasn’t too far into the school year. I took a while one day, after field hockey practice, and I ended up the last one in the locker room. Some of the guys from the varsity soccer team were hanging out late, too…” She trailed off for a moment, gagging on the words, but she knew that she had to get them out. If she stopped talking now, she had the sense that she wouldn’t be able to start again, and suddenly, it was vitally important that she tell Alex this story. No one else had ever looked at her with the kindness that he had in his eyes, and she hadn’t realized how desperately she’d needed that.

              She took a deep breath. “There were five of them. The one stayed back and just watched, but the rest… They held me down and...” She swallowed and closed her eyes, forcing herself to say it. “They held me down and took turns raping me. By themselves, two at a time…” She heard Alex’s sharp intake of breath, but his hands were reassuring, squeezing her arm, stroking her hair, and now that she’d gotten the words out, she found that it was easier to continue. “They weren’t done with me yet when one of the gym teachers came in. He got them off of me; called the police… he saved me.” She felt Alex relax just a little next to her, thinking the story had a happy ending. If she hadn’t been so empty she might have felt sorry for him.

              “The police took me to the hospital, took my statement, did a rape kit―everything you’re supposed to do. My parents came, and I thought I was going to be okay. I stayed in the hospital for a few days… my dad wouldn’t listen to me, wouldn’t really look at me. He was so mad, but I thought it would pass. But he just kept talking to my mom, to the police, to the doctors―they all talked about me like I wasn’t even there.

              “Then they took me home, and the phone calls started. My best friend called first. She…” Elise swallowed again, surprised how much this in particular still hurt, even after three years. “She said she didn’t know who I was, supposed she hadn’t ever really known me. She said I was disgusting and trashy and she never wanted to talk to me again. How her parents thought she was a slut now, because she’d spent so much time with me, and how I’d ruined her life.” Elise’s voice broke, the betrayal unexpectedly raw, but kept going. The words were pouring out now, almost like they had a will of their own. “The rest of the calls were from my friends, saying much the same thing, or from other people, people I didn’t know as well, just calling me a whore. I finally figured out that the boys had gone back to school and told everyone that I had done it―had taken all five of them―willingly. That I’d set up the whole thing.”