“I strongly believe that love is the answer and that it can mend even the deepest unseen wounds. Love can heal, love can console, love can strengthen...” Somaly Mam
Her scream ruptured the night like a detonating bomb. Abby Mackenzie bolted upright in her bed, gasping for breath as her heart pounded painfully against the wall of her chest. After a terrified moment she reached blindly for the lamp, knocking the half full bottle of water sitting beside it to the floor before warm, reassuring light finally drove the vestiges of the dream from her waking mind.
For endless minutes she sat on the side of the bed, rocking and trembling while tears fell behind the hands covering her face. In her mind she was 16-years-old again and reliving every bit of the trauma of that prom night nearly twelve years in the past. But, gradually, calm began to return until the rocking stopped and her hands wiped away the tears before falling to her lap.
God, it had been years since she'd had the dream. She had thought herself free of it after so long in therapy. But as she sat there she understood what had brought it back. Obviously falling in love, for her, was a viciously double edged sword. As along with the euphoria had come its terrible price.
The cool air blowing from the floor register caused her to shiver as it passed through her sweat soaked nylon gown and she finally stood and pulled it over her head. Crossing to the dresser, she rummaged through a drawer for a fresh one then caught her reflection in the mirror as she pulled it on. Eyes normally a clear, October blue were now bloodshot and still carrying traces of the fear that had chased her from her sleep. Her blonde hair hung to her shoulders in a tousled mess that framed a pale, pinched, delicate featured face. She looked how she felt: shattered.
Turning away, she ran her hands up and down her arms before reaching for the French terry robe lying across the foot of the bed. Sliding it on, she padded barefoot from the bedroom. A nightlight gently lit the way down the hall to the living room where she pushed the dimmer button on the wall to turn on the overhead light before adjusting it until it was as bright as it would go. From there she made her way into the kitchen, flipping on another light as she made her way to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. Drinking thirstily, she leaned against the counter until the last of her residual weakness finally passed. Glancing at the clock on the stove she saw that it was just past ten o'clock. She'd only been in bed an hour.
Finishing the water, she recapped the bottle then set it on the counter before returning to the bedroom where she disconnected her phone from its charger. From there she retraced her steps to the living room where she then sat huddled on one end of the couch beneath a heavy cotton throw. She needed to hear Michael's voice and she knew he would still be awake, but how to describe the nightmare? She was torn between telling him the truth or brushing it off as a mere “bad dream.” He knew nothing about what had happened all those years ago. She'd struggled with how to tell him, to explain why she was reluctant to make love with him though she so badly wanted to. In the end, she dialed another number instead.
~
Michael Chamberlain was no fool but there were times when he questioned his sanity. Tonight was one of those times.
For nearly a year he'd been waiting, praying that one day Abby would return the love he'd felt for her almost from the moment they'd met. Their entries in the fair's photography competition had been exhibited side by side, hers with its blue ribbon scene from the Grand Tetons and his picture of a forest of fall aspens with its honorable mention, and he had been quite taken with the shy, pretty lady who he'd found staring it. He quickly found that, though she might be shy, she was nonetheless a woman who knew her own mind as she expressed her indignation that his entry had only been awarded an honorable mention when those taking the second and third places were much less worthy. Then she'd backed up her passionate opinion with almost clinical summations. From that moment he had felt as if he'd at last found something he'd been missing for a long, long time. But while Abby didn't reject him she didn't fully embrace him, either. In fact, more than once he'd felt buffeted by her constantly mixed signals. If it hadn't been for the ways she continually showed she genuinely cared for him he'd have given up a long time ago.
Then, just this afternoon, while sharing a picnic in the park, he'd watched her tear up over the sight of an aged couple walking by hand in hand, and he'd been so overcome with love that he'd given voice to his heart, and been rewarded with her confession that she loved him, too. When he had taken her home she'd invited him in and one thing had led to another until, suddenly, just as he'd touched her breast for the first time, she'd jerked away in what he'd have sworn was fear. When he'd asked what was wrong she'd made some excuse about needing to be up early in the morning and he'd left very soon after, confused as well as frustrated, and worried that he had done something to put the fear in her eyes.
He'd tried calling her twice since but both times his call had gone to voice mail. After leaving the second message he decided it was up to her if or where their relationship would go next. Still, he continued to worry over why she was suddenly so afraid of him.
It was shortly after midnight, and he had finally fallen into an uneasy sleep, when his phone rang. Instantly awake, he reached through the dark and grabbed it from the bedside table.
“Hello? Abby?”
“Hi Michael,” she replied softly after a long pause, “I'm sorry to call so late.”
“Hey,” he switched on the lamp, “Are you okay?
Another long pause.
“Y-yeah.” She sighed brokenly. “Michael, I'm so sorry.”
He closed his eyes as he leaned back against the headboard, “No, I'm sorry for scaring you like that.”
“No! Oh, no, it wasn't you. Please don't think that.” He heard her take a deep breath. “There-there's some things you need to know about me. Maybe they'll explain why I reacted the way I did.”
“Okay.”
“But not over the phone,” she insisted, “I need to tell you in person. Can you come over later?”
