We Watched the City Burn

Chapter 28

Warning: This chapter contains rape themes, reader discretion is advised. 

I could feel him holding me down, my head against the pillow, cutting off my ability to breathe, but this was His goal, if I can’t breathe, I can’t scream. I’m thankful for the darkness that I’m veiled in, but the dark does nothing to ease the fire that rips through me with every single thrust; the more aroused he becomes, the harder he rams into me, and I can feel my entrance tearing, ripping and blood dripping down my legs.

I try as hard as I can not to make a sound, if I so much as whimper, He’ll beat the shit out of me, then finish, twice as rough as he is now. I just keep thinking of stars, and praying that He’ll finish soon, so all of this can be over.

Suddenly, He grabs a fistful of my hair, and yanks, tearing the hair from the roots, and try as I might to stay silent, a scream bubbled from my mouth, and I know for certain what’s coming for me…

“Matt! Matt wake up, Matt!” Aurora shakes me, her hands tightly gripping my still-bruised arms. I open my eyes, and I’m shocked to see that I’m not in my room, I’m in the warm, dark den, at Aurora’s home. I’m safe…

I’m shaking so much that the bed beneath me is trembling, without thinking, I cling to Aurora, and grind my teeth together to keep from sobbing. She strokes my back, like my mother used to, tells me it was all a dream, that I’m safe. He can’t hurt me anymore, she says, I wish I could believe that, but as long as my heart is beating, I know he can always hurt me.

Maybe not with his fists, not anymore, but so long as I hold the memories of what happened inside of me, he can always hurt me and he always will.

Aurora rocks me slowly, cooing softly in my ear until my chest stops heaving, until I feel no longer feel like I am going to get sucked into space. Even after my heart stops hammering,  the dream melting away in the wake of conscious thought, I do not want to let go of her. Touching someone makes me real, makes all of it easier to forget. Holding on to her reminds me of the here and now, and keeps me from falling backward into the past; she keeps me here, and reminds me that things are slowly getting better.

The only reason I let go of Aurora is to go to the bathroom, after peeing, I scrub my face with ice cold water, and watch the beads of water drip off my face. They cling to my hair and eyelashes, flushing my pale cheeks with the shock of cold. A few more splashes, and that chases the dream away; without bothering to dry my face, I return to me room to find Aurora gone.

I stop walking for a moment; I can hear someone banging around in the kitchen, running water, the lighting of a stove burner. I slink to the kitchen and peak around the corner, Aurora has just put on a kettle of tea, and is digging through her pantry for something.

I slip into the chair nearest to the hallway, so I can escape if her mother comes home; call me odd, but I don’t want that woman seeing me so vulnerable, I feel like I would be letting her down in some way.

Aurora pulls out a bag of store-bought brownie mix, and begins to pile the rest of the required ingredients onto the counter. I consider helping her, but baking is not my forte, my mother was never allowed to teach me how to bake, He deemed it too ‘girly’.  Instead, I wait at the table, watching her as she mixes, pours, and eventually puts a baking pan full of gooey brown paste into the oven, beepbeeps the timer and washes her hands.

Aurora sits down at the table, across from me, and remarks, “My mother always made me tea when I had a nightmare, I didn’t really know what else to do but make you tea. I’m not good with stuff like this.”

Her voice is soft, almost like she’s ashamed that she wasn’t prepared for my night terror, which is insane. It’s not her job to be able to see these things coming. I’m just about to tell her this, when she look at me, eyes blazing.

“I want to kill him for doing what he did to you, Matt. I do, I want to kill him, hurt him worse than he ever hurt you. I’m so angry, I can’t stand it.” She pushes the palms of her hands into her eyeballs, like if she pushes hard enough, she can force the anger out.

I don’t know what to tell her, more than anything, I just don’t want to talk about any of this; I want to talk about boring, every day things, like socks, the weather and sports. I want to feel like my life, at some point, can be boring and average.

I want to know that there is some part of the world that’s not spinning and exploding from chaos, anger and hate. I need someplace that’s free of that, I need a quiet place.

I clear my throat, and shake my head, letting Aurora know that now is not, NOT the time to talk about this. She nods her head, then turns her attention to the tea kettle, waits for it to whistle. While we wait for the brownies to bake and the water to heat, my hand finds hers, of it’s on accord, and holds on tightly. Like she’s all I’ve got left, because, in a way, she is.

Aurora squeezes back, and smiles at me, a shy, cute smile, just like the first time back in school. I look at her red hair, her freckles and wild eyes, her small, soft hands, so different from mine. I breathe in the smell of her coconut shampoo, and lean forward.

She meets me halfway, and lets me press my lips to hers first, giving me complete control of the situation. And, for a moment or two, I can feel my entire body buzzing, something inside me glows and I feel stronger, better, somehow. But, only for a moment or two, after that, the kettle whistles, and we’re back in reality.

And I’m just the poor boy, beaten, bruised and damaged, trying to escape from his nightmares, and she’s the girl who cares enough to bother with me.