Lost (42 page)

  “Sophie, look at me,” he said as I shook my head no. “Look. At. Me.  I want you to look at me and tell me what's going on with you.  I want to know how you're feeling and how I can help.”
  Exhaling, I spoke the truth. “You can't help me, and I don't want you here anymore.  You killed me when you left, and you keep killing me.  Everything that has happened has been because of you.  Well, not everything I guess, but a lot of it.  And I'm tired of always loving you when you don't love me back.”
  “I DO love you.  I left you the letter and the paintings, and I tried to tell you, but my hands were tied.  They still are.”
  “How?  Please explain it to me,” I begged finally turning to look at him.
  Looking, I finally saw him as he sat beside me, and he was gross.  Peter smelled clean, but he looked dirty.  It's almost like he purposely dirtied his clothes before putting them on.  He looked unwashed but he smelled clean, which was a total contrast I could actually see.
  Peter’s hair was too long, and his nasty beard was raggedy and ugly on his smooth face.  Everything just looked so wrong about him I couldn't quite figure it out.  I wanted to know why he looked like he did, with the fake tattoos down his neck and the ugly clothes.  I wanted to know why he looked terrible but still smelled clean like the Peter I remembered.

  “What's happening?” I asked quietly.
 
 

CHAPTER 33

  “I can't tell you anything... But I can show you how I feel,” he said leaning forward to kiss me instead of talking.
  Peter kissed me and after my initial gasp I was instantly thrown back into the passionate relationship we had had.  Peter kissed me like I remembered, and I let him.  He took my lips in that slow methodical way he had of exploring my mouth as his hand held my face close to him.  Peter kissed me and I forgot all the anger and the confusion surrounding his sudden return.
  Kissing me, Peter slipped out of his filthy jacket, and as I pulled away to look, I saw his clothes underneath were clean and normal looking.  He wasn't filthy underneath at all, it was just the surface that was gross.
  “Why?” I begged, but he shook his head no again.
  “Sophie... There’s so much I have to tell you, and I will as soon as I can.  I'm not asking you to wait for me though, I'm just asking you to be patient for the answers I can't tell you right now.  I'll find you later when I can, and I promise to tell you everything.  It's just not safe right now, and there's too much to lose if I start talking now.”
  “You don't want me to wait?  What if I move on and find someone else?  What then?”
  Calmly, like he knew it was too hard to imagine me moving on, Peter said, “Then I'll still find you and tell you all the answers you want, but I'll walk away afterward.  I'm not looking for you to wait for me, I just need you to wait for the answers.  That's all, I promise.”
  “And if I find someone else to be with?  Someone to love?” I asked with dread in my heart.
  “Then I'll tell you the answers only, and I'll wish you well, always.  I want you to be happy, Sophie.  I always did.  I always tried to make you happy when we were together.”
  “I was happy...” I moaned.
  “Then I did okay.  I loved you as best as I could for as long as I had.”
  “But you left me,” I cried.
  “Not by choice. 
Never
by choice.  I didn't want to leave you ever, but I
had
to,” he seemed to beg me to understand.
  Frustrated, I just couldn’t let it go. “You keep saying you didn’t have a choice, but it doesn't fix anything.”
  “It's all I've got.  So it has to be enough for now,” he said sadly.
  Breathing him while thinking of everything Peter, I looked at his sad face and realized it was enough.  For now.
  “What happened to you last Monday?” He asked so calmly, I answered the question calmly.  There was always something about Peter that just calmed me and made me open up to him.  Even after all the time apart, it was still the same between us.
  “I was raped in my bedroom,” I confessed as he looked away for a second and visibly shook beside me.
  After I spoke softly the silence dragged for only a few seconds until Peter looked back at me sadly and took my hand in his own.

  “Do they have any leads, or a suspect?” He asked in a different tone than I was used to.
  “Not yet.  There was no DNA evidence in me which hurt the investigation, but was better for me because obviously he used a condom,” I said as he nodded.  “They did get some skin cells from under my one hand though, but a blood sample from the floor was mine.”
  “Did he hurt you badly, Sophie?” Peter asked shaking.
  Stunned, I snapped at his stupid question.  “Of course, Peter.  How couldn't it hurt?”
  “I mean emotionally.  Are you still struggling?”
  “
Jesus, Peter...
Of course I am.  Of course I'm
emotionally
messed up.  I'm sleeping in the living room because I'm afraid of my bedroom, and I'm scared of the front door being behind me even though he probably came through the kitchen window.  I haven't seen my brother since it happened because I don't want him picturing me being raped, and I hate my job now because everyone looks at me all weird.  My mom’s still great but she keeps pushing me to go to therapy which I don't want to go to, and I wanted you to help me but you weren't there!” I yelled.
  “I'm so sorry I wasn't there to protect you,” he cried.
  “It doesn't matter.”
  “It
does
matter.”
  “It really doesn't.  It's over now,” I exhaled.
  “Is it?  Then why are you sleeping in the living room?”
  “Because my bedroom is contaminated now.  It's not the same anymore,” I said but didn't explain why. 
  I couldn't possibly say it didn't have him in there anymore, and I couldn't possibly explain the shrine to all things Peter that had kept me living through his absence.  I didn't want him to know I still loved him, and I didn't want him to know my bedroom was dirty now that he had been raped out of it.
 

