The Good Girl (14 page)

“Then how did you know how children were conceived? Why, at 6, did you know something so complex as to the physical nature of human beings?”

Another sick laugh bubbled up her throat. “Because I got to watch porn.”

I remained silent, waiting for her to continue without prodding her along.

“My parents didn’t stock the house with Disney cartoons, so I watched the only thing they had. Porn. They never knew and I didn’t know it was wrong – so I never said anything. I figured out that’s where kids come from because my grandmother told me one day when I asked her about it when I was over at her house.”

“Why didn’t your grandmother help you? Didn’t she know what they were doing to you?”

“Who do you think taught my mom everything she knew?” Her hands continued to play along the frayed edge of the sheet and I noticed that her tears had finally dried. She sighed, long and hard before continuing. “In all honesty, my grandmother wasn’t so bad. She was too old to keep at the hard partying lifestyle and she genuinely cared about what happened to me. I didn’t tell her the bad stuff, the way they hit me or the endless nights without food, heat or a bath. I hid that stuff because I didn’t want her to hate me for it. I looked at the time I spent with her as peaceful and I didn’t want to ruin it by admitting how fucked up things were at home.” A sad smile graced her full lips. “She actually did shit like pour me cereal and she bought me packaged cookies. She never baked them …” A real laugh escaped her chest. “… Now THAT would have been pushing it if she actually baked the cookies, but she had no problem giving me the store bought kind.”

“What happened to her?”

Sadness fell over her expression when she added, “Grammy died when I was in my teens, so I was pretty much left on my own after that. I had no other choice but to latch onto whoever would take me … friends, boyfriends, random people that would take care of me until I could take care of myself.”

“And they did this without asking anything in return?”

“No. They got theirs. Trust me.”

I brushed my hand over her shoulder to test how much contact she would grant me. When she didn’t move away, I leaned against the headboard, laying my head back to stare at the ceiling.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Eleni. It helps me understand better.”

“Understand what?”

I pushed myself up while blowing out a deep breath. Reaching my hand out to her, I wordlessly requested she take it so that we could move back into the bathroom. She stared at my hand for a few seconds, most likely wondering why I wanted her to get up. When she finally took it, she shifted on the bed and held the sheet to her body as she rose from the mattress. When she was standing, I shook my head and motioned towards where she held the sheet over her skin.

“Drop it.”

Her eyes widened and her bottom lip quivered. It was as if I could hear her thoughts simply by watching the expression on her face. Disbelief, shame, bitterness and then acceptance. She dropped the sheet, allowing it to fall and puddle at her feet on the floor. Her arms came up to shield her nudity, but I reached over, grabbing her wrists and placing her arms at her side.

“It’s time for you to see yourself for who you are.”

Leading her into the bathroom, I listened as her bare feet padded gently behind me. Once we’d entered the room, I turned and indicated for her to stand in front of the full length mirror that was set into the wall. Her eyes glanced up at me, confusion obvious in the expression on her face.

“I want you to stand in front of the mirror, Eleni.”

Her jaw moved as if she were going to reply, but, after a few moments of silence, she reconsidered speaking and chose instead to move to stand where I’d told her to go.

Shrugging her shoulders, she looked at her reflection, slowly lifting her arms to circle around her breasts and abdomen. I stood behind her and reached around to, once again, pull her arms down to the sides of her body.

Her eyes closed, but then opened again – moisture glistening from her unshed tears.

“Tell me, Eleni…” I grabbed her chin and forced her focus on the woman in the mirror. “…What do you see?”

Chapter Twenty-Three

~ Eleni ~

I stood in front of the mirror eyeing my tattered body. His words continued to echo through my head asking me what exactly it was that I saw. I didn’t want to tell him my thoughts because I’d already told him far too much already. I was too raw, too open for my own good and nothing good would ever come of the way he’d exposed me.

“Eleni, I asked you a question.” His sharp tone told me he was annoyed with my silence.

