I have to do something. Anything, because some things can’t be unheard, some things can’t be undone. Some things eat holes in you. My brother has holes the size of the fucking Grand Canyon eating him alive and I don’t have the first idea of how to help him, but I have to try. I have to.
I need to start finding who exactly was involved in those attacks—every last fucking one. I can’t use Freak or none of the boys though. This secret is Dance’s and I will NOT add to his pain, but I am going to find every last man involved and then I will make them bleed and beg for death, before I end them. Believe me, I will end them. I will.
Chapter 21
Dancer
I don’t want to say I ran out of there, but I walked fast. I don’t look back. I’m mad, not so much at Dragon—more at the world. I knew what was coming and I knew I didn’t want to hear what Dragon had to say. I knew I couldn’t handle it. I should have turned and left immediately. Why the fuck didn’t I leave?
I jump on my bike and point it towards Pussy’s. I should go home to Carrie. I should, but I can’t. I need to get lost in a bottle. I can’t stand her eyes looking at me in sadness and disappointment. I’ve disappointed her way too much.
My drive there is quick. I drive hard and fast, letting the cold air hit my face. I welcome the sting and the numbness it eventually brings. I curse the tears I feel hitting my face. Men do not cry. Real men! Strong men! I don’t feel strong. Hell, I’m not strong. Things like what happened to me, they don’t happen to strong men. I scream out into the night air. It doesn’t help—not one damn bit.
I grab a seat at the bar and proceed to lose myself. People seem to be giving me a wide berth, I’m glad. Six, is working as a bartender tonight, he nods, but doesn’t speak. Does he know too? Did Dragon tell all the men? My hand shakes in fear at the thought. I don’t want anyone to know. I can’t handle anyone knowing. I want to kill Dragon for knowing. I wrap my hand around the shot glass. I hold it tight to hide the visible signs of the hell I’m going through.
I’ve never been able to say the word out loud—not once. I’ve tried, but giving voice to the word is like giving it life—giving it control. I was attacked? That’s easy. I was beaten? Still, no problem. Yet, saying aloud the ugly words, the more ‘real’ words is impossible. One word keeps repeating over and over in my brain. The mere thought of it feels as if my insides are on fire and I’m going to be devoured by the flames and burned alive. Rape! I’ve been… raped!
Rape is something that happens to the weak. To women who can’t protect themselves. It does not happen to men. It sure as hell doesn’t happen to strong men, men who are able to take care of themselves. It doesn’t happen to men who can protect people they care about.
I was raped!
I leave the glass behind and just grab the bottle, taking a swig out of it. Carrie wants to hitch her wagon to me. She wants me, but how can she want the man I really am? How much would her love turn to disgust if she knew the truth? I should tell her. I should tell her and end this fucking fairytale she’s concocted in her head.
*
I’ve been here awhile now. I couldn’t tell you how long. I really couldn’t. It’s a blur. Time ceased to exist half a bottle ago. I want to be back in bed with Carrie. I want to lie next to her and listen to her breathe and forget, if only for a minute. That’s another weakness I guess. A real man wouldn’t crave escape, he wouldn’t need to pretend.
“Dance man, how about I take you home?” I look up to see Crush standing beside me.
“No thanks,” I say. My words sound off to me, but I don’t really care.
“Man, Carrie’s worried about you. Let’s get you home and you can sleep it off.”
“Carrie, always fucking Carrie,” I growl out, reaching for another drink, but the bottle is empty now. When did that happen?
“C’mon Dance, your head is all fucked up. Let’s get you home so you can sleep it off. Things will look better in the morning, they always do.”
“They don’t. Trust me Crusher, sometimes things are much fucking worse in the morning. You got a woman?”
“Not on most days.”
“Don’t fucking get one, they don’t stop until they ruin your life. They bat their eyes and smile at you and think you should just drop to your knees in front of them. Don’t fucking get a woman, Crusher.”
“Dance, man I happen to like getting on my knees for a woman.”
“Then get a pussy. Pussy is free. Pussy is easy. HEY! This man needs pussy! Who’s going to help him out?”
Crusher snorts and helps to steady me as I get up. The room sways, but eventually comes to a stop.
“Don’t worry, Crusher. You’ll get all kinds of pussy now. Women run to a man with a dick because they think they can sink their claws into him. They want to make us into some kind of hero who can do anything. It’s crazy.”
“C’mon let’s get you in the cage.”
“Cars are not cages. I have been in a fucking cage, not the same man. It’s not the same.”