Roar (7 page)

TOMORROW IS THE DAY
Daddy will call me to the garage, and he is getting needier. I don’t know why he is changing; he hasn’t changed his routine in ten years. But last time, he shocked us both. He had a video camera. He wanted more. It wasn’t stroking and kissing and loving anymore. He asked me if I was a virgin before I had even taken my clothes off. I was taken aback and speechless as I gaped at Daddy and then Nate. Nate held hate in his eyes. He hated Daddy, and some part of me did, too. But Daddy needed me, and I needed him, so I would do this one thing for him.

Lately Nate and I had come to love each other almost every day. We touched, we kissed, we tasted, and dry-humped when we were alone, because we couldn’t get enough of one another. We didn’t have Daddy choreographing our moves and motives; we loved one another for our own pleasure and needs. But we hadn’t taken that final step yet, we were damn close, but not yet.

“Nate. I’m scared.”

He pulls me tight against him and kisses my temple. A light breeze rustles the leaves above. “I know, babe. Just think of us, not him, not his new toy, just us, and you will get through this.”

“I will. I always do. It’s the only way I get through it now. I wish we were little again when all I thought about was pleasing Daddy, when I didn’t think anything we did was wrong.”

“
We
aren’t doing anything wrong, Charlie.
He
is.” He takes a deep breath, calming himself.

“Then why won’t you make love to me?”

“You know why. I told you. I don’t want to take that last gift from you until you’re ready.”

“I am. I’m ready.” I plead, turning to face him and taking his face in my hands. “Nathan Shaw, I am ready for you to make love to me.”

He sighs and closes his eyes. “I’m not.”

My gasp is silent, but he sees it and screws up his face. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, wishing I hadn’t pushed him. He does enough for me which he doesn’t want to do.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s my hang-up, not yours.”

I nod and my eyes well with sad tears. I have taken so much, and I don’t want to take anymore.

“Please come with us,” he asks for the millionth time.

Nona, Davey, and Nate are going to a service for one of the residents of Willow Lakes. That’s where Nona and Davey go on those Thursdays, where other Down syndrome and disabled people live their lives and learn to look after themselves. But I won’t go, because now I need to figure out how to save Nate from me and my life.

Tonight, I will go to my first party. Tonight, I will do everything I can to expel Nate from my world. He will hate me, he will be heartbroken, but he will be free like the bald eagle we saw at the sanctuary. It is time for him to live and thrive, be the champion and king he is in my heart. I want him to roar, but he never will be able to when he is harboring his broken wing―me.

I wave them off, though it breaks my heart knowing it’s the last time I will see him while he loves me. I run to the house and scour my cupboard. I have nothing pretty, nothing revealing, so I go with one of my favorite black tees, tie it in a knot at my waist, and wear a pair of cut-offs with my black boots. I pull out my hair tie and allow my long brown hair to fall around my shoulders. I’m going to be late for this party, but that’s okay. I don’t need to be there long before I find Mason King. He looks at me with that look I recognize. I see it in Daddy’s eyes; I see it in Nate’s, in Mister Conway. They want something from me that I wish only Nate to have.

But Nate needs to be set free, and I don’t want Daddy to have this. Anyone but him. So, anyone will be Mason. I know he will take my offering because I’ve heard whispers of how he’d like to take me under the bleachers and fuck me until Tuesday. I don’t understand that saying, but I get the meaning, and that’s all that matters.

I have to walk there, but that’s okay, too; it gives me time to summon up the courage to do this. It’s hot even though the sun is setting. I feel sweat beading on my back. I don’t know if it’s from trepidation of what’s to come or from the heat. Either doesn’t matter, and doesn’t stay on my mind long as I hear the music, screams, and laughter from down the street. This is it; this is the beginning of the end. As soon as I walk up to the house, people begin to stare. Then, true to their nature, they continue to party because I’m no one to them. Someone hands me a red cup of fluid. I sniff and realize it’s beer, so I drink. I don’t sip; I scull it and recoil against the bitter taste.

