Flicker Page 10

  “Sucking the life out of me?” Elise repeated, giving in to a little of her irritation to mask how suddenly bereft she felt without him touching her. “What, are you a vampire now?”

  He blinked at her. “Well, that wasn't entirely unexpected,” he murmured, seemingly to himself. “This isn't necessarily how I'd intended... but it does provide an opportunity...” He trailed off.

  For a long moment, Alex simply started at her, until she shifted awkwardly, fidgeting with her skirt and looking away as she babbled quickly, "Um, I was just joking. You don't have to look at me like I'm--" She gasped and jumped when his hand shot out faster than a striking snake and gripped her chin. He forced her face up until he could look into her eyes and held her there, his brow furrowed, as he searched her features more intensely than he had ever done, as if he could physically strip away her body and find her soul a tangible book he could read.

  Finally, he released her, and she blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging from meeting his stare so long. His sudden, somber forcefulness had rocked her, and her heart was pounding harder than ever. She was blushing, she knew, and much as she tried to stop it, her lower lip trembled. He didn’t seem to notice, however; his gaze had turned far away, as if he was struggling with something inside himself.

  Her composure was fraying, but she still tried to look calm as he seemed to make a decision. He focused on her once again, and his eyes had an odd light in them- a heady mixture of hunger, curiosity, amusement, sadness, and carefully suppressed rage. She found herself gasping as she took in his expression, and forced herself to breathe slowly, controlling her mounting fear. She couldn't control her pulse, however, and it raced faster and faster, her heart pounding in her ears.

  "I suppose I did choose truth," he murmured, absently stroking long fingers along the curve of her calf in the mindless way someone would pet a cat. She tried to sit still, but her body betrayed her with a shudder she hoped he didn't see as he continued to speak. "I understand that vampires are in style these days, but it's really a terrible portrayal. Gets very tedious."

  "So is that a yes, then?" Elise asked, trying to sound nonchalant and almost convincing herself that she wasn’t bordering on terror. She wasn't sure what game he was playing now, and until she figured it out, she was going to play along and try desperately to avoid pissing him off. She briefly considered running, but something about his demeanor warned her that it was a very bad idea. She'd thought she trusted him not to hurt her, but right now, he seemed different; even the times he'd frightened her before paled in comparison to his current mood. Right now, her instincts screamed at her, he was dangerous.

  "After a fashion, I suppose," was his typical, maddeningly cryptic answer. His fingers traced higher up her leg, the touch becoming more purposeful and in itself a threat. Her breath hitched again, and this time he favored her with a smirk. Her eyes widened as he moved closer, sliding his hand up her hip and side to cradle the back of her neck. Leaning his cheek against her hair, he murmured into her ear, “I can taste your fear, darling.”

  She gasped again, suddenly struggling furiously as he pulled her against him, but it was useless, and far too late―he was simply too strong. She pushed hard against his chest, but it didn't even make him hesitate. He slid one arm around her back, pressing her against the length of his body as he rose up on his knees. His other hand wound into her hair, possessing, controlling. He pulled her head to the side, tilting her face up toward him; all pretense of bravery fled when she felt his lips graze her cheek, brushing down to her jaw, and a whimper slipped from her throat. His dark chuckle vibrated through her, the sound caressing intimately.

  “It would be so easy,” he whispered against her skin, and quick tremors began to race along her body. She was both hot and cold, sinking fear settling in her stomach but fire flushing her skin. She writhed, trying to loosen his grip without any hope of success. But as she strained against the incredible force of his arms and the immovable solidness of his body, she felt the heat burning through her in waves begin to outweigh the icy terror. He let out a tight breath and pulled back enough to look her in the eyes. “I knew it!” she thought she heard him mutter triumphantly, but her heart was hammering so loudly in her ears that she couldn't be sure.

  Elise was panting, a fine trembling taking hold of her from head to toe, and she tasted blood and realized she had bitten her lip. She gazed up at him, pressing her palms fruitlessly against his chest, and once again felt like she was looking into the eyes of a predator. This time, though, she didn’t fight the sensation of helplessness that swept over her. Instead, she let herself melt into his arms, gripping the thin material of his shirt and using it to hold him tightly against her, welcoming the desire uncoiling inside her as a refuge from the fear and any pain to come.

