Rage

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Kathy

I t’s too much. The sensory overload is drowning me.

The lights are too bright overhead, glaring spotlights shining their beams on walls full of printed expressions of my soul. The chatter is too loud, a multitudinous cacophony of voices that mean I can hear every single one, and yet hear nothing at all. The smell of overpowering perfume gags me, the dressed-up VIPs of Seattle wending their merry way through the hallowed halls of this artistic institution.

But I have to breathe through it, have to keep my smile in place, my tone friendly, my gestures welcoming.

Because my future hangs here in vivid color, framed for their viewing pleasure. If only they could comprehend how much of myself goes into each and every piece. The price tags could never reflect the glow of the inspiration, my ardent passion and true intent captured in every single square inch of brazen femininity.

They don’t care anyway. They’re here for the champagne, for the canapes, not for some silly woman who splashes her indecent thoughts on bare canvas.

I startle as a hand lands on my forearm, breaking into my thought process. It’s attached to a man, one around the same age as me, and one who I recognize from various citywide events.

“I like what you’ve done with your hair, Kath.”

“Um… Thank you, Greg. It’s… Thanks.” I don’t understand. It’s exactly the same shade of purple as it has been for a long time. Just faded a little, because I hadn’t had time to redo it before the opening.

“It always did suit you.”

His hand is still on my arm, and it’s making me feel uncomfortable. I bring mine up to my hair instead, running my fingers through the short strands.

Unfortunately, that causes him to move his to my back. My bare back, because the cocktail dress I borrowed from Lara’s wardrobe for tonight’s event drapes low down my spine. I draw in breath, tension in my posture as his thumb sweeps a little lower.

I take a step sideways, but he follows; too close, too near, too in my space to be comfortable.

“Could you… Do you mind stepping back a little?”

“Oh, come along, Katherine. I’m just complementing the artist on her exceptional work. A beautiful job, well done by its beautiful creator.”

He does move away a little though. It’s still not far enough for me to feel really happy, but then I am beginning to suspect that anywhere in this building wouldn’t feel far enough.

“If I can ask, what inspires you?”

I’m taken unaware by the question, too late to stop the flick of my eyes to Lara, laughing comfortably with the city mayor on the other side of this wide-open space.

“Ah. I might have known.” His hand comes back into contact with my skin, and I unsuccessfully repress a shudder. “The radiant wife . Such a happy couple.”

The amount of scornful disdain he manages to capture in that singular word is astounding. But I brush it off with certainty. “Yes. We’re very happy together, thank you.”

He laughs aloud, squeezing the meat of my hip where his hand lies. “There’s nothing happy going on in that bedroom though, you know what I mean?”

“I beg your pardon?” Did he—did he actually just say that to me?

“I think you just haven’t found the right guy yet.”

“Or maybe I just like women?” I’m more than shocked. I’m utterly reviled as I step away and turn on my heel without another glance at him.

Men are so gross.

I can feel his beady eyes on me still as I sweep back into Lara’s orbit. She pulls me to the side, out of full view, wrapping me in an embrace. Her hand comes up to rest on the dip of my back, effectively erasing the memory of his touch with a searing one of her own.

“This dress looks so good on you, Kath.”

I blush, knowing she’s right, but finding it hard to accept the praise. It’s a far cry from my usual outfits, much more exposed. But I wanted to look my very best for this night.

She leans in closer, bringing her ear next to mine; a whisper to her lover that’s for no-one else to overhear. “I love it when you wear my clothes, beautiful. Knowing you’re wrapped up like this, your body being caressed by a little piece of me… It’s all I ever want.”

“I love that you get so possessive.” It’s one of the things I adore about her, how she gets so determined to claim every inch of me when we make love. And she loves to tease me like this too.

Not that I would ever complain, because I love it too.

“Are you still drenched from earlier, my love? You get so wet, dripping all over my hand when I have my fingers holding your cunt, my thumb on your clit as you gasp my name. Only mine, always… I can still feel your muscles clamping against me, the look on your face as you ride your climax out on my palm ? —”

My breath is coming in short pants, my nipples pebbling as my skin breaks out in goosebumps, the feel of her lips on my neck stirring and stoking a fire in my lower belly again. “No fair, Lara, we’re in public!”

Her tongue trails a seductive line back up the edge of my jawline, lingering at the very corner of my lips before she kisses me, long and deep, her tongue claiming my mouth like it claimed my pussy only a few hours before.

She breaks off, pressing her forehead to mine, impassioned words further sparking the heat of my desire. “And you know I don’t care, my darling. This love we have—nothing can break us, you hear me?” Her hand grips my chin, forcing me to look her in the eyes—making me hear the words to the very depth of my core.

And I do. “I hear you, and I love you. I do. You have my whole soul.”

