The Rape of Proserpine
Seventeen
The falling lasted a lifetime, and when I crash-landed, it was hard and shattering. Humans, I thought solemnly, were so breakable; so brittle to the core; so very fragile. And when it was time to fall apart to pieces, the only thing we could do was close our eyes and wait for the impact. Sweet agony, and beyond that was liberation from all the evils of this world. An eternity of sleep. The healing of the deepest wounds to forge scars that would become us. The sweeping of every memory like long-settled dust being blown over by a gentle breeze. The purification of the soul inside of a weather-beaten body. Rest. Peace. Numbness.
It was like waking from a dream after waking from another one. The dream, from what I remember of it, was tiring. It was as if I’ve ran a marathon instead of sleeping and dreaming. And when full wakefulness came after staring at the empty ceiling, I realized I wasn’t alone. You’ve never really been alone, Darrel. I gulped and turned to my side.
Calvin Archibald’s face resembled a boy who was being bullied in school while sleeping. It was a pitiful sight, but then I wondered what was more pitiful: being bullied in sleep or being bullied in reality. I smiled. “Fuck you, Calvin Archibald,” I hissed whilst leaning close to his face. Close enough to feel his breath against the surging hate inside every part of me. “I hope you rot in fucking hell.” The tips of his closed eyes twitched but he didn’t really stir. “You didn’t fuck me. I. Fucked. You.”
“Coward.” I stiffened. “You are a miserable coward, Darrel Connelly, and for that you got royally fucked. Not by Calvin, but by the rest of us.” The voice came from the corner of the room, shadowed by the living shadows residing inside the room. I turned slowly just as a lone figure stepped outside the safety of the darkness. I wasn’t surprised at who emerged from there. I guess I had known. “Hello, Darrel. It’s a pleasure to have you here now and forever.”
A smile for a smile. “Emma. Nice of you to finally show up.” Talking to her and looking at her calm expression was an ugly burden I must bear. I glanced at Calvin’s still form and looked back, an apologetic expression cascading my face. “I’d offer you a space in this bed but your brother’s too greedy to share.” If anything, Emma’s look only intensified in its serenity. It was as if she was incapable of feeling anything other than inner peace. I fought the feeling of walking up to her and simply twisting her long, smooth neck in one fluid motion. I knew there’d be no fun in that. None at all from a quick death. Especially from someone like Emma fucking Archibald.
“Calvin’s a heavy sleeper. He won’t wake up ‘til later,” she said in an almost whimsical voice.
“Okay,” I replied while pushing my torso up using my elbows and then leaned on the headboard. I unconsciously rubbed my wrists, bearing marks of rope and struggle. The sheet fell down to my lap, exposing my bruised body to her eyes. If she looked, she did it very discreetly. I only felt disgusted at the Angels of Appleton. God, how I wanted them bleeding on the floor, gasping for every breath. “You said I was a coward.”
Emma tried for a sympathetic face that ended up coming silly. “It’s the truth.”
I waited for more, anything from her, but she didn’t talk again. No explanations. No reasons. No nothing. Just silence and plenty of eye contact. “I suppose.” I didn’t know if her silence meant that he wanted me to do all the shit-talking.
The quiet was broken by Calvin’s grunt. For a second I thought he’d open his eyes and join his sister. He didn’t. Instead, he snuggled closer to me like a moth to a flame and expelled a satisfied sigh at the touch of my skin. Pathetic.
Emma walked at the foot of the bed and sat ever so gracefully. There we were, like life-long friends in a sleepover. I watched her form sentences in her head and waited for them to flood out of her supple, pink lips. The right time for the perfect conversation had come, it seemed.
“My brother loves you.” I tried to battle against the tide of emotions welling up in my chest and tried to destroy and overcome the slight tug it caused. What he did to me already gave that away. “It’s a pity that he never had the courage to tell you. You knew how terribly shy he could be.”
“Is that it?”
“No.” She paused. We both figured we were in dangerous territory now. “But it was the seed that gave birth to all the tragedy that happened. His perverted love for you.”
“Or your hate for his perverted love for me,” I said through hard-clenched teeth.
