The Invasion of the Tearling

“No.”


The word was out before she could pull it back, and Greg flung her across the living room, into the teak cabinet that housed the screen. Lily’s forehead hit first, splitting open and leaving a smear of blood on the dark wood. The cut didn’t hurt so much, but then her midsection also ran into the corner of the cabinet, knocking the wind out of her. It felt like someone had kicked her intestines in. Lily opened her mouth but couldn’t speak; her breath was stuck somewhere in her throat, trying to get down into her lungs, allowing only a series of hoarse gasps. Blood trickled into her left eye, and when she looked up, she saw Greg approaching through a haze of scarlet. The rug was scattered with drops of blood.

“What did you say to me?”

Good question. Lily had put a lock on her throat a long time ago, so that everything would need to pass through a filter before coming out. There was a very real lock there now, a physical one; she struggled to draw breath. But the other lock, the one that mattered … it had broken wide open. She wiped blood from her eye and braced herself as Greg bent down toward her. His face was red with anger, and the corners of his eyes had squeezed down into deep pockets, but the eyes themselves … they were empty.

“Want to apologize?”

Part of her did. If she apologized, and did it well, he would fuck her and then leave her alone for the rest of the night. If she wasn’t such a good actress, he might give her a few more sporting injuries and then fuck her anyway.

Going to be a bad night.

He was about to hit her again. His fist hadn’t even clenched, but over the past year Lily had developed good radar for such things. She sensed the oncoming blow, perhaps even before the impulse had left Greg’s own brain. She grabbed the leg of his grey suit pants with one bloody hand and pulled herself up into a crouch before he could jump backward. Her stomach was still hitching, but as she straightened and stood, everything relaxed inside her and she drew a pure, clean breath of air that seemed to fill her up.

“You got blood on my suit.” Greg’s tone was astonished, as though Lily had defied gravity. “Now I’ll have to change.”

“How terrible for you.”

He grabbed her by the hair and threw her out of the corner. Lily tripped over the coffee table, barking her shin and landing in a pile of government flyers that flew everywhere, scattering across the living room floor. She tried to shove herself up, but Greg was behind her, pushing her back down as if she weighed nothing, pinning her against the coffee table. He pulled up her dress, and Lily fought harder, suddenly understanding what was going to happen next. She thought of the woman in the nursery, the bullet hole in her stomach, how brave she’d been … she held the idea tightly as Greg ripped her panties off and shoved inside her. He’d planted his arm in the small of her back to keep her still, but Lily hitched involuntarily as she felt something tear deep inside her on the left side. A groan was climbing up the back of her throat, but she bit down on the skin of her hand. Greg would like it if she made a hurt sound. There was no logic to this, it was simply something she knew.

Movement from over her shoulder caught her eye. She looked backward, past Greg’s arm pinning her neck, and saw an upside-down Jonathan standing in the front hall behind her, frozen, his eyes wide. His car keys were still in his hand.

Shame crashed down on Lily. She did her best to hide the bruises, knowing very well that she wasn’t fooling anyone. Jonathan knew the score; he had taken her to the emergency room when Greg broke her arm. But this was much worse, and everything in Lily screamed that it had to be hidden. She couldn’t watch it reflected in anyone’s eyes but her own.

Jonathan took a step forward, reaching beneath his jacket and pulling out his gun.

Lily shook her head frantically. Jonathan could probably stop Greg, even without the gun; Greg was bigger, but Jonathan was combat-trained. But then what would happen? Greg would fire Jonathan without a thought, hire Lily a new bodyguard. Jonathan might even go to prison. And then what would happen to the woman in the nursery?

Or to me?

Jonathan took another silent step forward, raising the gun, his eyes fixed on Greg.

Lily drew a hitching breath and gasped, “No!”

This only served to egg Greg on; he began to thrust faster. But it had also stopped Jonathan. He paused, gun in hand, on the bottom step into the living room.

Lily gave him a small smile through gritted teeth, a smile meant to tell him that she would get through it, that she was looking beyond the next few minutes. She rolled her eyes to the left, toward the nursery. The separatist.