Lara hums against my lips, savoring my words. “I love you too. Listen, I need to go soon, but you stay and enjoy your moment, won’t you? This is your moment, my darling, and I’m so glad to have been able to share even a tiny piece of it with you.”

“Thank you. I-it’s a lot, but…”

“Shhh, silly goose. You deserve it. Now, promise me you’ll get a taxi home, okay?”

“I will.” And I do fully intend to. Although the walk isn’t a long one, it’s cold out this time of year.

The schmoozing continues into the night, the city’s wondrously wealthy inhabitants inspecting, critiquing, commenting on my work… But more importantly, they’re purchasing.

By closing time, I’ve not only sold a few large pieces, but I have some commission inquiries too. This has truly been the best opportunity I’ve had in a long time; and it’s all because of Lara pushing me.

She doesn’t understand how much she both drives and fulfills the creative passion in me; my muse, my mentor, my astounding partner—her will and determination to forge a career through this male dominated life is what feeds my artistic expressions.

It’s all about her, this exhibition; the juxtaposition of her inherent femininity. High flying business woman by day, ever-giving lover, kick-ass gamer and martial arts enthusiast the rest of the time. Strong and fierce in all her guises, she truly embodies the meaning of the words to me.

You’d never tell from the abstraction of the printing process, of course, but… I know the whole package behind the colorful chaos.

It’s later than I hoped by the time everyone has filed out of the gallery; darker and colder too, but the downtown vibe of Seattle is still abuzz with energy. I look at the queue for taxis, warring internally.

I promised, both myself and her, but… it’s already a little later than I really wanted to be.

It’s not that far.

I look at the route through the park which leads under the freeway. It’s well lit, for the most part, and I’ll just make sure to hurry through the bits where the shadows get a little darker.

It’ll be fine.

I will be fine.

But I wasn’t fine.

I get the words out somehow, through my tears, through the pain of having to remember it; to remember the way my breath fogged the air before his hand clamped down on my mouth, muffling my cries…

The quiet noises of the park around us, the heavy air promising rain…

Smelling the exhaust fumes of cars on the freeway, the feel of his clammy hand as he reached between my legs to rip off the fabric…

I want to forget it all, but I force the words out of my mouth; detached, senseless syllables speaking my truth.

I didn’t cheat. I just didn’t want to remember.

I can’t look at her when I finish speaking.

I just can’t bring myself to see the look of disgust that I’m sure has taken over her face.

I stare at the comforter, my eyes fixed on the single twisted thread that’s pulled loose from the rest. A metaphor for my current state, plucked from the whole and beginning to unravel.

The silence between us stretches out a breath too long, two heartbeats past uncomfortable. She is the first to break it though; mainly because I have few words left, just my silent sobs.

“Holy fuck, Kathy. Why didn’t you tell me?”

I urge the words to come forth, pouring out of me in a torrent of anxiety through the flood of tears that stain me. “Because I was ashamed. Defiled. Abused. Because I didn’t want—because if I said it, if I told anyone, it would make it real and I just wanted to forget and move on. I didn’t want to think about it, to feel dirty, broken… I didn’t want to feel ugly.”

She takes my face in her hands, one on either cheek, looking directly at me. “You’ll never be ugly to me, you’re the most beautiful soul. Please don’t think that about yourself, darling.”

My eyes hurt, my head hurts, my heart hurts—for us. What left of us, now that I’ve been broken apart? “He made me feel ugly, Lara. Because—Because he put that thing in me, and…” I break off again, because I know she understands. I don’t like it, never liked the feeling of anything inside me, penetrating me.

A fresh wave of sobs overtakes me, and she clutches my limp bones to her chest, cradling me in her soft warmth.

Her voice resonates through me, spoken against the strands of my hair and felt right through her breast, each utterance taking me in its grip with her firm tone. “I love you, Katherine. I love you; do you hear what I’m saying? I can’t… You didn’t have to bear this burden alone though. If you’re hurting, then I am too, sweetness, don’t you know that? You are a part of me, and we’re in this together, always. And whatever… Whatever he did to you, you’re still mine.”

I look at her, twisting my body to kneel up and place a soft kiss on her lips. Reassurance, comfort, safety—that’s what she’s always been to me, whenever the doubts start to strike and the fear creeps in. “I am. Always.”

We stay like that for one second, two… Nose to nose, breathing in each other’s air, holding our space together.

I’m calmer now, and so is she, having declared and affirmed ourselves once more. But the questions… The questions are still there on her familiar features, brown eyes expressive in their desire for comprehension.

“But why? I still don’t understand. Why didn’t you feel like you could talk to me about any of this?”

“The Garcia account; you were so stressed about it. And you had to fly out that morning, so I couldn’t put more pressure on you.”

“You didn’t tell me you were assaulted by a man because you were worried about some fucking work thing? You thought that was more important than you being fucking raped , Kath? How… How did it get to this?”