  “Come with me,” he said standing, but I knew what he was doing.  I knew it, and I couldn't possibly do what he wanted me to do.
  “I'm not going in there.”
  “Yes, you are.  With me.  I'm going to show you your room isn't contaminated,” he pushed trying to make me rise by pulling my hand.  But I shook my head no again. “Well, I'm going in, and I'll wait for you to join me.  I'll show you its okay,” he said leaving me.
  After I watched him leave, I waited for what felt like hours, but was probably no more than minutes.  Then I did what I'm sure he expected- I walked to the hallway and leaned against the doorframe of my room.  I waited and watched Peter watching me while sitting on my bed.
  “It's inside the covers,” I whispered.
  “No, it isn't,” he replied standing and pulling down the new comforter and sheets to slide in.  “It's not contaminated.  Everything is clean and healthy in here.  Your bed isn't contaminated, Sophie.  Nothing is.”
  “I am,” I choked.
  “You're not.”
  “I am.  I had an orgasm, Peter,” I cried out embarrassed.
  “That doesn't matter.”
  “Yes, it does.  I got off until he started hurting me.  I got off Peter, and I'm filthy now,” I whispered desperately through my humiliation.
  “Come here, Sophie.  Come sit beside me,” he begged with his hand extended beckoning me to him, until I did.  Unbelievably, I walked toward him and sat on the edge of my bed. 

  Still crying, I wiped my face and nose on my sleeve, as I sat rigid beside Peter- the man who made me come.

  “I thought it was you...” I confessed.
  “Who raped you?!” He asked stunned.
  “No.  I knew then.  But at first I thought I was having a dream of you making me... And then I got off thinking you were doing it, but then I knew it wasn't you, and I tried to fight, but he was too strong, and everything just got worse.  And then he tried to kill me, or just hurt me, or whatever he was trying to do, and I can't get past the fact that I enjoyed it at first.”
  “But you didn't enjoy it with him, you enjoyed it with me.  That's the difference, Sophie.  If you thought it was me, I would hope you enjoyed it.  I would’ve wanted you to.  I always tried to connect with you in a way that we were intimate,
together.
But you were confused, and then you weren't.  You did nothing wrong, Sophie.”
  “That's what everyone says, but it feels wrong because it wasn't you that made me orgasm,” I cried out shaking.
  “But you thought it was me.  And that's all you should think about.  You believed it was me, which is a good thing, and then you knew it wasn't me and you tried to stop him doing the bad thing.  Tell yourself that over and over again until you finally believe it,” he moaned as he stared hard at my eyes.  Sitting still, living only to breathe, Peter watched me as he had a hundred times before.
 

  “I can't believe you're here,” I suddenly whispered through my tight throat.
  “I came as soon as I heard.”
  “I still love you, Peter, which makes me hate you.”
  “Sadly, I actually understand what you mean.  I know how hard it was for you to let go to love me, but I never took it for granted, and I never loved you any less than you loved me.  I still love you, and I will never hate you, Sophie.  I adore you too much to ever hate you,” he said again sadly.
  “Peter... I don't know what to do anymore,” I whispered.
  “Just live, Sophie,” he said taking my hand. “Move past this horrible thing that happened to you and live.  Find someone who makes you happy, and-”
  “
You
made me happy,” I choked.
  Looking away I stared at my paintings still leaning against the wall on the floor and I couldn't believe the pain I felt.  Everything hurt again.  It's like he was breaking up with me all over again.
  Crying out, I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around my stomach as I sobbed.  Nothing was right and everything felt unfair.  Love shouldn't always hurt this much I thought over and over again.
  “Sophie,” he moaned lifting me off the bed and pulling me into his lap.  Holding me, I cried all over his shoulder as my own shoulder ached, reminding me of all the pain around me.  But I held onto Peter for an eternity as I cried out every single hurt I had felt since the moment I met him.  Crying, I released all the pain I held, and washed it away with my tears.
  “When do you have to go?” I whispered in his ear.
  “Soon...” he whispered back which was all I needed to hear.
  Turning my face I kissed Peter for the last time.  I knew it was the last time for us and I wanted it to mean something.  Even covered in tears, I held his face to mine and I kissed him goodbye. 

  We would never be together after that moment I knew, so I kissed him goodbye forever.
  When Peter pulled away to lift my sweater, I let him.  When he paused and kissed around and on my facial bruising, I wept a little more.  He touched me and kissed me like he always had, beautifully and with a connection I would never again know for the rest of my life.
  When his hands touched the top of my chest and bra, I whispered, “Take it off,” and he did.  Slipping my bra from my body, his hands gently held me as he stared at my eyes before kissing me again.
  And that was the beginning of our end.
  I pulled his shirt from his body, and kissed him harder.  I wanted him.

I wanted all of him to clean me and cleanse my room.  I wanted him to give me the last memories of love I would ever know, so I took them.
  Moving onto my bed, I laid down and unzipped my dress pants.  I tried to pull them from my body, but Peter knelt on the bed and pulled them from me, kneeling between my opened legs, pausing at my panties.  Bending low, he rested his face between my thighs and exhaled all the tension between us.
  Then he paused again unsure and shaking. “Sophie...?”
  “I need this...” I cried.  “You’re the only one who can fix everything inside me, Peter.  You are what I need,” I whispered desperately as he choked up and nodded his surrender.
  Peter then took me gently with his mouth and fingers.  He took me slowly, building me up to the plateau I hated and had learned to fight past.  He touched me and kissed me and worshipped my body.  He pushed me, until begging, he finally entered me slowly. 
  Covering my body with his own, with bent elbows at my sides he held my face with his hands as he kissed me and slowly moved within me.  He kissed me and allowed me to fall back down a little, only to be pushed back up by his gentle touches and his slow movement.
  Peter loved me like he always had, and I was okay.