Dissent (25 page)

“So
where to?” Jay said, looking completely disinterested. Behind
him, Joey looked freaked, Mike look around casually, and Todd looked
the slightest bit interested.

I
felt a sharp pang, remembering sharing the facts about asylums with
Isaiah, how raptly he listened. How interested he was.

I
shook my head. “I want to find the hyrotherapy room. Oh my
god,” I said, grabbing Jay's arm. “How awesome a cover
would that made for an album? All three of us in old asylum
hydrotherapy tubs?”

He
looked down at me, nodding. “That does sound pretty sweet
actually.”

“Todd?”
I asked, looking over my shoulder.

“Sure,”
he said, shrugging, “I don't think I've seen that done before.”

“Exactly,”
I agreed, ducking into the first room off the front of the reception
desk.

“What
is it?” Joey asked from the hall.

“An
exam room,” I shrugged. But there was nothing left. No
equipment. No personal effects. Just tables and chairs and cabinets.

“Hey
over here,” Mike called from the hall, standing in a doorway to
another room.

I
followed him inside, jumping up and down. “Yes!” Because
he had found the hydrotherapy room and it was complete with three,
yes three, old clawfoot tubs with metal pipes sticking out of the
front and the white fabric covers half sinking into the empty space.

“I'm
not getting under that,” Jay said, reaching to touch the edge
of the fabric. “I'm assuming that hole is supposed to be for
our heads?”

“Yeah,”
I said, going over and untying the material, “and your arms can
slip out from the sides because they would put your food tray right
on top of this cover.”

“Ew,”
Jay said, watching me slip in, pushing my head through the old hole.
“Darce that's...”

“What's
the big deal? It's just a little dirty. Take a shower when we get
back to the bus. See,” I said, nodding my head at Todd who was
taking the furthest tub, untying the material and slipping under. Jay
grimaced, but moved toward the tub next to me. “Someone tie us
in.”

“Is
that really necessary?” Jay asked, pushing his head through the
hole and looking utterly grossed out.

“Oh
shut up,” I said, watching Mike quickly tie me then move on to
Jay.

“Okay,”
he said, stepping back and pulling out his cell. “Smile,”
he said dryly.

“Take
a bunch,” I told him, wanting options to choose from.

“Hey
Darce,” Jay said, turning to me with a sly smile, “this
would make a nice Christmas card for your parents, don't you think?”

And
then I laughed. A long, rich, happy laugh.

It
would be okay. They would get me through.

I
was elbows deep in an abandoned chest in the corner of one of the
patient rooms, carefully pulling out the items, trying to figure out
something about the person who lived there. According to stories,
nine thousand people died during their stay at the Allen Lunatic
Asylum. Often, due to overpopulation and careless staff members,
bodies wouldn't be found until days later, already rotting in corners
or on their own beds.

“Oh
look at this!” I heard Mike say a few rooms down. He was
turning out to be a lot more into it that he thought he would. Maybe
I would have another ghost hunting buddy eventually. Though I hadn't
even once come close to coming across anything that I could even
remotely describe as haunted. Just creepy. Dark. Heartbreaking.
Fascinating.

“Hey,
we're heading up to the next floor,” Jay said, standing in the
doorway.

“Okay,
I'll be there in a minute,” I said, looking down at an old
black-and-white photograph.

“You
sure you don't want us to wait?”

“What?
Afraid a ghost is going to get me?” I laughed, looking over my
shoulder. “I'm fine. Go.”

I
heard their feet down the hall and reached back into the chest,
finding a
Flora Devotional
book. I pulled open the cover,
finding a lovely handwritten inscription,
“May- Choose one
for the wedding. - Barry”

I
felt a pang of sadness, no doubt exasperated by my recent little
tiptoe into heartache. I
put
the book back into the chest carefully.

A
hand went around me, clamping over my mouth hard, then another across
my throat. I struggled, but in my kneeling position, all I managed to
do was send myself falling back onto my ass. My heart was slamming in
my chest, my stomach swirling around, making me think I was genuinely
going to throw up. I sucked air in through my nose, screaming against
his hand, hoping that the sound would be loud enough to carry.

“That's
right,” a voice said near my ear, deep and hissing, too unusual
to be someone's normal every day timbre, “scream. I can't wait
to get you alone one day and make you scream until you lose your
fucking voice. And then I'll take this,” he growled, shifting
and I felt his hard cock press into my ass, “and fuck you while
you can't do anything but lay there and take it. Soon,” he
said, pressing hard against my throat. Too hard. I was feeling the
wooziness, the tingling of my lips and cheeks. He was completely
cutting off my air supply. “You will be mine, you whore. But
not yet,” I heard him say as unconsciousness finally claimed
me.

I
woke up alone, terrified, on the floor next to the chest. Seconds. I
knew that was all it could have been. You don't stay out for longer
than half a minute from being choked. It was just seconds. I brought
my hand to my throat, the skin painful under my hand, bruised.
Inside, my throat felt like it was on fire. But I took a long, deep
breath, not caring about the pain and screamed. “Jay!”

He
came flying into the room a few minutes later, his face a mask of
absolute horror, throwing himself down on the floor in front of me.
“What? What happened? Darcy?” he grabbed my face, shaking
me once, making me realize I was still screaming.

“Someone
grabbed me,” I said, my throat feeling like I swallowed glass,
“from behind and put their hand over my mouth and my,” I
said, pulling my hand away from my throat and showing him the purple
skin.

