9. Delilah
DELILAH
Every movement Pastor John made, I was aware of. My senses zeroed in on him as he circled around me making me feel like he was a shark and I was his unfortunate prey. My skirt was still bunched up, and my hands were bound behind me by his belt.
“What am I going to do with you, Eve? You come in late, act insubordinate, and have the audacity to look like that,” he said coming into my field of vision. As he looked down at me, I could see him loosening his tie, his eyes tracking my body.
It felt like slime coating my skin as he stared at me so openly.
The door was shut and no one would be coming in here for another forty or so minutes.
This was Pastor John’s free period, and I already knew that no one would come looking for me.
I swallowed hard around a lump that had formed in my throat.
“I—I’m sorry,” I managed to whisper, even though I wasn’t the least bit sorry. I hadn’t even been late, but it fit his narrative to say so.
“Not yet you’re not, but you’ll learn to be.”
I didn’t know what he meant by that. It sounded like a threat, and before I had a moment to contemplate it, he was crouching down next to me.
I could smell him and it soured my already sensitive stomach.
Vomit clawed up my esophagus, threatening to spill over as one of his hands found the hem of my skirt.
The other wrapped around the tale of my ponytail, rubbing the hair between his thumb and forefinger.
“Such beautiful hair.” He shuddered in a breath as he pushed the fabric of my skirt up, exposing me even more than I already was. My brain buzzed. What the hell was he doing?
“Such a temptation,” he murmured as tears gathered in my eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you to turn seventeen. Waiting to get you alone. I’ve seen the way you look at me. You want me just like I want you.”
No, no, no.
His touch was all wrong. And he was delusional. Waiting until I was the age of consent was ridiculous when I was clearly not consenting.
“Please, Pastor John. I’m so sorry. I have to get to class,” I begged, feeling like if I reminded him that we were in his classroom and at school, he might stop whatever it was he was doing. I didn’t want his hands on me. Didn’t want him looking at me like he was.
But speaking to him was clearly a mistake because the moment the words were out of my mouth, rage coated his blue eyes. Eyes that on even a good day, looked soulless.
I realized my mistake too late and felt the sting of his hand on my sore behind as he hit me in the exact spot his yard stick had. It burned and a yelp escaped my throat which seemed to excite him. When he moved, I caught sight of his pants, and my stomach dropped.
He was hard.
Dread burrowed deep inside my chest as I realized what was happening.
He was on me in an instant, ripping my underwear clean off my body. I could feel the air on my skin and smell his coffee scented breath.
The sound of his zipper undoing filled the empty classroom and fat wet tears streamed down my cheeks. No, fuck, no, please, my brain screamed.
“Please stop,” I begged, knowing that it would only make him angrier, but my voice was all I had. My legs were too numb to move, and my hands were still bound. I couldn’t fight him off, no matter how much I wanted to .
“I know you want this,” I heard him say. But I didn’t.
And then I felt him, and my brain stopped processing all feeling. Only aware of the screams that came out of my mouth till my throat was raw.
“Shut the fuck up and take your punishment,” He smacked the back of my head so hard I saw stars and black crept in the sides of my vision. “This is what you get for making me want you. You dress and act like a whore, you’ll get treated like one.”
His words didn’t make any sense. I dressed in the same outfit as all the other girls. But this wasn’t about my outfit. This was about him and his twisted, rotten soul.
I don’t know how long I was assaulted for. It felt like I disassociated from my own body, focusing only on my breath and the low buzz of the fluorescent lights before the door burst open and he was yanked off me.
Someone had come. Someone had heard me.
The moment he was no longer in me, I gasped, sobbing so hard that I felt my body begin to shake.
“Help. Help me! Please!” I screamed, tears and snot pouring down my face.
I could hear a fight breaking out behind me with grunts and what sounded like fists meeting bone.
Shoes squealed across the tiled floor, and I pulled at my restraints hoping that it would break.
But the leather belt was wrapped too tightly, and it was no use.
My legs were fully numb now and my head was spinning.
From the hits, the position, or the enormity of what had happened to me— I wasn’t sure the exact cause, but I couldn’t catch my bearings.