“I don’t…” I can barely hear my own voice, because I don’t know. Or… Maybe I do. “It wasn’t just that. I knew you’d react like this, you’d?—”

“Like what?”

exactly like this; my avenging angel…

I take her in, looking up at her defensive posture, poised for battle, ready to burn down the world to right this wrong… It’s always been her way. She fights hard to protect the things she loves, and I truly love that about her. But I can’t handle it being turned on me.

“This… This anger, Lara. I knew you’d be angry at the whole thing, at the—at the world for even daring. It’s one of the things I love about you, that I’ve always loved about you, but sometimes, you can be a little… scary.”

I trail off as she collapses in on herself, deflating at my word choice. “Scary? I?—”

“Intimidating, then. Just… sometimes. And—and I know it’s you, and you have to be like that sometimes, and you always mean well, but…”

“Oh, Kath.” She pulls me back into her lap again, holding me, piecing me back together with every synchronized breath. She only breaks her hold to send a message to work, telling them she’s staying home today.

For me.

For us.

But it seems she doesn’t intend to rest on her laurels about anything.

“C’mon. Get dressed.” She takes my arm, the strength in her grip not granting me permission to refuse.

“Where are we going?”

“To the station. Kath, you—we need to report this, darling.”

“To the cops? No way.” I’m horrified. I could barely tell Lara, my safe space; how can she expect me to recount it again —and to the corrupt and misogynistic patriarchy of the police force, none the less?

But she won’t take no for an answer.

My breathing is shaky as she marches us up to the front desk, pure terrified adrenaline coursing through my veins in fight or flight.

I know my preferred option, but Lara still has a vise-like grip on my arm. She is all fight.

“We’re here to report a sexual assault.”

The words sound, the conversation continues to unfold before me, but all I hear is that single word.

Assault. Ass ault. Ass ault .

It doesn’t make sense. It resounds in my thoughts, clouding everything, the foreign syllables clanging, thumping, resonating in my head. I only realize we’ve been moved to an interview room when Lara’s voice sounds in my ear, her gentle urging the only thing that can seemingly cut through the turmoil of ensuing panic.

“Sit down, love.”

I do, my gaze drifting up from the wood topped table to be met with a burly gray-haired cop opposite me who sets all my instincts on edge. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to listen to some whiny lesbian churning out some woe is me story for the #MeToo movement.

That hits me hard; I’m part of a statistic now, the 1 in 4 who can say that, the survivors who walked away.

I don’t feel like I walked away.

I don’t feel like I’m surviving right now. Not really. I just feel… used. Ab used. Wrong.

You’re asking for it, dressed like that…

I’ll show you what you’re missing out on…

Stop screaming! Brats get what they deserve…

Proof is in the pussy, bitch, you’re soaked for me…

“Kath.”

Lara takes hold of my hand, her touch bringing me out of my wide-eyed trance. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Tell him what happened; what he did to you.”

The guy—Officer Larson, his name badge declares—has his pen out, a clean sheet of paper in front of him with my name on. “Start whenever you’re ready.”

I’m not though. I’m really not ready to tell it all again, to say the words out loud one more time to a stranger. My stomach heaves, a coppery tinged taste fills my mouth… I make it to the trash can just in time to empty my breakfast into it.

Lara’s there, rubbing my back, guiding me back to my chair. The big cop is still staring impassively, not a trace or shred of emotion in his gaze at my trembling, cowed, volatile shell.

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care what happened to me on some cold, dark night. I’m just a woman—a gay woman at that. I hold no interest to him, so he holds no thought or space for me and mine.

Lara is insistent though, squeezing my hand tight but determined that I get my story told; that I spill my guts and my heart and my pain in some bleak bare room to this callous and dispassionate uniform.

So, I do, because she wants me to. I rebuild my walls, trip out the robotic words; recounting my steps, my words, my actions— but not my emotions. And I think I do well, because I only start to cry at his reply.

“Do you have any proof?”

Lara is incensed, enraged—I don’t need proof, I shouldn’t have to, my word is my proof… But I shush her, because I can get proof.

DNA proof.

But not yet.

“I… I’m pregnant.”

inhale, one two three, exhale, one two three …

I can’t stop the tears from falling. I feel like I’ve done more crying in the past few hours than I have done in weeks. But I didn’t want to let it in, because now… it just feels far too real.

The cop rubs the back of his neck, his tarnished silver pen tapping at my attacker’s name on the lined paper notepad. The blot of warring indecision crosses his brow, a small bead of sweat appearing as he deliberates my story.

Not a story.

My truth.

I know it to be the truth. But truth can really fucking hurt.

“Well, I guess all I can do is file this for now. Until you can get some proof. ”

He says it like I can’t; like I won’t; like it isn’t true.

Or maybe it’s just that it doesn’t matter to him anyway.