COUNTDOWN
M y father walks into the room, carrying a TV and a DVD player.
“Your mother refused, but it’s time for you to learn how to please a man.”
My heart pounds in my chest, and my body stiffens. Is he going to teach me? I don’t want him to do that to me. He told me he wouldn’t… so will he make me do it with other men?
“How—”
“Pay attention to these videos. To women. You must act like them when the time comes. No one likes a statue in bed.”
I swallow hard. “I don’t want to watch those things. That’s supposed to be private.
“Shut up and do as I say.”
My father inserts one of the CDs.
A woman is straddling a man. He touches her breasts as she grinds against him, back and forth. The way he looks at her— with so much admiration and desire—makes me wish someone would look at me like that.
“When that one stops, you’ll watch the rest of the pile I got you. I’ll know if you don’t.”
He leaves. The woman on the tape moans as she keeps grinding against her partner. My phone vibrates.
Dante.
I giggle softly and hug my legs as I read his message.
Dante: How did you sleep, sweetheart?
We’ve been texting nonstop for the past few days.
He doesn’t even care about my spelling mistakes, though I’m mortified by them.
He’s climbed up to my window three times since our little picnic and helped me with it—a bit.
He hasn’t kissed me again, and I appreciate that, but it’s strange that he doesn’t want that kind of contact.
We hug and touch a lot—he even asked for permission to—but no kisses.
Me: You kno I dont sleep very wel
Dante: The nightmares?
Me: Yes. Doesnt mater if I go to sleep hapy, I wake up with one of them
And they’re not really nightmares—they’re memories I don’t know how to stop.
That aside, my father hasn’t hit or touched me again, but he still watches me when I shower until I’m dressed. I don’t understand why he does it, and I’m sick of it.
He is my worst nightmare, and I can’t escape him.
Dante: You want me to scare them away?
I smile and bite my lip.
Me: Id like to but you need to work and get som sleep. Yu cant keep sneeking into my room like that. You will get tired of me
Dante: That’s impossible. Even if we spent a hundred years together, just talking, I’d never have enough of you.
I blush. I can’t stop smiling.
Dante: And I’d give up everything for you, ragnetta. Just say the word, and I’m yours.
Me: Ill think abot it. I kno it’s eazy for you to clim up but if you hadnt notice my father can come in witout warnin
Dante: I could lock the door.
I sigh.
Me: It lock from the outside
Dante: Has he ever locked you in?
On the TV, their movements quicken, accompanied by louder moans. This feels far too personal for me to watch. The way they look at each other—so intense—it’s as if I’m intruding on something private.
Me: When he ground me
The man on the screen sucks on the woman’s breasts. She clings to him, gasping loudly as he thrust into her, savouring her body.
What if I let Dante do something like that to me? Would it be wrong if I liked it? If I wanted him to look at me like that?
My father always said it doesn’t matter what I want, but what if it does? What if wanting someone could make everything different?
A tingling sensation spreads through my body as I imagine Dante’s hands all over me, parting my legs for him. His kisses trailing down my neck, lower and lower…
But then it’s not Dante. It’s them.
And the fantasy stops.
Dante: Do you think I could change the locks?
I roll my eyes.
Me: Shur, if you want me ded, engage to someone else, or gon away. Go ahed.
Dante: Every time I think I’ve run out of reasons to hate him, you give me more.
The video ends, and another begins.
In this one, a woman stands in the middle of a room, surrounded by six men.
My stomach churns as they grab her, tearing her clothes off. Their hands claw at her body as if they want to tear pieces of her flesh.
And then it’s no longer her on the TV. It’s me.
I’m in that place, in the middle of six men, all using me at once. I’m the one being raped again.
With tears in my eyes, I glance at my phone when it vibrates.
Dante: Are you really sure you don’t want me to beat him up?
On the TV, the woman chokes on one of the men while two others beat her and thrust into her.
“Please, stop. I’m begging you.”
“Beg better, slut.”
They all smell.
Please, someone get me out of here.
I’m hanging from the ceiling, blindfolded, with something shoved into my mouth so I can’t scream. All I can do is feel, and it’s the last thing I want.
My entire body aches.
I want them to put me down.
They’re taking turns. I know only because they say it out loud. I don’t know how many of them there are or what they’re doing to me.
I just want this to end. Please.
Please!
“My name is Roger, beautiful. I’ll teach you how to take care of me.”
I don’t want to. I hope I can kill you. Disgusting bastard.
“In a few days, you’ll come with me, so I’ll need to try you before I show you what I want.”
When he’s finished with me, he says, “I brought some friends.”
I’m practically dead on the bed, but he opens the door, and five men walk in, each wearing a grin.
“I’ll teach you to take them all, beautiful. I’m sure you’ll love it.”
Disgusting. They’re all disgusting.
It doesn’t matter how much I fight, how much I beg, none of them stops. Is like they like me doing those things.
What do I have to do for them to leave me alone?
Someone slaps me.
I blink rapidly. My father stands in front of me, his face twisted with fury.
“Why the hell are you crying, you brat? Did you watch the videos?”
“I—”
“You can’t even handle that, can you?” He slaps me again, harder this time. “Useless cunt. You’re worthless. I should’ve taught you myself how to—”
“Erik!” Mum’s voice cuts him off as she steps into the doorway.
They both glare at each other, furious. I’ve never seen that look on Mum’s face before.
