Chapter 15 Don’t Touch Her
Like hell, the agony was unending, inexplicable and severe.
Fighting for breath, I had to survive every excruciating second of his sick cravings.
There was nothing else I could do, no other choice but to endure being used by him.
I wanted to die, but my body insisted on fighting to live.
Every additional second of it broke me a thousand times more.
Stooooooooooooooooooop!
My voices were nowhere to be found. Even they had abandoned me.
I was more alone than ever and could hear and feel everything much clearer than ever before.
My skin was more sensitive to his touch than it had ever been to anything else.
His gross heavy breaths, grunts, moans entered my mind freely and stayed there.
The one time I would have been grateful for the voices, for their ability to numb me, semi-deafen me, and distract me, they’d disappeared.
Stooooooop! Stooooooop! I screamed over and over as he hurt me to pleasure himself. He winced and his muscles tensed. The only complete thought I could form was more of an emotion than anything else, a desperation for him to stop.
He murdered my soul in every way possible again and again, but somehow, I was condemned to keep living.
He tore my thoughts into shreds until they made even less sense than ever before.
My soul and too much of my sanity were shattered until my body acted on its own, and every thought gave into the chaos of pure horror and pain.
I was somewhere else and there at the same time.
I was bits of myself but a stranger, and all I knew was there was no way she would ever love me again.
I was losing her more and more; every minute, she got farther away.
Then he finished, got off the bed, and walked out of the room the same way he’d come in. He’d ripped me apart and left as if it had been nothing. I thought it was over. I thought I’d be relieved and free once he stopped, that I’d feel better.
I didn’t.
It was inexplicably worse. Though he was no longer hurting or touching me, I was still in pain in every way. I could still physically feel him. Every cell of my mind, in my body, felt him, but he wasn’t there. The excruciating agony persisted though the one inflicting the torture was gone.
It hurt to breathe. Where before, I couldn’t have a complete thought, after, I wondered why anyone would do this to me. I searched in my memory for the reason, anything I had done that could justify what he’d done to me.
In using me for his amusements, he’d contaminated me with something disgusting and undefinable. Permanently.
Another one of them walked up to the edge of the bed and dropped his robe. I wanted to scream no, but all I could do to communicate my horror and rejection was to breathe harder, faster. That did nothing. He, too, climbed onto the bed.
Kill me now! Mommy, please… I can’t… Not again! Not again!
Not again! Not again! Not again! Not again! Not again! Not again! Not again! Not again!
A horrifying screech filled my ears, and everything froze. It took me too long to realize the scream wasn’t coming from somewhere else, it was coming from inside me.
***
The very next day, I opened my eyes, and the bright morning sun blinded me. Blood, and pain throbbed beneath the bandage wrapped around my hand, and also from several places on my body, including my head.
I gasped at the sight of the bandage. The realization something awful had happened cemented itself in my mind. I searched my memories, but they seemed to be locked away, out of reach. I remembered Uncle telling me to drop the mirror. That’s it. Oh my God, what have I done this time? What did I do?
The elk-headed men… They entered the room. The image came to the surface of my mind. They’d been there.
It hadn’t been a dream. Right?
It’s all real.
“What is?” I asked. “What happened? What did I do?”
You know what you did.
“Nooooo,” I sobbed. “Please no.” I violently gagged, and it weakened me further. No matter how much I cried, I didn’t feel better.
I needed to see the only good thing left in my life—my angel.
I could barely walk. My thigh muscles ached so badly I hissed.
My body hurt in places I’d never thought much of, and the world swirled with every step, bringing nausea.
It was all as it had been when I’d had that sickness weeks before.
In the bathroom, I tried vomiting; to push out whatever toxic chemicals were ailing me.
It was hard to keep up with everything I needed to do because the image of those elk-headed men leeched into my mind and dragged me back into every detail up until Uncle had slammed my head against the tile.
I thought I’d had another episode. Men with elk heads? What the feck?
After failing to vomit, I found the broken mirror, confirming what I remembered. There were pieces of it missing.