My breath came in short, desperate pants as I lay there completely helpless, and irrevocably broken.
“Hey! The hell is going on in here?” A booming male voice that I was having a hard time placing said, rushing into the room. Suddenly, there were several teachers and students filling the hallway outside, some pushing in.
“Call the ambulance. He’s hurt. Badly.”
Who was hurt?
“What happened in here?” That male voice again .
Two pairs of shoes stood in front of my face and then the restraints were blissfully removed with a tug. Vomit heaved from my stomach, and this time there was no stopping it.
What had been my breakfast was now all over the floor. Yellow runny eggs in a film of bile sat in a heap, making my stomach feel like it was going to pitch again at the sight of it. Shoes that were frayed at the toes nearly stepped right into the vomit.
My inner monologue said something about how unfortunate that would have been, but I couldn’t hold onto the thought. My brain felt like mush.
When I was able to look up, I saw that they belonged to the principal, who looked none too happy to see me. He was the same bastard that had dropped me off in my room that first night here. All business and annoyance, like me being assaulted by one of his employees was an inconvenience.
“Cover yourself up,” he said with a sneer, but my arms and legs weren’t working. I felt like dead weight. Numb, but at the same time so full of overwhelming amounts of pain.
The school nurse, Jane, came in, pushing past the crowd of people who’d gathered at the scene of my most humiliating and gut-wrenching moment of my life.
“Can you stand?” she asked, pulling my skirt down for me.
That small gesture broke something in me and the tears came out even harder now.
I heard my throat crack and then a wail that was lodged deep inside my chest came barreling out of my mouth.
She’d been the only soul at this school who seemed to give a shit about what happened to us.
Though she was just as scared of the authorities here as I was.
“He— he,” I couldn’t form the words. I couldn’t stop feeling him all over me. I wanted to run. To flay my own skin off my body from where he’d touched me. I wanted to watch him burn for what he did to me.
“Shh, we’ll get you all fixed up,” she soothed.
Her kindness felt so out of place in this fucked up school, where cruelty was its currency and words were commonly used as weapons. “Come on, now. Let’s get you up. Do you mind if I touch you?”
I nodded my head and let her grip my arm .
Jolts of pain sliced into my nerves as feeling began to come back into my extremities as I stood with the nurse’s help.
It hurt, and I couldn’t seem to stop shaking.
Nurse Jane’s touch felt like too much. While she meant well, I didn’t want anyone’s hands on me.
But I didn’t have much of a choice, since my body wasn’t cooperating without her assistance.
“That’s it,” she said in a calm voice. Both her eyebrows were furrowed.
They looked like the kind of eyebrows that were popular in the 90’s.
Thin and arched high. It was difficult to tell if she was a young thirties or mid-fifties, it could go either way and I wouldn’t have been surprised.
Focusing on her kind face helped to distract me from the horrific situation I now found myself in.
It hadn’t sunk in yet, what had just happened.
But Pastor John had been caught. The terror would finally end because someone saw.
Shock ebbed around my body and came in sharp, unexpected jolts.
My legs felt like Jell-O, and I wobbled as she let me lean my weight onto her small frame.
Wetness from my tears clung to my cheeks and made part of my hair damp.
So many pairs of eyes gawked at me as I stumbled out into the hall.
My feet slowly managing to drag as pins and needles stabbed my skin.
I felt like I was going to pass out, but I was ushered into the small nurse’s room where I curled up into a tiny ball on the cot and cried.
Sobs wracked through me as I let myself fall apart.
I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t let this place break me.
But here I was, utterly and irreparably broken.
“Don’t worry. They’re arresting him now,” Nurse Jane said, getting a blanket to cover me. My eyes took in the small room, focusing in on the peeling posters that were covered in cartoon characters and health tips.
They were arresting him. I took a deep and much needed breath knowing that he would be punished for what he’d done.
“He’ll be expelled of course. That Cain has always been trouble, but I can’t believe he’d do something like this.” The nurse shook her head and tsked loudly.
It felt like everything in my brain came to an immediate halt as I processed her words.