“Go to sleep, Lana,” my father says, stomping out of the room.
He yanks Mum by her hair as he leaves, slamming the door behind him and locking me in.
I lie down. Tears stream down my face, and my heart beats faster than ever.
I glance at the telephone.
Dante: Goodnight, amore. Sogni d’oro. 8
Dante was still texting me earlier, and his last message came an hour ago… and I didn’t reply. He’ll think I didn’t want to talk to him. He’s going to be pissed.
My heart aches, and my chest is squeezing the air from my lungs.
Can I call him? Would that be wrong? I don’t want to be alone. Mum is screaming a few rooms away, and I can’t leave mine…
Will he be angry if I call him?
Me: I dnt want to botr you
Me: But csn I csll yiu?
I’m shaking. I don’t want to feel like this.
Please, make it stop!
Perhaps he’s already asleep. Perhaps he doesn’t want to be bothered.
He’ll probably tell me to fuck off and block me.
Why would he want to hear someone crying her heart out?
Will he think it’s something stupid, just like my father does?
Will he get angry because he wants something I can’t give?
I don’t want him to look for someone else, but I can’t give him what he wants either. Will he force me? Will I have to—
My phone vibrates with an incoming call. I answer immediately.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Hearing his soft voice breaks me. I cry into the pillow, trying to stifle my screams. Mum is still screaming and begging while my father grunts. I don’t know if it’s from the force of the beating or if he’s doing things to her again.
I don’t want this. I can’t take this.
“I n-need—”
“What did he do? Do you need me to come over?”
“N-no!” I don’t know if he will actually come to see me later, and I don’t want him to. “H-he showed me a v-v-video—I f-feel so…” Disgusting. “Stupid.”
I hug the pillow tighter and sob. I can barely catch my breath. My heart pounds against my ribcage, threatening to burst.
Why do I still feel their hands on me? Why am I still there? Why are they still here?
Why doesn’t it stop?
I’m going to die. I can’t breathe.
I want to die, but I can’t leave Mum alone. I’m all she has.
I can’t breathe!
“Sweetheart, tell me five things that are in your room.”
Why does he want that? I can’t stop crying. I can’t—
“Please, amore . Let me help you, even if it’s from the distance… Please, vita mia. 9 ”
I look around.
“A T-TV… m-my closet, the w-w-window.” I clench my jaw until my teeth grind.
“That’s it, beautiful. You look so pretty with us inside of you.”
I press the pillow to my mouth and scream.
My chest burns with pain.
“Two more. Just two.”
Two. Two things.
“A ch-ch-chair and a dressing… table.”
“Now tell me four things you hear.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“My m-mum screaming,” I sob. “My father—”
“Outside, amore. Listen outside. Ignore your house.”
I stand up and look out of the window. Air hits my face, and I take a deep breath.
“Leaves m-m-moving because of the w-wind… A cricket… dogs barking and… cars.”
“Now three things you can touch.”
I close my eyes. “My s-s-skin… the window’s glass… the curtain.”
“Now, two things you can smell... is there anything?”
I look around, then check my dressing table, opening its drawers. “I h-h-h-have two scented candles.”
“How do they smell?”
“Like watermelon… and coconut.”
“Do you like them?”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything you can taste?”
“H-how many things?”
“Just one, sweetheart.”
I look around again. When I find a glass, I sigh, a bit more relaxed. “Water.”
He scoffs. “Water doesn’t taste like anything.”
“It does.”
I lie down on top of my bedsheets, hugging a pillow. I picture his face beside me—his dark, soft gaze, his reassuring smile, his blue eyes, his black hair… Is this wrong?
“Really?”
My eyes close on their own, and I start speaking slower.
“Y-yes. W-w-water from a bottle tastes different than the o-o-one from the sink. Sparkling w-w-water is saltier than the others, and it’s my favourite.”
“We’ll have to test your theory,” he says. I swear he’s smiling. “I’ll buy every kind of water, and I’ll make you try each one.”
I smile faintly. “You’ll… taste them too.”
“I will, sweetheart. Are you feeling better? What happened?”
I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “It was… nothing. Thank you.”
He sighs. “Then I guess you should get some sleep—”
“D-don’t… hang up.”
“I won’t.”
I want to keep talking, but I can’t open my mouth.
Or my eyes.
He starts humming a song, and the burning in my chest spreads through my body, leaving tingles in its wake.
I like Dante.
I want him to like me too.
When I wake up, I’m tucked into bed. There’s a water bottle next to me with a little note resting on top. I frown and reach for it.
“I needed to make sure you were okay. Tell me if you need me to come tonight. Our next date is in two weeks, but I’ll come sooner either way.
—The love of your life ;D.”
A faint laugh escapes my lips.
A few minutes later, I walk downstairs for breakfast. My father is already in the kitchen, pressing an ice bag against his left eye. My stomach twists under his gaze.
“What do you want?”
“M-m-my breakfast.”
He tosses the ice bag into the sink. His lip and eyebrow are bleeding, and both his eyes are swollen and bruised.
Did he trip and fall?
When I open the fridge, I find another note that says Lana. I pick it up and read it.
“I bought some ice cream too. It’s in the freezer :D.”
I restrain a smile, biting my lip. Butterflies flutters in my belly.
Mum was right. Dante’s nothing like my father.
Notas:
8. Sogni d’oro: Sweet dreams.
9. Vita mia: My life.