Embracing Life (11 page)

“Katie, I am fine. Honest, I am. Look, the road flooded, so I had to pull off. My phone has been acting up with the storm, and I called you as soon as I had signal,” I lie through my teeth, trying to sound as normal as possible. I wonder whether she can hear it in my voice. I am trying my hardest not to alarm Steven. His hand rests softly on my leg, giving my thigh a tight squeeze. My eyes jump to his face. The expression is unreadable, but I know he is waiting for me to slip up. Seconds pass with no sound, no words, just that glare.

I wait for Katie’s reaction to what I just told her. No response. I call her name a couple more times, but still no response. I can hear mumbling, but I am not sure who or where it is coming from. He knows something is wrong. His expression changes, and he grabs for the phone, but just has he does, I hear my name.

“Mel, are you there, Mel?” It’s Josh, and he sounds worried. His voice his harsh yet shaky.  I don’t know what to tell him. I wanted to speak with Katie or Mike. I can’t tell him. Damn it! I need Katie.

“Josh, I am here. Can you please put Katie back on the phone? I don’t want to talk to you right now.” I feel a tear fall from my stinging eyes.

“No, Mel. Tell me where you are. I am coming for you,” he snaps. I can hear Katie in back ground; she is grumbling about something. This is taking too long. Steven has become noticeably agitated in his seat.  “Speakerphone, Katie. NOW!” vibrates through my phone. Josh is pissed.

Steven’s eyes grow wider, and he wants me off the phone. He hasn’t said anything yet, but I can feel that my time is almost up. He grabs for the phone, but I jolt backwards. I have to get this over with. I may not get another chance to let them know what is happening.

“Katie are you there?” I plead.

“Yes, Mel, I am here. The stubborn fool put it on speaker. Mike is here, and he is pacing. Where are you? The guys are going nuts.”

“Katie, listen to me. I am fine. I met up with an old friend, OK?” Friend. That word seems so poisonous when I refer to him.

“An old friend? What are you talking about, Mel?” I can hear her frustration.

“You don’t have any friends here other than the three of us.” She’s right. I don’t know why, but her observation stings. Wow, the truth hurts. I really don’t have any friends. I have kept myself in an exclusive little circle. It has been Katie, Mike, and I for the last three years, and I have been content keeping it that way. I never wanted to venture. It has never had that much of an appeal to me. I have been happy with the ways things are.

“Ha-ha Katie! That’s not funny. You remember me telling you about my friend, Steven, right?” I breathe.  Silently praying she picks up on the name, I grip the phone so tight I can feel the circulation to my fingers draining. Please Katie. Please. You have to remember. He eyes snap to mine. I can feel the growl emanating from him. Time’s up! “Katie, I have to go now. I think we are going for dinner or something, but we need to get away from the
passssssss.”

That what is it. With one swipe, my phone is launched from my hand and my cheek is burning from the sudden impact. I tried to be subtle, but apparently, it didn’t work. He figured it out. Damn it! He figured it out.

“Breathe Mel! Breath baby,” the voice says, flowing through me again, but this time, I recognize it. Josh. The familiarity of the voice chokes me. Bringing my hands to my mouth, I sob silently. Why Josh? The rumble of the engine starting pulls me from my silent hysterics. I don’t look at him... I glare at him. I see red. I am angry. No, I am FUCKING FURIOUS. Don’t back down Mel!

“What the hell, Steven?! I was just telling them I was ok and out with a friend. They know nothing about you!” I scream.

“Melanie, you have never been able to lie to me. It is written all over your face. You will pay for your deception. I can assure you of that. I don’t like hurting you, but FUCK!” He slams heavily on the brake, throwing me head first into the dashboard. “God, Melanie! Why would you deceive me like that? I thought you loved me.”

Love him? How deranged is he? I could never love a man like him.

“I never loved you, Steven. You know that. I was 13. You used me! You raped me, over and over again! You beat me, and then you beat my mother! How could anyone, especially, me love you?!”