  Alex’s eyes darkened as he looked down at her. “Is that so, little girl?” He all but purred, his voice deeper than before. It had taken on that strange accent, too, she realized-- the one she'd heard hints of when he was angry.

  “Is what so?” She breathed, trying not to get caught up in his spell. She slid her hands over his chest, across his shoulders, and up the back of his neck to grip at his hair. This time, it was he who gasped, and she felt him tense.

  “I can feel your longing,” Alex whispered, his accent more pronounced. “Oh, you've been trained to be afraid, too, but I can feel how much you want me.” He tightened his hands on her and she whimpered at the reminder of his power over her. “How much you want this.” His scent filled her lungs, making her head spin, and this time she didn't try to fight it. The length of his body against hers felt solid and secure, his arms oddly comforting, supporting even as they restrained her. So very different from…

  And then, like a switch being thrown, a barrier in her mind fell away and she was drowning in memories.

  Hot breath on her cheek, her neck, her chest…

  Relentless hands, uncompromising, holding her arms, kneading her flesh, closing her throat…

  Struggling, writhing in panic, kicking and biting and scratching…

  Begging, panting, whimpering, grunting, screaming…

  Pain.

  Terror, horror, helpless humiliation, and pain.

  Elise began to scream.

  She didn’t know how much time passed as she slowly calmed down. She was huddled against the wall, her knees pulled up against her chest and salty tears flooding from her eyes as she struggled not to hyperventilate. She thought back, with exquisite care to prevent another relapse into hysteria, over the events of the last few minutes. She’d begun to scream, throwing her entire body into fighting Alex, trying desperately to get away. For a moment, she reflected, he’d looked entirely taken aback. His eyes had widened in shock, but face to face with him, Elise had read his other emotions too, as clearly as if they'd been written out for her: a strange triumph, that lonely anguish, burning fury, and most terrifying of all, a bold, hungry lust. In an instant, though, his expression had closed off as he gathered himself.

  He'd started to let go, but with Elise writhing in panic, his hand had tangled in her long hair. After a moment of fruitless fighting, he'd simply gripped her tight, spun her so her back was to his chest, and pushed her down on the floor so he could work his hand loose without resistance. She recalled with embarrassment that during those few seconds, she'd kicked him as hard as she could more than a few times. As soon as he'd gotten his hand free, he’d immediately backed away, letting her stumble to her feet and bolt into the corner. She’d watched him, her eyes like saucers, pressing herself against the wall as she quaked, digging her fingernails into her legs as she clutched at them. Tears poured down her cheeks and she forced herself not to sob, trying desperately to control her breathing.

  Alex didn’t move, staying statue-like against the dining room doorway with his hands held cautiously out where she could see them. After a minute, he began to make quiet, soothing noises, shushing to her like she was a frightened animal. Normally, she would have resented the co
mparison, but at the time she had found the sound strangely comforting.

  Finally, she managed to relax, her tense muscles cramped and her skin stinging along the furrows her nails had raked. She found, suddenly, that she couldn’t look him in the eyes, but stood slowly, the idea forming in her mind that she should just go.

  “Elise,” he called quietly, still maintaining his careful position against the far wall.

  She turned back toward him, her shoulders hunched and her arms wrapped protectively around her chest. She kept her head down, ashamed. She was still frightened, but the fear was slowly being overwhelmed by anger: she was furious at herself. Now she could either leave and let him think she was crazy, or―she could barely even bring herself to consider another option―stay and have to explain the reason for her outburst. It would have been better never to have gotten involved with him at all. “Yeah?” She whispered.

  “Please don’t leave like this. It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.”

  She let out a short, humorless laugh. “Aren’t you worried about this psycho you let into your house? Maybe I should be promising not to hurt you.” The area rug covering the hardwood floor was dark gray with random navy threads, she noticed, studying it intensely.