Emma shook her head like she would to a child. “Your love for Marel made you do things you couldn’t ever be proud of. I did the same for my brother. Somehow, we’re kindred spirits. We are alike.”
I shuddered at the mere suggestion. “That’s bullshit.”
“You and I are afflicted with a painful, incurable disease called love. More than anybody else you should be the one to understand that I did what I did to save my brother.”
“And saving your brother meant killing my own brother? “ She flinched. She did not expect the bluntness and the sharp edge of my accusation. I saw a crack and I’d be doomed if I let it slip away. “How could-“
“It was your life or Calvin’s,” she interjected, cheeks flushed and golden curls tossed to the side. “It was never my intention to hurt anybody. Especially not Marel. I made a choice and I chose Calvin. I’d do it again if I had to.” She was worked up now, almost pleading. Pleading for what, though? Forgiveness? Absolution?
“You are not sorry.”
“No I am not,” she confirmed.
At that moment, I have found God in my own personal way.
My hands found their way around Emma’s neck, squeezing the breath and life out of her. She was thrashing and gasping and clawing at my face. Her eyes, crystal blue and bright, bulged out of their sockets in fear and terror. I squeezed tighter, enjoying all the little, mournful sounds coming from her. Harder. Gratifying. More and more pressure came from my fingers and every little change in her expression and the noises were lifting me up higher and higher to God knew where. I never realized I was grinning. It all just felt good. Too pleasurable. Something I could get used to. To hold someone else’s life at the palm of my hands and play with it. To have the opportunity to actually take it away for good. To be powerful. The angel of death personified in me. Fun. Yes, the fun of doing the ultimate evil ever known to mankind. It was what I longed for ever since Marel vanished. Payment. And I wanted it now and I would take it whatever way I desired.
“Die, Emma! Fucking die!”
But it all ended too soon. My eyes blurred and a terrible pain swallowed my head. Before I could properly register the situation, my knees trembled and I fell to the ground with visions of Calvin’s face swimming in my brain. Then everything turned black. Everything hurt. And then nothingness.
XXXX
I woke up from the sound of hazy voices, like I did several times before. The only difference this time was the urgency in the air. So much of it that I was breathing it in and out. And then I knew that something was about to happen. Something bad. Something horrible.
… and when I crash-landed, it was hard and shattering…close our eyes and wait for the impact.
“No! Please, I beg you, don’t do this! No! No! No!” Calvin. He was in between crying and begging. Over and over all I could hear were his screams that ‘No, they shouldn’t do this.’ I attempted to sit up but the muscles in my body burned. I groaned. I couldn’t move. I was tied carefully to the bed, limiting any form of movement.
“…demands it should be done.”
“No! Please, NO! NO! NO! You can’t do this! You just can’t! NO! NO! NO!”
I opened my eyes and saw them staring. The way people stare at funerals. How they didn’t want to be there and just wanted it to be over. The face of suffering and persistent humanity mixed together. I stared at each and every one of them, their faces branded to my memory. All of them I knew and grew up with in Appleton. The whole congregation of Reverend Archibald came to witness the impending event. The punishing. The stoning of the sinner.
“He’s awake, father.” Emma’s voice rang high and loud and it required no effort to locate her among the crowd. “It’s time.”
The room filled with Calvin’s wails. “NOOO!!!”
I closed my eyes and exhaled. It was time indeed. Whatever it was.
“You better tie Calvin. Here, tie him. Front row seat, boy. You better be grateful.” Scattered sniggers. More of Calvin’s voice boomed in a deafening explosion. He was struggling. He was sobbing. He was fighting a losing fight. Sounds of footsteps. Repeated scraping of a chair. Cursing. Hushed whispering. Fucking noises impossible to tune out.
And when it was time to fall apart to pieces, the only thing we could do was close our eyes and wait for the impact.
I’ve decided to accept whatever was in store for me: both the good and the bad.
The noises subsided a little bit. I felt indescribable fear. I was scared. Calvin’s begging tore through all other sounds. Poor Calvin. I was drained. Please let whatever was supposed to happen be quick, I prayed. A prayer I knew like all prayers would go unheard and unanswered.