As the scolding words leave my lips, his fist meets my face. I am still dazed from the contact with the dash, and I lean back, holding my head. I take my hand away to check the color. No blood. I glance a look to my left. He face is beet red, and he is furious. The car is stopped in a place I am unfamiliar with. His eyes are shadowed. I freeze, my body runs cold. I have seen this look more than once. It wakes me at night. Nausea fills my insides as the image that I have tried so hard to forget, reemerges, strong and more powerful than ever, lurking in the shadows of my car. I am such a fool. I know better than to challenge him.

“Melanie,” he says with a loud grunt. “I gave you all that you wanted, needed. Don’t you remember? Melanie you flirted with me. I can still feel your eyes on me as you walked around that house. You flaunted your lil’ ass in front of me. You made me want you, and now, my sweet little thing, I will take you once again, and we will have nothing to fear. You will be mine, Melanie, forever,” he says, slamming his hand on the steering wheel.

Again, my phone chimes. I can’t see it, but I can hear it. This time though, it is not a phone call. It is a message of some sort. They must have given up on me and sent me a goodnight text. I knew I wasn’t clear enough. I am unsure how much they remember of what I told them about Steven. I cannot even remember if I actually told them his name. Oh god! I don’t think I did. I stifle the sob that bleeds from my throat.

T
h
e
pain radiating through my skull dominates my thoughts. I wonder how much more it can take. Rubbing my palm slowly across my temple, I can feel the swell rising along the right side. I have yet to rise far enough from my slumped position to see where we are. My body is weak, and the mere thought of moving is exhausting. “Breathe, Baby! Breathe.” So softly it flows. I am thrown off balance as the words wash over me. Josh has never even muttered those words, so why do they haunt me? Words that keep fighting, but how? I think of him as I rise from my seat. His face, his scent, and the fact that he loves me. How could he love me? He knows nothing about me. If he could see me now, he would retract his statement faster than he announced it. I see his face In front of me, his sea blue eyes burning through me. His beautiful eyes. I wonder if I will ever see them again. No. The more and more I think of him, the more I remember certain times where we have been with each other. They were short and very rare, but they are there.  Like a puzzle board coming together, I can see him. He has never been too far. Lunch room, library, classes. He has always been there, somewhere in the background. I have seen him but never really took notice of him. I felt safe and protected in my bubble, and never once did I think I would look at Josh how I do now. What have I missed out on?

Sighing, I look around me to find something familiar as we drive along the winding road. I notice the coast off in the distance, so I gauge that we not too far from the base, which means I am not far from home. Thinking fast, I can use this to my advantage I know I can, but how. Think, Mel. Think!

“Steven, where are we headed?”

“To my boat. I am docked at the Cruiser Anchorage. It’s the only mooring station that had room, a little further than I would have liked, but beggars can’t be choosers,” he jokes.

“Steven I can’t go on a boat!” I snap. I use the all the authority I have in my voice to make that small statement. Weary of another blow, I push my body as far from him as possible. I am not kidding though. I get the worst sea sickness known to man. I can’t even walk out on a pier without feeling nauseous.

‘You can, and you will,” he bellows.

I watch as he inhales an infuriated breath. I am testing his patience.

“You are not going to fight me on this one. Once we are off and sailing, we will be finally alone. No one can hear your screams in the ocean, my sweet. We will be together at last. Can’t you feel it?” he asks, his smile stretching from ear to ear.

“I am serious, Steven. I cannot go on a boat. I can’t even get close to a boat without being sick, and you don’t want that do you?” He looks puzzled. I can hear the cogs in his head moving. He doesn’t know whether to believe me or not, but I have to use whatever deranged feelings his has for me against him. I have to make him think of my well-being. “Steven, please. We are not far from my house. We can stop and get my medication. Then, we can leave. I will be fine to sail, but I need my medication,” I say, the lies rolling from my mouth like acid.

He lets out a sickening laugh as I finish my sentence.

“We are not going to your house, Melanie. It’s too risky. I cannot risk someone taking you away from me again. Please don’t ask. You are asking too much from me,” he says, his voice faltering unnervingly. Don’t ask me to? Where is the aggressive-natured man that sat beside me five minutes ago? I am so confused.