I showered, hoping the steam would help me recuperate. There were bruises on my arms, fingerprints in green, yellow, and purple. They’d pinned me down too harshly. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the red water falling from my body to the tub.
Eventually, the water turned icy cold and woke me from the trance I’d fallen into.
Earlier that day, when I had first opened my eyes, I couldn’t stop weeping, but by the time I finished showering, I was numb.
My body was doing everything on its own; I wasn’t really there.
It was a foreign sensation, being dead yet somehow functioning.
I wanted everything to go back to the way it was before.
I knew in my soul seeing her would bring me back to life, so there was no way I’d risk missing school.
Something in the back of my mind kept telling me I’d done something wrong, something very bad, but I had no idea what.
I just wanted to get the hell out of the house.
I had a feeling if I didn’t, I never would again.
As I walked through the halls then peeked at the floor below me, for the first time, it was not only naked bodies I saw.
“Hurry the hell up before that kid wakes up!” one of them said to the others.
Security was dragging unconscious women out the door and leaving trails of blood behind.
I’d never seen this, but then again, they hadn’t been this late to cleaning up the party since Uncle beat me to a pulp for taking pictures of his disgusting friends. How long had this been happening?
I hurried back to my room, but with the pain and weakness I was enduring, I almost vomited in the hall instead of my bathroom. Afterward, I crept up to the third floor, to Mum’s room, opened the door, and found her lying on her bed, belly down.
What if she, too, wasn’t alive? I walked over to her and let out a sigh of relief when her back moved with every breath. “Mum…”
Even though she was knocked out, I wanted to talk to her.
At first, I flushed out my thoughts, planning how I would tell her.
Mum… when you wake up… can we pleeeeease just leave this place?
Please? I beg you, let’s just get out of here.
I don’t feel good, Mommy. I haven’t felt good in so long, but…
this is different. Things are getting worse.
I’m feeling empty, hopeless, stripped. Please.
Let’s just leave here. I thought I could stay for her, because of her, but I can’t take this anymore.
I can’t. With the sleeve of my shirt, I wiped tears that’d escaped my eyes.
“Mum…” I called and nudged her. “Mum, please wake up. We need to talk.” She didn’t react at all, and I had to admit, part of me lost all courage to tell her anything pretty quickly. That’s why I didn’t try harder to wake her and left after a few minutes.
I walked through the halls then down the stairs. When I reached my floor, I saw Uncle Ricard at the door to my bedroom from the steps. I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t notice me, but by the way he twisted his head to look at me, I knew he’d sensed my presence.
He stepped away from the room and took two steps toward me while opening his arms. “Killian,” he called, then a fake smile filled his face. “Come. We need to talk.”
I froze, and a memory from the previous night crashed into me. “That’s right, Killian, it’s not real. You’re safe.” It’s what he’d said to me while the monsters undressed me. I saw them walk to me, corner me. It didn’t happen. It was all a bad dream.
Ticktock.
It’s time to run. Ticktock. Ticktock. Ticktock. Ticktock.
Ticktock. Ticktock. Ticktock. Ticktock.Run. Run. Run.
Ruuuuuunnnnnnnn!!!!!!!
“Noooo!” I screamed at the same time as the voice, then ran down the stairs to the front of the house.
Thank God the chauffeur was already waiting for me in the car.
I practically jumped into the vehicle. “Alle, Alle, Alle!” I kept yelling once inside, but instead, the door opened again and my uncle came in.
“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” I couldn’t stop screaming and trying to crawl to the other side of the car after he’d gotten hold of my ankle.
The door was child locked. No matter how many times I tried to open it and kick at his hold I couldn’t escape.
It’s not like I had much energy. Within seconds I was limp and trying to catch my breath, squeezing my eyes shut so that the dizziness would not force me to vomit again.
He released my leg and readjusted his jacket and sitting.
On his side, the door had been slammed shut after he sat across from me.
I pushed myself into the corner farthest from him, but even then, we were too close to each other.
The car became stiflingly hot, as if someone had taken out all the air and set it on fire.
The image of myself cornered in the shower the night before blinked in my mind.
I was as scared in the car as I had been then.