I hadn’t realized how long I stood there eyeing my naked body in the mirror and getting lost in my own mind. Thinking of ways to put him off, get him to drop the question that was lingering between us; but, now I knew that wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t going to give up on hurting me until there was nothing left of me. In a way, he was almost worse than my parents; especially since he used this disguise of actually caring about me.

“I see a broken piece of shit. I’m fat, and ugly. I have too many curves and too many scars.” I replied with a matter-of-fact tone, silently praying he wouldn’t be upset with my flippant reply.

“Eleni, I’m not talking about your looks,” his hand runs along my hip, slowly tracing upwards until his finger brushes the side of my breast. “It doesn’t matter if you’re fat … or ugly. You just need to learn what true beauty is.”

True beauty isn’t me; that’s for damn sure. I was frustrated with his questioning and confused as to what he wanted me to say. From the reflection I could see his grimace behind me.

“I don’t understand your question, Gabriel.” I was honest despite my fear of him. I didn’t want to provoke him or answer wrong. He was being gentle, even it was just a short lapse in his own sanity. Two different people – I always had to remember that he was two different people. My cooperation appeared to be the factor that determined which person was present inside him.

“It’s not that difficult, Eleni. When you look at yourself, what kind of a person do you see?” He was getting upset again. He was angry with me and I knew I should start anticipating whatever was going to come from that point forward. Oddly, after realizing how to deal with him, I wasn’t as scared anymore.

“I see a failure. A drunk. A whore. I see a leech, someone who could never take care of herself. I see someone without a future. Someone with no friends or family. I see someone who is unloved and will end up alone for the rest of her life. I see a broken woman. A new generation of loser, because my genetics cursed me from the start.” Tears rolled down my face as I confessed everything I never wanted to face about myself. “I don’t know what else to say, Gabriel. You know how I see myself. I know how I see myself.” Except this time, instead of being numb to the feelings my own opinion would cause, they were cutting me like a knife.

Tears start to pool in my eyes for the hundredth time, I hadn’t cried in years and it was starting to be a bit much. My head pounded from the emotional stress I’d continued to keep at bay with whiskey for so long.

“Eleni, only you can change those things.” I was snapped from my thoughts as he stepped behind me and wrapped his warm arms around my body. “I’m trying to show you what I see, if you would just stop fuckin’ fighting me. I cannot promise you anything, but that you will be better off in the end.”

“Gabriel, can I ask you something without you being upset with me?” I was overstepping my boundaries, but the more time I spent with him, the more brazen I was becoming. Maybe I just felt hopeless finally. I didn’t know if I would ever see the light of day again, so why not try and pick his brain?

He was quiet as he stood behind me and considered my question. His eyes burned into mine through the reflection in the mirror that stood before us. Finally, slowly, he responded, “You may.”

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?” I held my breath while I waited for his answer.

“No, Eleni. You’re not beautiful. Not like this, and not right now.” His response cut like a knife while his hand traced the curves of my body before he stepped around me so we could be face-to-face. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see his face when he spoke whatever nasty message he was about to deliver. My eyes fell to the floor as his hands continued to roam across my skin. A chill ran over me and I wished that he would have just taken me on the bed, only moments before. His touch ignited something within me that I needed. Not even my fear of him could smother the desire I had. I realized that when he’d called me a whore, he’d been right – I couldn’t say no, I wouldn’t say no. I wanted him – regardless of his abuse – I wanted what he could give me.

“You can be beautiful, Eleni You will be beautiful when I’m done. And you will be mine when you are.” His words sent a chill down my spine once again – the sensation making me feel like a whore. The whore that I was. The whore I would always be. Instead of wanting love and a happy ending, I only wanted his body; his cock to feast on me or to feel him deep inside my used cunt.

Little girls dream of a day when they will live happily ever after with a man who will cherish them and love them. I gave up on that dream long ago. There was no Prince Charming for me, I’d only been afforded the villains in my life.