That could very well be the leverage I can use. He has proclaimed his love, over and over, to me. I can use this. Yes!

“We can stop at a pharmacy or something then. I need something, Steven. I will be a mess the minute I board. I know you don’t want to see me hurt. No one is going to take me away from you, Steven. I promise,” I state, strengthening my case. “I want to be with you, but you have to let me get something to make our trip more pleasant.” Acid burns as bile rises in my throat. I never thought I would be able to think those words much less say them, but I’m not thinking. This is fighting.

This man ruined my life, and he continues to do so, over and over again. I feel sick as the blood drains from my face, and I have an overwhelming urge to throw up. I can feel it rising, burning my throat. I gasp to stifle the flames igniting my insides, but it doesn’t work.  I take a deep breath to try and get my body to react, but it won’t.

“Mel, oh Mel. I have longed for you to say those words to me. I have dreamt of the day when you would finally allow yourself to come to the right decision. Oh, my sweet lil’ thing, I cannot tell you how pleased that makes me. I planned on showing you how I felt about you as I did all those years ago, but here and now, I think I will make love to you and our love can, for once, be complete.” I see him lift his hand and slowly smooth the scar that lines is upper lip as well as the one across his right eyebrow.

“My medication, Steven,” are the only word’s I can muster. I gave him what he wanted. I am giving myself time. I could never feel that way about him. He is going to show me. I know what that means. I begin to question myself. Should I really be leading him on this way? Should I go quietly into the night? There is no truth to my words. Is there an escape? I watch as he grazes the scar with his fingers, the scar I put there. I shake as the memory floods my weak mind.

With each passing night, my body no longer fights him. It is no use.

As the day comes to an end, I watch the sun set from the safety of my room. There was no one in the house when I returned home from school, but I know that won’t last long. I don’t know what came over me, but I have a feeling that I need to protect myself tonight.

I need protection. There is something different about today, and it makes me very uneasy. I make my way to the kitchen, checking every hallway and room before I enter, just to make sure I am alone. By this time, I am on high alert, as I know my time is running out. Shuffling into the kitchen, I go in search. For what, I don’t know, but I will know when I see it. Reaching to open one of the drawers, a flash of silver catches my eye. There, on the draining board, is a small kitchen knife. I remember using this with my mother to cut fruit. I know it’s sharp. Looking around the room one last time to make sure I am not being watched, I slide the knife into my bag and head towards the stairs. I make it to my room, locking my door behind me and placing a chair against the knob.

I leave the lights off. I need visitors think I am not home. I sit on my bed, silent as always. I slip the knife under my pillow, knowing my head will not rest there anyway. Turning, I face the door and wait. I know he’s coming. Regardless of all the obstacles in his way, I know he is coming.

I wake to a loud to a large cracking noise. I must have dozed off. I jump from my position on the bed as I see the dark form coming through the hole that is now in the center of my door. The chair has been turned to shattered pieces and is tilting on its last leg. As he enters my room, I hear him breathe, but he ‘doesn’t speak. He never speaks until he has me exactly where he wants me. I move my way back up the bed as he takes another step into the room. His footsteps match my heart beat. It’s not rushed or beating at its normal pace. It has a slow, drumming beat, THUMP….THUMP…..THUMP. There is not one part of my body that likes this man. My body is literally scared for its life.

He places a knee on my bed, followed by another, until he has my cowering body under his. He knows by now that I will not run. He knows that I have nowhere to go. He is well aware that I cannot get away from him, his strength and speed make sure of that. I have tried before, but to no avail. I slide further and further up my bed until my back is against the head board and my eyes are fixed on his chin. He eyes are lowered, looking at the body beneath him. I swear I just saw him lick his lips.