  Alex snorted. “Little girl, we both know you couldn’t hurt me if you tried.” He paused for a moment, and when he went on, his voice was subdued and serious. “I swear to you, Elise, I won’t harm you at all. Please, come back.”

  She hesitated, but in the end, there was a gentle undertone to his voice that tugged at something deep within her. Haltingly, only shreds of her usual effortless grace remaining, she turned and walked back to the center of the room. She stopped when she came to the empty space where they'd been sitting before, because she saw what had tangled in her hair: his watch.

  Still refusing to look up, she sank down onto the floor beside it. She'd never really noticed it before, but then, she wasn't usually looking at his clothing. Now she saw that it looked very old, its gold body more than a little battered. It had several of her long, chestnut hairs tangled on the knob, and the leather band was torn, almost shredded, like a wild animal had savaged it. Suddenly, her heart was pounding again; she balled her sweaty hands in her skirt, fighting for calm.

  She heard Alex’s voice from the other side of the room. “May I join you?” He asked somberly. Still refusing to look up, she nodded, biting down on her lip to keep it still. She heard him tread slowly toward her, hesitantly, as if she was a spooked horse who might bolt. Finally, the black leather toes of his boots appeared at the edge of her vision. He approached carefully, stopped a few feet away, and sat down, making a point to stay out of arm’s reach. Despite his jaunty statement about her ability to hurt him, she still wondered absently if he was staying away from her because he thought she might attack. For some obscure reason, the idea bothered her; her heart twisted at the notion that he didn't trust her. How absurdly hypocritical, she thought.

  “Can we talk?” He asked politely. She nodded miserably. His voice took on a slightly chiding note, but otherwise remained patient. “Will you look at me?”

  She hesitated, twisting her hands in her lap, but finally admitted to herself that if she was going to stay, she couldn’t gloss over the incident. Especially, she thought ruefully, since she was still acting like a kicked puppy. She couldn’t seem to help her behavior, but still-- she knew that in her panic, she’d kicked and bitten him quite a few times. She owed him some answers, at least.

  She knew she was biting her lip again, and she was blinking quickly, the salt from her tears making her eyes sting. She longed for her usual composure, but reaching for it felt like grasping at smoke. Finally, she let out a tight breath, forced her shoulders down, and raised her chin, making herself look into his eyes.

  What she saw there startled her. She was expecting-- was used to-- confusion, pity, disbelief, judgment, or outright accusation. Instead, he looked kind―patient, sad, gentle, and kind. “What are you thinking?” She blurted out.

  He blinked. “Not that you’re crazy, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He answered immediately, then paused, looking her over, and sighed. “I was thinking that the games I play are for fun. A little fear, a little pain, adds a nice spice to things. But the look on your face… I didn’t want that. I don’t ever want to see that again.” He hesitated again, seeming to come to a decision. “I was hoping you would tell me what I did to scare you so much. At the point where you panicked, I thought you wanted what we were doing as much as I did.”

  Her brow knitted as she frowned. “You…” She trailed off, thinking for a moment. “You didn’t do anything.”

  He made a quiet, frustrated sound. “Now what are you thinking?” He asked, and Elise thought he was trying very hard to continue being patient. She swallowed hard but stamped down on the bubbling fear in the pit of her stomach.

  “You mean you don’t know?” She asked incredulously. “You always seem to know what I’m thinking.”

  “Usually, you’re very honest―I can read you easily. But you’re so closed off right now, I can’t tell anything for sure.” He made his frustrated noise again, a hissing little growl between his teeth. “I mean, don't get me wrong, I always knew you were hiding something... but I didn't expect...” He trailed off, looking regretful and at the same time a little confused. "When I was holding you just now, I could read you so clearly."

  She shrugged, fidgeting self-consciously with the long strands of her hair. "I was calm then- it was relaxing, in an odd way, having to trust you like that."

  "So when you panicked..." He trailed off, waiting for her to fill in the blank. The memory of her outburst made her feel cold, isolated and distant, but she answered anyway.