“Do you think I will ever be beautiful, Gabriel?” His hands continued to explore my body, his fingers pinching my nipples, bringing them to life as I felt his breath on my ear.

“You are on your way there, can’t you feel my desire for you to be beautiful?” He pressed his erection up against my leg as he pulled my earlobe into his mouth, biting lightly with his teeth.

“One day you will be worthy.”

Without another word, he left me standing in the bathroom, still looking at myself in the mirror completely naked, wondering would happen next. Would he hurt me? How would he make me beautiful? What other cruelties could he inflict and my mind and my body.

It was a moment when the mystery of it all was just too much to bear.

Chapter Twenty-Four

~ Gabriel ~

It was wrong and I had to walk away before things were pushed too far, too quickly. I wanted that girl – my cock slammed against the zippered enclosure of my pants and walking was made more difficult by the swell of blood between my legs. But, despite what the fucking voices told me and despite what my body demanded, there was still a part of me that knew if I fucked her, my entire scheme would be ruined because I’d go soft. I wouldn’t be able to break her because I would allow myself to care.

I wondered if she would follow me when I left the room. When she didn’t, it spoke to what I already knew about her. She was a woman taken captive – forced to not only prance around naked, but cut so deeply that she would bleed out every insufferable detail of her life. I knew she hid from those things and I knew why. What she didn’t know was why it all mattered.

Why would she want to follow me? To her, I was nothing more than a crazed man who’d taken from her and hurt her once I had her trapped. She was smart not to follow and, for once, it made me think that she was choosing differently – that she was thinking differently – that she was caring more for her own survival than about the tough image she wore every damn day of her life.

I’ll admit – at times, I’d lost sight of the point in what I’d done. However, having walked away, I remembered. She needed to be broken, she needed to be saved and I needed her to continue living even when I could not.

My hand reached out and within seconds I’d started the music that would silence the violence in my head. Nobody could understand what it was like always having bloodthirsty demons whispering in your thoughts. I’d learned to ignore them long ago, but there were times when their needs and their desires screamed so loudly that I feared the only way to silence them was to act out whatever it was they were demanding. I’d done it before – hurt people just for the purpose of causing pain – and those screams turned to laughter and then to silence. The silence was welcomed and I would hurt again to keep them at bay.

I was hospitalized with each occurrence. I never mentioned the voices – never wanted some doctor to see the problem for what it was; but they always saw it anyway. They blamed the crash, the resulting head injury and the loss of my parents for my behavior – believed I was acting out as a result of anger, depression – or they believed I’d been teased for my scars. They labeled me a ‘schizophrenic’ from early on attempting to medicate me regardless of whether I wanted the pills or not. My aunt worked hard to protect me. She was always watching over me. But even she didn’t know the true extent of that damage that the crash had caused.

She learned eventually that music would help me. In her mind, it was a distraction – her homage to the belief that music soothed the beast. She believed that, maybe, my mind moved too fast and frustrated me to the point of violence. Whereas, she was correct in that music did help – she didn’t know that it was because it only served to drown out the whispers and words, the visions of evil that resonated in my head until there was no other choice but to do what they wished in order to silence them.

And now, using the same method my aunt had used for so many years to help me, I helped myself. It was working … until …

“Gabriel?”

She mocks you. She’s not afraid. She still tries to rule you…

“Gabriel?”

You’re ugly. You’re scarred…. A monster she’ll reject after she scream...

“Eleni – go back in the room.”

“But …”

She laughs at you. End her. You’re stronger than her. You can hurt her – silence her …

“I just wanted to see where you went, I don’t like …”

She doesn’t want you. You had to steal her. She brushed you aside…

“being alone…”

“ELENI! Go!” I begged.

She wouldn’t listen. When I opened my eyes to find her standing in the doorway to the living room, my hands fisted and my teeth ground shut. She was temptation – pure, sinister and intense – the temptation to end the whispers, the screams. It would only take a second – the snap of her neck, the sound of her gasping for air, the look on her face when my hands were wrapped around her throat.