A deep growl escapes his mouth as he raises his head, coming eye to eye with me. I can’t look at him, so I bow my head, remembering the knife tucked safely under my pillow. I slide my hand under and feel the rough wood of the handle against my fingers. His eyes do not move from my body. He looks me up and down. I feel like I am prized piece of beef at a county fair being given the once over. The noises coming from him are unbearable. I can feel his need, his primal need to mark me, enslave me. He begins to move, smiling, grunting, and sliding his hairy hands across my exposed flesh. I struggle to catch my breath as he pulls me flat on my back. My body doesn’t give much resistance. I try to focus on something, anything, to delay the inevitable. Too late. I can see the darkness, the tunnel is closing in. My body is rejecting his touch, protecting itself.

I have never been able to stay conscious when he starts touching me. I pass out within seconds of him placing his hands on me. I am not sure why, but deep down, I am thankful that I never have to witness what he does to my body. The less fight I give, the more pleasure he receives. My body is drifting in and out whilst he runs his hands across my thighs. “Now, Melanie, NOW!” I scream inside. Checking the grip on the knife, I take one last breath and launch my hand out from underneath the pillow, lunging at the first body part I can see.

“Bitch!” he yells as he flounders back of the bed.

“Now, Melanie!” my mind screams again. “Run!” I scramble to the side of the bed, wielding the knife like it is a ten foot blade. It’s the only thing that stands between life and death for me.  An evil smile crosses his face as he charges me. I roll away from him, still wielding the knife, brandishing it in front of me. With a wicked laugh, he seems to be enjoying this. He lunges for me, and I swipe the knife in front of his face. My eyes slam shut as I feel the blade scrap across his skin. My breathing is rapid, and I can feel my body pulsing. I want to move faster. He is laughing at me while I contain my composure, and it’s infuriating! Can’t he see what I am doing? I am trying to hurt him. Why won’t he back down?

“Well, well, Melanie, this is certainly an unexpected surprise. I love it when you fight me.” He is not phased one bit. This excites him. What have I done? “Put the knife down, my sweet. All you are doing is getting me thirstier for you. Put it down, Melanie,” he scorns.

“No!” I scream “I will not put it down. You need to leave. I will put it down if you leave and never come back. Leave now, or I will hurt you.” My voice is so weak that I can barely hear my own words.

He rolls his eyes and takes a small step towards me. He brings his hand from his side and shows me his palm. He wants me to give him the only thing I have that is keeping me alive. I don’t even want to imagine what he will do to me if I let it go. Mentally, I psych myself up and once again lunge. I graze his palm with the sharp blade. Instantly, he recoils his hand and holds it in front of his face, examining the wound.

“You little bitch! You cut me again! Oh, Melanie, why did you do that?
GIVE. ME. THE. GOD. DAMN. KNIFE!” He pronounces each of the words slowly, in sheer anger. I am terrified, but I will not give in. I can’t. I have come this far. I am fighting for my life. I glimpse as the dark liquid drips from his hand and onto the blankets sprawled over my bed. Facing the animal before me, I see the clean cut on his face, just above his lip.

I am within feet of my door. I can see my escape. It’s right there, beckoning me to leave. Gripping the knife tight between my small, delicate fingers, I make a run for it. Jumping over the splintered wood below my feet, careful not to step on the sharp splinters, I wave and leap. Turning, just as the blankets fly the length of the room, I watch as he tosses them like they are nothing, and although they are just blankets, the five heavy woolen
covers are no easy task when bundled together. I slide once more in the direction of the door, but as I do, I collide with the mattress that has just been ripped off my bed. I lay, face down, just in front of my bathroom. Stunned and winded by the fall, I slowly rise from the mattress just enough to see that my exit has been partially blocked by what was once my bed.

Time slows. Each step he takes towards me seems like he is running a mile. There is maybe three feet between us. Grunting, I move my body, scrambling to make it to my feet before he can reach me. It’s too late. He is upon me, and it takes my breath away. His weight has me trapped. The hard ball of his knee pries into my lower back. I scream and struggle, but his weight is consistent. I try, with all the strength I have, to push him off. He rears up and slams his full bodyweight down on me. My arms buckle and give way, and my face smashes into the mattress. A shooting pain runs along my mouth. I try to scream once more, but the metallic taste invading my taste buds distracts me.