Page 40 of Unforgettable
To me, this man is my nightmare. My rapist. Only one of many. This is my life.
Somewhere along the way, I lose myself to the darkness inside me. It curls itself around me in a protective shell and holds me close while the client uses my body however he wishes. I still know what’s happening. I can still feel the burning tear of every thrust, but in the darkness it’s apart from me.
In the darkness, I’m safe inside my own mind, separate from my body. Cocooned inside my own piece of insanity. One day, I’m going to break from reality and not come back from this place. I know it’s going to happen, and yet I still seek out the darkness to carry me away.
This client is a regular of mine. He recognizes the moment I retreat into the safety of my mind.
He always knows.
I whimper as he pulls himself from my ravaged vagina, and the fight reignites as he positions himself at my tight back hole. He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls so hard my upper body is arched off the bed painfully. “You won’t be checking out on me this time, bitch.”
That’s the only warning I get before he shoves himself past my tight ring and deep into my bottom. The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s not the first time someone has taken me there, but most clients use lubricant to ease their way. Not this man. No, he rams himself inside me over and over. His balls slapping against the tender skin below, adding another facet to my pain.
My screams echo through the room as I thrash beneath him. I can feel my hair tearing at the root, but that pain hardly registers because the pain in my bottom is so severe. I fight against his hold, doing everything in my power to unseat him. This time I do beg. I beg for him to stop. I plead with him to have mercy.
“That’s a girl. Fucking fight. You’ll never escape me.” He folds his big body over my much smaller frame and sinks his teeth viciously into my shoulder. The scream that’s ripped from my throat is so forceful I can feel my vocal cords strain and break until my screams turn hoarse and practically soundless.
“Rosie! Wake up!”
I’m jerked from my nightmare so suddenly my mind can’t seem to catch up with the fact that I’m free from that horror. The only thing I can comprehend is a large shadow of a man hovering over me, holding me in place.
I don’t think. I just react. I push the figure away and skitter across the bed. I barely have the sense to brace myself before I hit the floor. I curl myself into a tight ball and rock. Slowly, the nightmare recedes.
Just a dream. Not real. Not real,I chant to myself.
“Shh… it’s okay, love,” Matthew soothes.
I look in the direction of his voice but remain huddled in place. Afraid that if I move, I will fall into a million pieces. Once again, he’s approaching me like he would a wild animal. He stops a couple feet away and kneels down in front of me. He doesn’t reach out to me, instinctively knowing that his touch wouldn’t be welcome yet.
I shut my eyes tight and continue the soothing rocking motion. My inner chant switches to my mother’s voice. Back before the drugs, she was a great mom. She used to sing to me every night. A special song she made up one night when I was a baby and wouldn’t stop crying. She rocked with me for hours, trying everything she could to soothe me. She sang every song she could think of, and in the wee hours of morning, she just started making things up. Those made up lyrics did the trick and became my lullaby.
I let the memory of my mother’s voice soothe my fear. Her sweet words play on a loop in my mind until they chase away the nightmare.
“Love?” I look up into Matthew’s worried eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yes… no… I don’t know.” The words come out in a croak as if I’ve spent the night screaming my head off.
“Can I?” He holds his arms out to me. I don’t hesitate to crawl into his embrace. He lets out a shuddering breath the moment he’s got me in his arms. It must’ve taken a great deal of restraint to keep from swooping in before I was ready.
He stands with me in his arms and lays me back on the bed. He quickly strips his clothes, then crawls in after me. I sigh with contentment when he pulls me against his body, holding me close. Once again, I’m struck by the ease to which I accept his touch. Even after a nightmare like that, I don’t feel any hint of fear at being vulnerable with him. The exact opposite, in fact. I feel safe and secure, like as long as I’m in his arms nothing can touch me, not even my nightmares.
Exhausted, sleep starts to draw me under. I vaguely acknowledge Matthew kissing my forehead and whispering promises of love and keeping me safe.