“Sure, baby. As early or as late as you want me to.”
“Can you come early? Maybe about nine o'clock? I really don't want...”
“Nine o'clock is fine.”
“Okay. Okay.” She was almost sobbing with relief. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being so patient with me.”
“Hey, it's okay, sweetheart,” he assured her then smiled. “You're worth it.”
She laughed softly, breathlessly.
“Then I'll see you in a few hours?”
“Yes.” His voice lowered caressingly. “Abby?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“And I love you, Michael. Good night.”
“Sweet dreams, baby.”
~
Shortly before nine the next morning, Abby opened the door to find Michael waiting with his hands in his jeans pockets and a gentle smile on his face.
“Hi,” he greeted her softly and she returned his smile with a shy, uncertain one of her own before motioning him inside.
“Please, sit anywhere you want.”
He chose one end of the sofa.
“Would you like some coffee, or maybe some juice?”
He shook his head, “No, that's okay. I'm fine.”
She hesitated, her arms wrapped about herself, before taking her own seat on the other end of the sofa. There was a long moment of silence before she took a deep breath and lifted her gaze to his.
“When-when I was sixteen I went to the prom.” She waited and he nodded encouragingly. “I, um, my date was someone I knew from church. The minister's son. He-he was always good to me. Polite and considerate. My parents really liked him.”
Michael's gut began to clinch as he watched her struggle with her words.
“So, anyway, we went to the prom. It was beautiful that night and I wore this gown that my mom had bought at a really fancy boutique. He bought me a corsage, one of those that goes on your wrist. I felt so pretty. So special.”
Again she paused and looked away.
“About half way through the evening he started acting strangely. He started getting really rude and loud and belligerent, and when we danced he kept getting rough. I finally told him to take me home.” Her voice wavered. “But, instead, about half way home he suddenly drove in a different direction away from my house and took me to this place where there was an abandoned warehouse.” She took a deep breath. “At first I refused to get out of the car and kept telling him to take me home but he just grabbed me and dragged me inside.” Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. “He-he, uh...”
“He raped you.”
She nodded with her head down.
“I can still see him. It's like he was crazy. Insane. He didn't even look like himself. I didn't know it at the time but he was high on drugs.” She shuddered. “I kept begging him to stop but he kept on hitting me, and-and...”
Suddenly Michael's arms were around her, holding her tight as she finally dissolved into harsh sobs. He rocked her slowly back and forth and murmured soothingly, even as rage spread through him and a red haze filled his vision.
“He left me there,” she continued after the tears had abated. “I don't know how long it was before I was able to get up and walk back to the main road. Someone stopped and picked me up and took me to the emergency room." She shook her head. "I dropped out of school after that. I just couldn't face going back.”
“Did you not report it?”
“Yes but because of his age and the fact that he didn't have a previous record, he was charged as a juvenile and only went to jail for a couple of years.”
“Son-of-a-bitch,” Michael swore savagely, “Where is he now?”
“Dead. He overdosed on heroin not long after he was released.”
“The bastard got off too goddamn easy.”
She nodded then rested quietly against him, listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat as his hands moved soothingly up and down her back. Finally she sat back and wiped the last of the tears from her cheeks.
“Last night I had nightmares. It was the first time in a long time.” She looked up at him with devastated eyes. “I started to call you first, but then I called the Rape Crisis Center and talked to a counselor there instead. After that was when I finally called you.” She rested her hands against his chest and gazed up imploringly at him. “So, you see, it wasn't really you that I was reacting to. It was him.”
Cupping her face with his hands, he leaned his forehead against hers.
“I'm sorry, baby. So, so sorry that that happened to you. If he wasn't already dead I'd kill him myself.”
“I thought Daddy was going to, but the police got to him first.”
“Too bad.”
“Yeah.”
She laid her cheek against his chest.
“I want to be with you, Michael. I want to make love with you.”
His arms tightened around her and he placed a gentle kiss on her head.
“When you're ready, sweetheart. There's no rush. We've plenty of time.”
They sat quietly for a time, listening to the air being forced through the registers and the muffled sounds of the world outside. Finally she leaned a little ways away and looked up into his gentle, loving gaze.
“Will you kiss me, Michael, so the nightmares will go back to sleep?”
Lifting her chin he first gently nuzzled her nose then kissed her softly before once again pulling her close to his chest.
“I love you, Michael.”
“And I love you, Abby. Always.”
The End.
c. 2020
Image by congerdesign from Pixabay
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Reviewed by Ronald Hull
10/8/2020
I could feel the emotion beautifully crafted by your words. So many girls have had that kind of experience, unable to be believed or are unable to even report it.
Michael appears to be someone with a great deal of patience when it comes to finding out what was troubling Abby about their relationship. Both of them seem destined for each other.
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Her scream ruptured the night like a detonating bomb. Abby Mackenzie bolted upright in her bed, gasping for breath as her heart pounded painfully against the wall of her chest. After a terrified moment she reached blindly for the lamp, knocking the half full bottle of water sitting beside it to the floor before warm, reassuring light finally drove the vestiges of the dream from her waking mind.
