“Of course.”
Once home, I get out of my car and cross the street when women’s intuition, sixth sense, call it whatever, kicks in. I feel eyes on me. A noise draws my attention, and I turn to look around me. I swear I see a man with cold eyes in a hooded sweatshirt meet my stare before he ducks into the alley and disappears. Cold eyes.
There was a time in my life when I watched the light of life dance in a boy’s eyes turn to darkness as black as death over time. Feelings, gone. Conscious, non-existent. Cold … blank … unfeeling … unmoving.
Bryce.
A shiver runs through me, and it is more than the cold, Detroit winter. My stepbrother. My step-monster’s oldest son. The boy who could do no wrong in his mother’s eyes.
“Come on, Livi. Let me see them. I’ll make sure there’s nothing wrong with you. Daddy dearest doesn’t want a broken child,” he whispers to me in the darkened night of my bedroom, his teenage hands roughly groping my budding breasts.
His weight presses over me, pushing me farther into the softness of my overpriced mattress at my father’s house. The mattress that is nothing like my mattress at ‘home,’ my mom’s house.
He is suffocating me between his words, his actions, and the mere feeling of him over me. He pulls at my nightgown as I simply lie still, unsure what I should do.
“My mom may be a bitch to you Livi, but I like you. Feel how much I like you,” Bryce whispers in the dark.
When I don’t lift up, he wraps the long shirt over my head, exposing my developing body to him. My panties are all that is covering my body from him as my face is now hidden inside my shirt. I feel safe hidden by my shirt. I am lost inside my shirt.
He’s on top of me, his hands are touching me. It doesn’t feel bad. And, he likes me even though his mom doesn’t.
Mom.
My mom bought me silk panties when I ‘became a woman.’ After my first period, she said I was too old for days of the week panties. Now, my silk panties for womanhood are there for Bryce to see.
Bryce likes me even though his mom doesn’t.
His hands are down my panties. His fingers run through my folds. I shake my head back and forth.
“I like you. I wanna make you feel good. You like me, too, Livi, don’t you? You wanna make me feel good, too, don’t you?”
I’m frozen. The sensations are overwhelming me. I whimper, but can’t make the words come out.
“Shhh, Livi. I’m gonna make you feel good. I’m gonna make you feel like a grown up. Lay still now.”
“No, Bryce. Please, no,” I beg him in a whisper from behind my shirt.
His fingers are there, rubbing, sliding, moving on me there, at my special place.
It doesn’t feel bad. It doesn’t hurt, per se. It shouldn’t feel good, though. Nothing feels good when I’m here, but this sensation.
My body is in control, and I’m at a loss. What’s wrong with me? My body is responding, while my brain screams for him to stop, but I can’t make the words come past my lips again. Why do I want him to touch me more now? Stop it. Don’t stop it. What is wrong with me?
I am going to puke.
I am going to puke. I drop to my knees in the snow, breathing raggedly, until reality finally washes over me. No more. He can’t touch me anymore. I now know the word ‘no.’ I now know that it was wrong. I now know that I am in control.
I push away the memories of how my nightmare began, and where my world stopped and tilted on its axis. I have always wondered if life would be all right again.
I get up to my feet and go inside.
...
Saturday night goes by quickly. There is an acoustic guitar player singing and playing, and everyone is having a great time. What’s more, for the first time, I am truly able to keep up.
When Hendrix closes up the kitchen, he comes out and looks around. “I’m gonna fill the coolers. Then you can take a break.”
“I’m fine—”
“Livi.” There is a warning in his tone.
“Fine.”
I’m standing outside in the cold when I get that feeling again, the one from last night. There is a tingle on the back of my neck like someone is staring at me, the tingle of someone drinking me in.
When I hear what sounds like a trashcan being tipped over, I quickly make my way inside to the safety of Hooligans. I hate that I feel like part of something here when, in fact, I am only an employee.
I rub my butt for security. ‘I got my own back,’ and that is a reality that I was completely all right with until two days ago. My past has come barreling back into the forefront of my mind, and now I’m skittish, to say the least.
“You okay?” Hendrix asks as he grabs my waist when I attempt to blow by him.
“Yep, fine,” I say, looking up into his deep brown eyes. I put my hands over his, my skin warming immediately. I allow myself to soak it up only for a moment before I push them away and look down. “Excuse me, please.”