The Rape of Proserpine

The Rape of Proserpine Chapter Four

The Rape of Proserpine

Four

“What’s eating you today?” My mom asked, placing a plateful of food in front of me. The sun had just risen on the bleak horizon, but we were already up and kicking to face the day ahead.

“Is it your hair again?” Marel laughed beside me, his mouth full of buttered toast, and a thick book was spread open beside his plate.

“No talking while your mouth is full, Marel,” dad reprimanded, almost every morning, behind the newspaper he was reading. I snickered. It was an ordinary breakfast at the Connelly residence. Everybody was multi- tasking except me. Mom frisked about in her pink floral apron doing four to five things in the kitchen at the same time; dad read the business section with a cup of coffee in one hand while constantly glancing at the clock on the wall; Marel was reading something while munching and bickering with me. I shot him one final nasty look before taking a bite of bread.

It went that way for about ten minutes, nothing unusual. We were perfectly unaware of the huge blow that we were about to receive later that normal day. Neither did the entire Appleton population, except one, whoever he was.

“I hate the way your hair looks so coiffed. Mine seems to have a mind of its own,” I complained, glaring at Marel’s hair. I tugged at the tips of hair on my forehead as if to prove my point. “It’s unfair.” Dad grunted, while mom and Marel let out throaty but brief chuckles. “Not even funny,” I muttered glumly, gnawing at my toast.

Marel, the older and nicer between the two of us, leaned closer to me and whispered. “Well, this might help you feel better.” I turned my head and eyed him suspiciously. “I hate the way your brown eyes look so cunning and fierce, like right now.” He had a stupid smile plastered on his face. It was the only difference we had that could be easily seen without digging deeper under our skin, our eyes.

I rolled my eyes and paid him a twisted smile that probably came out as a grimace. “Right, because your green eyes are just about as soft and gullible next to Reverend Archibald.” If I had known what was about to happen, I should’ve said thank you and smiled genuinely at him. But I didn’t. Instead, after excusing myself, I raced upstairs and stopped in front of Marel’s door. I made sure no one was coming before I crept inside, going straight to his bathroom. I grabbed his toothbrush from the holder and dipped it in the toilet, a smile painted on my lips. If I had only known, I shouldn’t have bothered. He never came back. He never had the chance to use his toothbrush again.

We had lost him, unmercifully, forcefully and so suddenly. The Connelly residence was never the same after that.

My hand trembled as I strained to steady my eyes. Carefully and slowly, with heightened concentration, I finally succeeded in putting the first lens on, blinking to get my one eye accustomed to the feeling of having something attached to my eyeball. After a few seconds’ worth of deep breaths, the blinking ceased. Half of the person staring right back at me was Marel, the other half was Darrel. A glorious and mystifying moment. Two persons in one flesh, fused together like missing jigsaw puzzles. I touched the face in the mirror, thinking that if I wanted to draw the monster walking freely in the streets of Appleton to me, I would have to move heaven and hell. And now, I was doing it. I had beaten the odds and paved a way to become Marel. Only one last green lens to seal the metamorphosis. Only one last green lens for the black butterfly to come out of its hiding place. One last move, and Marel Connelly would live again, and Darrel would be the one to disappear. For Marel to come back, I would need to sacrifice myself. Darrel should be erased for a while. I should die.

Just like the first, the second lens fitted my eyes perfectly. Marel was renewed.

Eyes wider than the full moon, mouth that opened and closed slowly, and an unbreakable subsiding of sound greeted me when I entered the school. I had taken each and every soul’s breath away. I guess the eye color was the only hindrance to totally fooling the world.

“He’s back,” a voice mumbled unconsciously in a way to relieve the mind of blowing over. And so, the buzzing began.

The commotion could have lasted for forever, and I made no attempt to cut it short. That was until Sam busted into the picture and spilled the beans. “Stop!” I hissed in pain as Kenon dragged me the entire way to the bathroom, his fingers and uncut nails bruising my arm. He was handling me like I was a ball of yarn, and if that wasn’t degrading enough, the way he pushed me on the wall after locking the door and gripped my throat sure did make me feel like an animal. “Kenon,” I gasped. He wasn’t totally strangling me, but it was enough to conjure fear to float in the depths of my stomach. “You’re hurting me.” My voice sounded like it came from a wounded puppy, almost dying.

“I know,” he grumbled, our faces almost touching. “Stop playing this game of yours, Darrel, because this might not end well with you.”

“Like I care,” I rasped as I searched for something in his almost vacant eyes. A trace of violence or a thirst for blood, anything. “Damn-”

His fist tightened a bit, nearly cutting my air supply. “Shut up and listen to me!”

“Kenon.” His head and my eyes spun so fast to locate the source of the sound. “Leave Darrel alone.” My eyes watered when Kenon snatched his hand away, my body dropping slightly to the floor, as I coughed, my lungs taking in huge gulps of air. I didn’t even realize I was suspended on the wall.

“What are you doing here?!” Kenon asked threateningly.

“You could’ve killed him,” Calvin Archibald glanced at me, the innocence in his features washed away by what he had witnessed. “I was inside a cubicle,” he answered Kenon, “I didn’t plan to interrupt but the sounds got the better of me.”

I leaned my back on the wall and slid down, eyes closed, deep painful breaths cutting through me. They were still talking, Kenon with menace, and Calvin with superficial calmness. I couldn’t bear to hear anymore of Kenon’s voice. Right at this moment, my gut was screaming revenge. Kenon Stockinger was capable of taking someone’s life. The audacity to look at my face and do what he did was just too much. I couldn’t believe it. Kenon. “Kenon,” I whimpered.

“Darrel! Darrel wake up!” I sat up on my bed hastily, looking around with big startled eyes at the familiar scenery of my own bedroom. Sweat dripped from my forehead to my chin, down to the sheets as I heaved for oxygen. “Are you okay? You were groaning and thrashing in your sleep.”

I turned and saw River beside me, worried sick. “Nightmare…” I began, and then trailed off. I didn’t feel like I needed to add anything else.

“I figured,” he said, running a hand through his messy hair. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t hear you come in,” I stated after a while, changing the subject.

He sighed before replying. “I had an argument with the old man. Your mom was kind enough to let me in in the middle of the night without calling.”

“Oh. Good then.”

“I didn’t wake you when I heard you snoring loudly,” he joked in an attempt to lighten up the mood.

“Sure,” I said absentmindedly, falling back on the bed, head spinning like a top. “Where are you going?” River was almost at the door when I noticed that he left the bed.

“To the couch?”

“Oh please, you were beside me while I groaned and thrashed, I have absolutely nothing left to hide from you anymore.”

Through the cloak of darkness, his smile started an invisible fire inside the room. I could literally feel the heat bouncing off the walls and the ceiling. “Are you sure? I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”

I stifled a laugh and patted the extra space on the bed beside me. “Just get back here.”

“Who am I to refuse such an offer?” He whispered as he slowly climbed back on the bed, draping his body with the blankets.