Flightless Bird || l.s. ✔︎

ACT II: CHAPTER TEN

"Yes," I said in a tiny voice, half muffled by the pillow.

His fingers wandered down to the waistband of my underwear and I flinched violently.

"Hey," he said, "Calm down. You like boys don't you?"

Yes, I like boys, boys my own age! I screamed inside my head. Beauchamp was as old as my father.

"It's okay to like boys," he said.

"I know that." I tried to think of how an adult might navigate this situation. "I'm not in the mood."

Beauchamp's hand moved over my bare stomach. "I can fix that."

I didn't know what to do. It was the middle of the night. I was a kid alone in a strange city with only a bit of pocket money. I lay there gripping the edge of the bed thinking this couldn't be happening to me.

When he touched me again, in a more intimate place, I made my last plea: "I've never done it."

I was too young to know that this wouldn't stop him, that he probably already knew and it was exactly why he wanted me.

"That's okay, sweetheart. I'll teach you."

***

I don't think I slept that night, or if I did I dreamt of nothing but that dark room.

When I woke up the next morning my body hurt in the most humiliating way imaginable. I wanted to tear my flesh from my bones. I wanted to not be me.

I got in the shower and stood there unmoving as the scalding water fell over my head and shoulders. The night replayed in my mind over and over like images in a flipbook.

Why didn't I leave when I saw that we were sharing a room? Why didn't I call my mum? Why did I take my pants off? Why didn't I just sleep on the floor with the mice? Why? Why? Why?

I stepped into the room with a towel around my waist. Beauchamp was still undressed.

I padded over to my suitcase and frantically fished out my clothes when he came up behind me and placed a hand on my back. His fingers skimmed down to my waist and the towel dropped to the floor. This was when the reality of my situation began to sink in. I wouldn't be doing any sightseeing on this trip. I wasn't here because I was a promising student. I was here because of the things Beauchamp wanted to do to me. That was all. That was the only reason.

How could I have been stupid enough to think that I was a special dancer? I wasn't special. I was a charity case from Cheshire and the worst student in school. I was nothing. I was less than nothing, and now I was disgusting too. The things I did to him, the things he did to me... I hated him but I hated myself more. I didn't defend myself. I didn't fight, bite, kick or scream. I was weak. I let it happen.

And over the course of the trip I let it happen again and again and again. Each time there was less point of fighting. What was I fighting for anyways? Did I even have the right to say no when I gave in the first night? Who was I to say no? I was a nobody. It was better to just get through it, I reasoned. I just had to do whatever he asked and think about something else or let my mind go blank and not think of anything at all.

But by the second night I was so tired and my body hurt so bad I couldn't do it anymore. When Beauchamp was outside making a call I picked up the prescription sleeping pills on his dresser. If I were asleep he might let me be, at least until morning. The dosage was two tablets and I took three to make sure I would be completely knocked out. I popped the pills into my mouth—so desperate for a way out of my situation I barely gave it a second thought.