To Be Free (11 page)

"She was
beautiful and she was kind, too. Her hair was golden yellow and her
eyes were blue, and her skin was always that shade of sun-kissed
that was
just right
. She was the captain of the Cheerleading squad, she was
smart and funny - everyone wanted a chance with her, and I admit
that I did too." I swallow thickly, finding his hands again and
holding them - pulling them away from my person to intertwine my
fingers with his, and he doesn't complain. He them simply presses
our hands by my heart.

"A few months after we met she
asked me out, and I agreed. After a few dates she wanted to be my
girlfriend, and I didn't complain about it - I was happy. I thought
she was the girl of my dreams - she was everything I wanted. She
was kind and caring, passionate and loving and patient. Everything
I wanted in a girl."

For a moment I'm silent,
opening my eyes to look at the dirt wall I can't even see but that
I know lies about a meter away from me. He starts whispering the
song again, and my heart beats once painfully at the sound, so
close to my ear.

"Then... a year later, she
showed her true colours.”

I stand along the line of oak
trees, watching the leaves as they begin changing colours and
dancing in the afternoon wind. My scarf is pulled to my chin and
for a moment it's just the thick scent of leaves, the chilly wind
and me - the rest of the world doesn't exist, doesn't matter. In
that one moment, I'm happy and carefree.

I mean, I have a girlfriend I
love, my parents are still together and don't fight, my grades are
good, and I honestly feel on top of the world. Like Theseus when he
was king of Athens, believing he could have anything and any woman
he desired.

Arms wrap
around me from behind, hands pressing against my eyes and a happy,
familiar voice singing
guess who!
even though she knows I'll be able to identify
her. I turn around in her arms, so that they fall around my
shoulders, and kiss those cherry-red lips I'm familiar
with.

Her big, bright blue eyes shine
as we part and look at one-another, someone from the Yearbook
committee taking a picture and running away before I can thrash
him. I shout after the offender, making Sarah laugh lightly and
toss her curled hair over her shoulder.

"Come on, Seb; we need to get
going if we want to get a good spot for the show!" She takes my
hand, our fingers intertwining in familiarity, and I turn around to
smile at her and nod.

She's dressed as stunning as
ever; a low-cut white halter top always slipping off her right
shoulder and exposing the smooth skin there, a short dark blue
skirt that swishes up just so as she walks and hints at a very
slight bit of skin of her ass, and black heels compliment her look,
her long legs left completely exposed and just as smooth as the
rest of her.

But I'm not with her so I can
get laid. I really, honestly love the girl and want to be with
her.

Her sex appeal is an added
bonus.

We walk all the way to the
park, about five blocks away from the school, hand in hand and
chatting about our midterms. She tells me about something Helena
did that was such a scandal it made the rumour mill for a week
straight at the very least, and I nod and laugh at the right
places, offer sympathy at the others, but I don't listen too much
to that part.

When we reach the park, the sky
darkening for the evening and promising clear skies for the
fireworks display, she leads me to a secluded spot surrounded by
trees and rocks that's on a bit of a incline so that no one can see
you, but leaves a clear view of the sky - best seats in the house,
in other words, and it's well known at school by a different
name.

I feel a cold chill run down my
spine as I follow the girl of my dreams, for some reason feeling
dread. Usually there are at least half a dozen couples here, but
tonight...

What is she planning?

She finds a soft spot on the
grass, sitting down and patting the space beside her. Not wanting
to be rude, I accept the silent invitation and pull her into my
arms when she offers me that smile that's her silent way of asking
me to hold her, and she smiles up at me.

"Isn't this perfect? We're the
only ones here tonight," she sighs, leaning against me. I nod, a
gnawing fear at the back of my mind as I glance around the
clearing.

"Yeah, but usually there are at
least a few others..." I mutter, and she shrugs a shoulder with
feigned interest.

"Melody told me that they found
a better spot, a nicer one apparently, so they all went there. It's
just you and me, Seb!"

I nod again, deciding that the
uneasiness I feel isn't something I should be concerned about, and
ignore the fight-or-flight instinct that's urging me to run away
from the girl I love.

She would never do anything to
me. We've been together for a year now, and she's respected my
wishes about waiting before having sex when she asked around the
six month mark. She hasn't asked once, though she'll probably
inquire soon.

The thing is, I just want to be
with her. I don't want anything sexual yet, at the very least, no
matter how tempting it might seem to someone else. I'm just... not
ready, I guess. I'm only fourteen, so I think that's a bit
normal.

Maybe.

The fireworks start, and for a
while we watch them with awe. When about fifteen minutes have
passed she seems to get bored, and starts kissing my jaw while I'm
still watching, surprising me.

"S-Sarah?" I stutter, and she
hums quietly. "W-what are you doing?"

"You know I
love you, Seb," she muses, and the dread comes back again with a
big
I told you so
, knowing too well my window of opportunity has
passed.

"So do I," I reply earnestly,
though I admit my confusion and concern is evident in my voice. She
turns around in my arms and claims my lips, of which I reply to
with equal enthusiasm.

Until she pushes me down on the
grass, that is. I break the kiss and look at her, the fear
surmounting and actually giving me a bad taste in my mouth.

"I want to show you," she
continues, and that loving glint in her eyes has changed. It's
changed and the sight of it, the sight of that predatory gleam
makes me dread her plans. "I want to show you just how much I
do."

No matter how much I tried to
resist and no matter what I said, she won over me. She dominated me
and didn't let me leave, didn't let me the chance to escape her
clutches until she was satisfied and finally relinquished her hold
of my mouth and hands.

I never believed in fighting a
girl. Never.