Did she say Cain was being arrested? “Wait, what?” I asked, sitting up too fast. The blanket fell from the bed to the floor and my head spun.
Cain hadn’t been the one to hurt me. Pastor John was.
Was Cain the one that had burst through the doors? He must have been.
“Shh. Lie down. Your parents will be here soon. You don’t have to worry.”
“But—”
“Nurse Jane, can you come here please? The police want to take your statement,” the principal stuck his head into the room, not even bothering to glance over at me. Fucking prick.
“Wait, I need to speak with them,” I urged, trying to stand. “Cain didn’t do anything wrong,” I rushed out. “He was trying to save me.”
Both the nurse and the principal looked at me then, their disdain evident. Twin pillars of confusion and disappointment.
“Oh dear, maybe she hit her head,” the nurse mused. “We’ll have the paramedics come take a look at you too.”
No. This couldn’t be happening.
My stomach churned again and I dry heaved. Nothing came out but a wet, heartbroken sob.
“But they’ve got the wrong person!” I managed to cry.
“You better sit down, you’re getting hysterical,” the nurse said, coming over to me and grabbing me by the arms. I tried to yank myself out of her grip, but I was still so weak. I went down onto the cot with a thud and heaved again, this time only bringing up bile.
“Make sure she cleans herself up,” the principal scoffed before leaving the room.
The nurse dabbed at my lips, frowning. Her gold chain necklace swung between us, and I watched as the cross came closer and went further away as she fussed over me. “I think a sedative might be in order,” she said to herself.
“No, please. I have to talk to them. I have to tell them what happened.”
“There, there. Pastor John already told them the whole thing. You’re safe now.”
She meant to comfort me, but her words incited nothing but terror. They believed him over me. My assailant. The man who raped me. And for what reason? Because he was a teacher and supposed man of God ?
I wasn’t safe. Not as long as Pastor John roamed free, and clearly no one wanted to hear what I had to say and that fact gutted me more than what I’d been put through.
Then there was Cain, who once again was paying the price for knowing me. For being the only person to ever stick up for me.
I had to find a way to right this. I had to.
Strength, I didn’t know I possessed took hold and I shoved myself off the cot and ran.
I ran past stunned students. Past the room where I was violated. Past the front desk where I was screamed at to stop. But there was no stopping me.
My hands were pushing the doors open without a thought to the consequences as I ran out.
That’s when I saw him. Our eyes connected across the parking lot as he was being pushed into the back of the police car.
“He didn’t do it! Please. Please don’t arrest him!” I called out.
Cain thrashed and held my gaze. The same one I’d seen countless times.
“Someone shut her up. She’s hysterical,” some man in a police uniform called out with his hands on his hips and Aviator sunglasses perched low on his nose.
“Please, you have to listen to me,” I said, feeling someone grab my arms. I yanked myself away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” I seethed.
“Restrain her. I can see why she needs to be reformed. The girl is clearly troubled,” that same, smug officer commented like I wasn’t standing right here.
“Delilah!” Cain said. “I’ll come for you. I promise.”
“Get the fuck in the car or I’ll use this taser on you,” the man who was wrestling with Cain said through clenched teeth.
“I promise,” he said again. “Red light!”
“Kid’s fucking crazy,” the officer said, shoving him into the vehicle.
I nodded, letting Cain know I heard him.
He’d used our code word. The one we’d established the night we broke into Pastor John’s classroom.
If we saw or heard anything suspicious, we’d use the word red light, and we’d stop what we were doing.
He wanted me to stop, even though all I wanted to do was run after him .
It felt like there was something more happening here, because the authorities were adamantly refusing to listen to me. They didn’t want to know the truth. Or worse. They already knew the truth but were willing to use Cain to cover it up.
He’d fought for me. He’d tried to stop it from happening and what did he get in return? A trip to the police station and an accusation of a crime he didn’t commit.
“Take me too,” I demanded. “I would like to make a statement on the record.”
“You watch too many movies, girl. Why don’t you get back inside, we have everything we need,” one of the officers said, dismissing me once again.
I realized then that nothing I did would make these people believe me. I just had to hope that somehow, Cain would find me like he promised and that someone would listen. They had to.