Hands were suddenly all over me and a great sigh of quiet reigned, except Calvin’s broken pleas. I let them do whatever they wanted to do to me. I resigned from battling. Instead, I wallowed in the moment of the execution of God’s law as understood and implemented by human hands. The community I thought I was a part of. A member of their family was at the pulpit to be played with like a rag doll and yet they were doing nothing. Human nature at its best. The thirst for some cruelty and the violation of their moral rules. That something that was okay as long as it wasn’t done to them.
They knew all along. These people right here. And what about my parents? My friends? River? Did they know?
I wanted River now. I needed my mom and my dad. I needed and wanted Marel.
The ropes were loosened and I was as free as a cornered rat in a room full of cats. Someone held me up roughly and then pushed me sprawling on the bed. I didn’t struggle. I didn’t even dare look who did it. Was it Mr. Frazier who mowed his lawn every Sunday? Or was it Mr. Lehman whose daughter had a crush on Marel? Too many people to choose from. Too many evils that could occur. I didn’t allow myself to cry. They came here for something. All the faithful of Appleton came here to watch something inflicted upon me.
Calvin cried.
I turned my head and opened my eyes again. Calvin, why can’t you just shut up and enjoy? Directly in front of my sight was Mrs. Sinclair, sporting a frozen look. When our eyes met, her hands shot to cover her mouth and she looked away. She started retching. The morning of her daughter’s disappearance came to my mind. Narcissa Sinclair. I closed my eyes as the retching sounds mingled with Calvin’s voice. The Sinclairs and the Archibalds. And then it dawned on me. The two families connected by a marriage. A conspiracy. I was in awe at the swift trick they did. But not for long. My eyes stayed shut as someone grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me with it to a kneeling position. A position of total surrender. Of submission to a force greater than mine.
“Open your eyes faggot!”
The hand grabbing the back of my head by the hair tightened hurtfully. I didn’t have the chance to stifle the sound of pain escaping my throat. “You heard the guy. Open your queer eyes, fucker!” The crowd cheered, their collective voices spurring each and everybody. It took me a minute to force myself to believe that this was really happening. That this was real. I could feel the pain. I could hear their voices. I could smell their sweat. I could feel their anticipation.
I obeyed. I beheld monsters.
Men and women alike. The people in school. Some peers. They inched closer to make sure I could feel their penetrating gaze. Out of nowhere, someone spat and the substance landed on my right cheek, just below my eye, before it started its slimy way down. I blinked and clenched my jaw. This was it.
I raised my eyes and right before me was the solemn face of Reverend Archibald, flanked by a calm Emma and a…Calvin. He was so broken. Possibly more broken than I was as our stares lingered for a while. Then he began saying sorry the exact same way he did saying no. I had nothing to say. I was here to entertain them all. I-
“Do it now.”
“No! Father! No! You can’t! NO!”
The Reverend shut him up with a stinging slap that echoed around the room. “You will behave and watch what every dick-loving faggot deserves! Do you hear me?! You will watch the love of your life get fucked repeatedly!”
“No…” Another slap, much harder. Calvin’s cheek was as red as blood.
“I will hear no more. And you damn make sure to look him in the eyes when they use him. See him for the real abomination the he is.”
“Father,” Emma cooed, laying a hand on his shoulder. I wondered if Marel experienced this kind of treatment. No. Even if I didn’t want to, my mind started imagining him to be in my place; nearly naked with a phlegmatic saliva on his face. Debased. Taken down as if he wasn’t human at all. And yet, to my surprise, no tears fell down my cheeks. This was the consummation of everything. After this, the chain of events would stop. No more real and fake disappearances. No more deceit. No more existence for me. All would be buried, every split-second, together with my corpse somewhere in the deep woods.
No one would ever find out. My flesh would rot and my bones would wither away to ashes. All those who came would die and bring the memories in a tiny cellar within their twisted brains, safely locked and hidden. A finality. A closure.
All because Calvin loved me and his sister and father loved him and I loved my brother and everybody present loved their belief.
I opened my mouth but nothing came out. A silent scream.
“Go ahead and teach this cocksucker a life lesson.”
The sky opened up and the heaven cried tears of falling stars.