  "Then I was remembering," she said hollowly.

  "Remembering what?" When she didn't respond, he looked straight into her eyes with that intensity that made her feel like he was stripping her bare. "Elise, whatever happened, it's over now- you're safe.”

  Her face twisted with bitter scorn. “That’s what everyone says. You have no idea,” she snapped harshly, her shoulders thrown back and a touch of her usual fire returning. “It’ll never be over.” She had never said it out loud before, and the statement was a realization for her. As the truth of it hit home, she deflated, her chin dropping and a sharp sob rocking her. “I’m never going to be able to move on.” She felt tears burning her eyes again and was suddenly tired of fighting, tired of being composed, tired of pretending that she had, in fact, gotten over it. Elise put her face in her hands and let herself cry.

  She felt Alex’s hands tentatively grasp her shoulders, but she didn’t pull away. If she was never going to get over the trauma, if every intimate moment for the rest of her life involved her being forced and used and destroyed, then she may as well accept that. And then suddenly, she was throwing herself into his arms and sobbing into his shirt. To his credit, Alex took the abrupt turn of events quite calmly, as though he had hysterical girls hanging on him all the time. He wrapped his arms around Elise, gently cradling her slight form, and rocked her back and forth.

  She cried until she didn’t have any tears left, bidding goodbye to the last vestiges of hope that she could have the sweet, romantic “happily ever after” that little girls are supposed to dream about. Then, without really meaning to but feeling so wrung out that she didn’t particularly care, Elise began to speak.

  “I was a freshman. It wasn’t at Willowdale―I transferred here after; I had to get away. My parents and I moved here from… well, it doesn’t matter, really. But at my old school, I played sports. Actually,” she choked out a chuckle. “I was quite popular-- fashionable, lots of friends, that sort of thing. Apparently it got me noticed.” Her voice deadened as she struggled to maintain her distance from the memory. “It wasn’t too far into the school year. I took a while one day, after field hockey practice, and I ended up the last one in the locker room. Some of the guys from the varsity soccer team were hanging out late, too�
�” She trailed off for a moment, gagging on the words, but she knew that she had to get them out. If she stopped talking now, she had the sense that she wouldn’t be able to start again, and suddenly, it was vitally important that she tell Alex this story. No one else had ever looked at her with the kindness that he had in his eyes, and she hadn’t realized how desperately she’d needed that.

  She took a deep breath. “There were five of them. The one stayed back and just watched, but the rest… They held me down and...” She swallowed and closed her eyes, forcing herself to say it. “They held me down and took turns raping me. By themselves, two at a time…” She heard Alex’s sharp intake of breath, but his hands were reassuring, squeezing her arm, stroking her hair, and now that she’d gotten the words out, she found that it was easier to continue. “They weren’t done with me yet when one of the gym teachers came in. He got them off of me; called the police… he saved me.” She felt Alex relax just a little next to her, thinking the story had a happy ending. If she hadn’t been so empty she might have felt sorry for him.

  “The police took me to the hospital, took my statement, did a rape kit―everything you’re supposed to do. My parents came, and I thought I was going to be okay. I stayed in the hospital for a few days… my dad wouldn’t listen to me, wouldn’t really look at me. He was so mad, but I thought it would pass. But he just kept talking to my mom, to the police, to the doctors―they all talked about me like I wasn’t even there.

  “Then they took me home, and the phone calls started. My best friend called first. She…” Elise swallowed again, surprised how much this in particular still hurt, even after three years. “She said she didn’t know who I was, supposed she hadn’t ever really known me. She said I was disgusting and trashy and she never wanted to talk to me again. How her parents thought she was a slut now, because she’d spent so much time with me, and how I’d ruined her life.” Elise’s voice broke, the betrayal unexpectedly raw, but kept going. The words were pouring out now, almost like they had a will of their own. “The rest of the calls were from my friends, saying much the same thing, or from other people, people I didn’t know as well, just calling me a whore. I finally figured out that the boys had gone back to school and told everyone that I had done it―had taken all five of them―willingly. That I’d set up the whole thing.”