“Jesus
fuck,” he said, turning and giving the guys a look they
immediately understood: fan out, find him, he can't be far. “Did
he do anything?” he asked, stroking my cheek.

I
shook my head. “No, but he wanted to. He said he couldn't wait
to get me alone and rape me. He was hard,” I said, feeling bile
in my throat. “And then he just... choked me out. I woke up and
started screaming.”

His
arms went out, going around me and pulling me across his lap. “I'm
sorry I left you,” he murmured, kissing my temple.

“You
didn't know. You couldn't have known.”

He
held me for a long time, both of us waiting. Waiting to hear
something. Yelling. Fighting. Something. Anything. But all there was
was silence. “Did you recognize his voice? Or see anything on
him? Tattoos? Anything?”

“No,”
I said, turning my head into his shirt. “He was talking in a
weird voice. But his arms were just skin colored. Light. He was
kind-of pale. His cock felt small. That's it. It was so fast.”

“Small
cock huh?” Jay asked, chuckling slightly. “Well we know
one thing for sure now.”

“What?”
I asked, hearing the footsteps of the guys come back, slow, defeated.

“It
wasn't Isaiah.”

He
was right. I mean it was over fast. And I didn't recognize the voice.
But I had felt him. His hands, the press of his chest, his hips, his
erection. None of it was Isaiah. Isaiah was more solid, his hands
stronger and scarred. I would have felt that cross pressed into my
skin.
Isaiah was taller. And
his cock was bigger. I had felt that plenty in the past to be able to
compare it.

It
wasn't Isaiah.

Oh,
god.

“That's
a good thing, isn't it?” Jay asked at my silence.

“Sure,”
I said quietly, “except he will never forgive me now.”

“You
never know.”

But
I did know. I knew. I knew with a certainty that made my soul hurt.
He would never forgive me. Because all I had done was reinforce his
belief that women couldn't be trusted. That we were weak and
emotional. That all we were good for was spread legs and open mouths.
Because when you tried to have more than that with us, we fuck you
over.

“There's
no one here,” Mark said, shaking his head, looking
disappointed. Like he was looking forward to a fight. He probably
was. “You okay? Did he... hurt you.”

“Her
throat is sore,” Jay said, getting to his feet, holding me to
his chest like a baby, “but she's fine. Let's get the fuck out
of here.”

They
forced me to go to the hospital where we were met with police who
weren't overly happy about us trespassing, but were willing to let it
slide in exchange for some autographs. They took an account of the
what happened, filled out reports, and told us they would be in
touch. But they wouldn't. Because there was nothing to go on. I was
advised by my doctor not to do a show for a week and sent back to the
Bus.

“Hey
Darcy,” Mike called as soon as we had all gotten back and
changed, Burt watching us like a worried papa dog.

“What?”
I asked, walking back toward the bathroom.

He
stepped back out of the way, sending me a look as he watched me see
what he had seen.

Soon.

It
was scrawled across the bathroom mirror in my red lipstick. “How
the fuck does someone keep getting on the bus?” Burt asked,
looking confused.

“I
don't know,” I said, climbing up into my bunk and pulling the
curtain.

Because
I did know.

Someone
wasn't getting on the bus.

It
was someone on the bus.

One
of those men, my men, the ones I trusted with my life, the ones who
knew everything about me, the ones I thought I knew everything about.

Apparently
there was one thing I didn't know.

Which
one of them wanted to hurt me.

Twenty-one

It
was the loneliest I had ever felt. Not even growing up in my parent's
house, treated like furniture most of the time, and hauled out and
paraded around like a prize pony when it served their purpose,
compared to the way I felt in the days after the trip to the asylum.

I
took to my bunk and was left alone, Jay insisting that I needed some
time alone to think about things.

And
he wasn't wrong. I did need to think. I needed to think about every
day I had spent with those men. I needed to recall every thing they
had ever said. Every time they joked about women. When they talked
down about them. When they talked about violence. When they they
mentioned rape. Was it with horror? Disgust? Was it with a morbid
curiosity? Was it with lust? Did any of them ever belittle me? Sure,
they teased me non-stop, but had anyone ever crossed a line?

Did
any of them look at me with desire? Granted, that was a hard one for
me. I was not shy. I had been stark naked around them plenty of
times. If they looked at my body and felt desire, it was something
that was normal, natural. Even if we did have such a tight, almost
familial bond. We weren't family. Their cocks didn't discriminate.
They see tits, and ass, and pussy and they wanted to touch, slap, and
slid in.

But
had anyone ever looked too long? Looked at me when I was dressed the
same way? Like they could still see me naked? Did anyone ever get too
close? Touch me inappropriately?

Aside
from Jay and Todd. Jay and Todd who were the only ones who were
automatically crossed off the list. Silly, flirtatious Jay who loved
me more than anything in his life, who could have fucked me when we
were younger, but didn't want to. And Todd, sweet, innocent Todd.

So
that left the boys: Mike and Joey. And it left Burt.

Which
made me kind of sick. Burt. Burt who I had learned to see as a
father. Burt who had his eyes on the road so much of the time. But
Burt also wasn't quiet about shunning our behavior. Especially mine.
And while I had never actually caught him staring at me like the
other guys, he was always faced away. For all I knew, he was watching
in the rear view. And he could be heard masturbating in the middle of
the night, furiously stroking his cock, breathing heavily, and
letting out a string of low curses. It was entirely possible he was
jerking off thinking of touching me. Hurting me.