I walk through the door, into the mosh of kids from school and who knows. It’s hot, stuffy, and loud as I dump my empty cup on the entrance table and look at the blur of faces and stares.

I head to where I think I will find him, where all the ball players will hang―by the keg out back, where police and bystanders don’t see. It’s pretty dumb since everyone is walking around with red cups anyway. No one will believe they hold sweet, innocent soda.

I make it to the kitchen when Greg Parker sees me and whistles. There’s that look, and I smile.

“Hi there, Charlie Bear. I never saw you at a party before.”

“Well you see me now,” I say, sliding onto the kitchen bench, taking his cup from him and downing it, willing my stomach not to cramp like it wants.

Greg wolf-whistles, drawing the attention of two other players of the Beavers, one of them being Mason. He stares at me and saunters over, and I smile over Greg’s plastic cup.

I definitely need more beer if I am to go through with this. I shake my cup, not caring who will refill it. Greg takes it and is happy to. He, too, has that look, but with some sting to it. I need to be careful. I need to finish this, but I’m need to keep an eye on
one
target. I have Mason in my eyes, and I know he is a sure thing.

“Looking good,” Mason says, as he places one hand on either side of my legs, his thumb brushing the skin of my thigh. I shiver. He thinks it’s a good sign. He knows nothing. My heart is beating so damn fast, the roar of blood in my ears is competing with the party.

Since I didn’t make a move away from his not-so-subtle advance, he brazens up. His hands cup my thighs and rides just a little higher when Greg returns with my drink. I haven’t eaten since breakfast and the first two drinks have made me hum already. I know the dangers of that, but I need not to feel the betrayal of cheating on Nate. I never used the word boyfriend with him, and he never said girlfriend. It was unspoken that we were together. I was his and he mine. But not anymore. Not after what I’m about to do. I take the drink and gulp it down like I’m dying of thirst when, in fact, I hate alcohol. Nate once had me drink on a Thursday morning to numb me from what was to come; I was sick before Daddy even called my name.

This time I will be smarter; I won’t wait so long before I let Mason fuck me to Tuesday.

I leaned into him, his face inches from my boobs. He’s the same age as Nate and has the same urges, I suspect. So, I make it clear what I want. “Take me upstairs.”

He nods, picks me up from the bench and slides me down his jock-firm body so I can feel how ready he really is.

I’m thrown to the side, and my hip hits the bench, making me yelp.

“Motherfucker, get your hands off her,” Nate screams. He’s screaming as he smashes his fists into Mason’s ribs and arm. Mason is cowering and trying to block the onslaught with his arm as Nate goes wild with rage.

I’ve never seen this side of Nate. I’m scared to fucking death, and yet, I want him. How fucked up is that?! I scream for Nate to stop, but he doesn’t hear me because he is screaming and cussing at Mason. This is my fault. Again, I am hurting people.

Nate swings back again, and I grab his arm. He is much stronger than I thought as my body is propelled forward, landing in a heap by Mason. It doesn’t matter, because it still worked.

Horror contorts Nate’s face as he gawks at what happened. Tears brim his eyes as he sweeps me into his arms and kisses me. He kisses me so hard I couldn’t breathe. When he pulls away, he tucks his head into my neck and chants his apology, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Get me outta here,” I whisper, as I hug him tight. He takes me out of the house, bumping into people until they are distant, white noise. He walks until I hear the sob that breaks my heart, and I squeeze him tighter. Neither of us says a word as he carries me all the way home. He doesn’t take me to my room, but to his, and as we reach his bed, he softly lays me on my back and begins to kiss my neck the way I like.

Still not a word is uttered as he kisses my skin and his hands sweep under my shirt to my bra, where he squeezes. I want him to continue, but all I can think about is his words, he wasn’t ready. I’m a fucking evil person who doesn’t deserve him.

I push against his shoulders. “Nate, no.”