The fireworks quieted my
screaming while she did this to me, and suddenly I knew that she'd
forced this situation, played her cards and set it up so that we'd
be alone. When I slipped away to the edge of the clearing, by a
tree, I was shaking so hard and crying, I couldn't help the fear
and the pain. I'd honestly thought she would wait, that she would
honour that and that she was better than what she's shown me.

I threw up in those bushes, and
she comforted me while I spewed, as if she didn't just rape me, as
if she didn't have sex with me without my consent. I shied away
from her touch, screaming and begging her to leave me alone, but
she didn't relent. She trapped me between two oak trees and
threatened me.

"If you leave me, Sebastian, I
promise you I'll go to the police and tell them you raped me here
tonight. Who knows? I could also say you got me pregnant - they
won't look into it," she hissed softly, holding my face so that I
couldn't turn away. My tears had dried, my energy spent, but I
still shook. "They never do. I could say you beat me to silence me
- I'm not above hurting myself for proof. Do you want that, love?
Do you want your entire world crashing down on you like that?"

"I hope you
burn in
hell
," I
spit back, narrowing my eyes.

What else could I do? I went
along with it. I played her game, pretended I still loved her.

At night,
though, on those nights I was left alone, I began running the knife
along my arms because the emotional pain was too much to bear,
because I needed something to help ease it - to make the pain go
somewhere else. I tried suicide a few times, each time
unsuccessful. She'd come at least once a week, and told me that if
I didn't do
exactly
as she said, she'd tell the police I raped her.

I couldn't do
it. Who would believe me if I said it? "Yeah, excuse me? My
girlfriend raped me a few months back and is now threatening me
with going to the police to charge
me
for raping
her
. Little help,
please?"

No, the world doesn't work that
way. The media makes it so that male rape victims feel alone, they
think being dominated by another man or a woman is the grandest
shame on their masculinity, so they don't say anything. There's no
support anywhere for them. People don't believe you if you say you
were raped. They think you find the girl ugly and you didn't like
the sex. That you only wanted to have a quick lay but she wanted
more, and you didn't so you thought it was enough to charge her
with rape.

When a girl accuses a man of
rape, half the time there's no investigation. They take the man
into custody and hold the trial, and it's heavily one-sided, in
favour of the girl. No one likes a rapist, and the media has led us
to believe that only men are rapists and murderers and abusers;
women are always the victims.

Where the
fuck is the equality in that?
Where in the
fucking hell was the help I needed when it would've made things
right?

She continued this until I was
seventeen, until I broke. I'd been taken to the hospital for my
latest attempt, and when she came in I screamed. The doctors had
kept me sedated and I screamed at her to leave, to never come back
and that I was tired of being her puppet. I told her I was tired of
being her outlet, her sex slave, and I didn't want it. I didn't
want the memory of that night to be relived every day of every
week.

They made the
investigation, one thing led to another, and she did time in juvy.
The jury almost called innocent, though, when she tried pretending
that it was the other way around - but her
friend
, Helena, came to the stand
and admitted to Sarah having approached her and explained to her
the plan. They'd both known I wasn't ready for such a thing, but
they went through with the plan anyways.

Sarah went to
juvy for that, and Helena did community service. None of my friends
believed me, my family didn't know
what
to think - they tried
therapists and psychiatrists, but I never spoke of that day, those
years. They diagnosed me with anxiety, depression, and all sorts of
things and gave me so many pills that I never took or took in
overdose, being charged to the hospital many times.

Finally, we left.

But to this day, I still dream
of that night and those years, the pain and the fear and the
betrayal. To this day, I've refused to love another being, refused
to trust them and refused to believe they won't do the same.

Because no one understood and
no one helped me.

I'm crying openly,
chest-heaving sobs that are part-pain, part-relief. Pain for the
memories, relief for finally coming clean.

"
Please
,
Quinn, don't tell me I'm only saying she raped me because I didn't
like it," I plea, my voice breaking in an embarrassing fashion, but
I don't care. "I loved that girl until that day, I loved her and I
thought she was perfect.
Please
don't be like everyone else. Don't tell me that
I'm lying - I didn't
ask
for what she did to me!"

He's been quiet the whole way
through my story - I feel as if an eternity has passed, or at least
an hour or two - but his breath would catch and falter, his hands
would clench into fists and sometimes he stopped breathing
altogether. Now, though, he pulls me flush against him and buries
his face in my hair.

"I don't know what kind of man
would tell you that," he whispers, his voice hoarse and sounding
rather unstable. "I've seen your scars, and it's as if I'm the only
one in the fucking world who knows that the scars in here," he
squeezes me a little, hands over my heart, "and here," and kisses
my head, "are just as real as the ones I've seen on your
wrists.

"Seb, I've
made a promise to protect you, not hurt you. Please don't think I'm
like those monsters," he begs, voice wavering. I nod, my sobs not
loud but impeding my breathing. "I'm not like them. I'm not
like
her
.
I
promise
you,
and if it takes me a thousand years to make you believe me, I'll
fight for a thousand years. You... you're important to me. Special,
even. I'll die before I hurt you."

I turn around in his embrace,
finally facing the man who's never failed to calm me, who's made me
feel safe and appreciated. I want to see his expression.

It startles
me. While the tears streaming down my face are to be expected, his
weren't. His eyes are rimmed red and his cheeks glisten with the
salty liquid, and his expression is of anger and pain, as if he
knows he can't begin to imagine the pain, but the thought of my
having gone through it gives
him
pain.

Quinn cups my face in his
hands, wiping the tears on my face away with his thumbs and
pressing his forehead against mine. He's shaking, and through the
turmoil of emotions he locks eyes with me, his near-green hazel
eyes capturing the entirety of my attention and sparing none of it
for anything else.