He braces above me, his eyes webbed red. “Why?”

“Because you’re not ready.”

He scoffs and his face twists. “But you are, huh.”

I shake my head. “No. Yes. I am, with you. I love you. But…”

He pushes from me and his bed, raking his hands through his hair. “But you wanted to fuck Mason. You let him fucking touch you!” he growls and swipes at the belongings on his dresser, sending them crashing across his room. I flinch, but I know he would never hurt me. I leap from the bed to hold him like a bandage to a broken bird.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t take anything more from you. I wanted to set you free, and the only way I knew I could do that was to hurt you. I thought if you hated me, you would be free.”

He freezes and grabs hold of my shoulders, hard. His eyes ever so dark, full of deep torment. “I am only free when I’m with you. I will never hate you. I want to kill for you. I want to be with you when the time is right.”

“I know. But I wanted it to be my choice and my gift to give. I didn’t want it to be because I’m made to. I want to give myself to you before the choice is no longer mine. It’s all I have,” I weep.

Nate is silent, his breathing changing from jagged to a kind of pant. “I don’t want to take it from you, either. I want all of you; I want it to be
your choice.
You say you want to choose before he takes it away, but he already is taking it away. You only want to do this because you have to. There is no choice in that.”

He’s right
. I swipe at the tears on my cheeks.

“Let it be me then,” he says. “I love you and you love me. I never want another to be able to touch you. Tonight, I felt a rage in me that scared me so bad; I thought I could lose you, and I never want to feel that again.” He takes a long breath, as do I. he traces my damp cheeks with his thumbs, his hands so warm and soft against my cheeks. “I want to make love to you.”

I shake my head. He’s just saying that. He’s a sixteen-year-old boy who only knows a bound kind of love.

“Let me make love to you.” He pulls me to him and kisses me so softly that I forget all the pain and reasons why we shouldn’t.

PAUL CALLED IN SICK
for me. Told me to stay in and rest before he kissed my cheek and left for work. He always calls in sick for me when I have marks someone might question. It’s a major reason he took this job. We had to move because there were too many whispers over my “accidents.” You can only run into furnishings and klutz your way through so many lies before people see the truth.

I lay in bed for half an hour after he left before rising and heading for the bathroom for painkillers. I made the mistake of looking at my reflection. I’m still this woman with a disgusting soul and a dirty secret, but now I’m a woman with a disgusting soul, a dirty secret, and a small cut to my forehead. I pull on the neck of my nightshirt to look at my ribs; the dark bruise runs across my delicate skin, almost all the way to my hip.

Most of my wardrobe covers my body because that’s how Paul prefers it. Therefore, I never had to worry too much when I bruised in those places. It was when he lost complete control, leaving revealing marks of rage, that I had to be more clever about how I masked. Makeup is my best friend. Today, however, makeup wouldn’t quite cut it.

I don’t have to go to work today, but I do have to go see Nate. It’s a risk of mammoth proportions if I’m caught by Paul. The deep ache in my muscles and bones won’t let me forget the punishment of upsetting him. I just have to be home before seven tonight, easy as that. Besides, if I don’t go to Nate, he may come looking for me, and that is much,
much
worse.

Swallowing the fear back, and self-disgust, I hit the shower and allow the hot, stinging beads to pummel my sensitive skin. I’m rougher than I need to be with my loofah and have to berate myself to take it easy. Not everything can be controlled; I know this better than most. I accept it and embrace it with every tender spot of my body.

I still don’t have my car; I doubt it will show in a hurry, so I choose to go for a run. I love running. It’s a punishment on my body I actually choose and enjoy. I slip a cap on and pull my long ponytail through the hole in the back, before making sure it covers the cut on my forehead. I grab the spare set of keys and tuck them in my pocket. Taking a huge breath, I step out into the bright Beaver Dam sunshine and beat the pavement across the back streets of town. I don’t want anyone to see me in case they mention it to Paul.