CORAL (A Romance Trilogy, Book 1) (30 page)

“Let me get you another,” he
whispers taking my empty glass off me. When he returns, I notice he has one
too. Sitting next to me, he smiles weakly at me and hands me the glass.

“Thanks,” I whisper and take a
sip. “So I’m running on the beach and I notice this guy, he’s running too. When
I stop to take a breather, he comes over to me and we start talking. We had so
much in common, before I knew it an hour had passed and it only felt like five
minutes. He told me he was from London and had come down for a long weekend, he
said he’d split from his girlfriend, he seemed genuinely cut up about it. I
told him about Justin, it felt like we were kindred spirits, you know…” I take
a deep breath and another swig of brandy.

“I relished the company, having
someone to talk to, someone my own age. Anyway, he asked to see me that night,
I was so excited I really thought there was some potential there. I thank god
everyday that I decided to meet him in town, he wanted to pick me up at the
house, but my instinct was telling me not to do that. I thought that tiny
nagging feeling of fear was just my usual self-protectiveness coming through,
but I guess I was picking up on the fact that he was dangerous, that I should
be careful.” I take another drink.

“We had a great night, I felt
very connected to him on every level, we laughed, we talked non-stop; I was
fascinated with him. When the pub closed he asked me to take a walk with him
along the promenade, he took my hand in his he couldn’t stop gazing at me. I
felt like there was something really big there, he told me he wanted to see me
again the following weekend, I agreed and that’s when he kissed me; he was so
gentle, it was such a sweet kiss. We didn’t want to leave one another, so I
agreed to go to his hotel for more drinks.

“When the hotel bar closed, he
asked me to come up to his room, I told him I wasn’t that kind of girl, but he
assured me it was just for another drink. He’s been a perfect gentleman all
evening, so I didn’t see any harm in it and I certainly didn’t see any danger.
Hand in hand, we walked up to his room chatting the whole time. He opened the
door and gestured for me to go first, which I did, but when he closed the door
behind me, he turned into a monster.” I drain the last of the brandy.

“He grabbed me from behind and
started groping me, I was shocked, totally stunned. I told him no, and again
that I’m not that type of girl, I tried to push him off me, but that just made
him more aggressive. I managed half a scream before he covered my mouth with
his hand, I tried to fight him off again, but he was too strong. We fell to the
floor, I begged him to let me go, he laughed at me, said it was all my fault
that I’d led him on. I screamed at him that I hadn’t done that, but that made
him more angry. He started swearing at me, calling me a whore, a dick-tease. I
couldn’t see how I’d given him that impression, which made
me
angry so I
shouted
‘go fuck yourself’
and that’s when he punched me in the face,
right here, see.” I point to the tiny scar that’s across my right eyebrow.

“He had knocked me out, so when I
came round, I found myself the bed, my hands were tied to the post and he was
striping my jeans of me. I tried to kick him off, but he punched me again,
right in the jaw, I could taste blood swimming in my mouth. I was in so much
pain, I could hardly see out my right eye and I knew, I just knew what he was
going to do, it was inevitable. I thought about trying to buck him off me, but
my past reminded me that doing that only makes it more painful, so I went limp
and withdrew, just like I used to, and let him have his way with me. He was so
rough with me, he was spitting vile, repulsive things at me the whole time, I
can still feel…” I close my eyes to try and compose myself. I swallow hard and
continue.

“When I have nightmares about it,
it’s the ripping and the pounding into me that I remember, it makes my pelvic
muscles go into spasm, he just didn’t stop. It felt like it went on and on, I
thought it was never going to end, he threatened to kill me, and in all honesty
I wanted him to, I wanted it to be over.” George gasps again and squeezes his
eyes shut. “I don’t know how long it went on for, but in the end I passed out
in pain.” I stare blankly ahead, amazed I managed to get it all out, and I’m surprised
at myself, I thought I would be upset, crying even, but I just feel numb; like
I’m listening to someone else tell the story, totally void of myself.

I turn and stare at George, he
looks like he’s going to be sick and he’s so pale. “George?” I prompt.

“That was very brave of you
Coral, well done for being honest and telling what me happened. How do you feel
now you’ve told me?”

“Numb,” I answer my voice
sounding void of all emotion.

“That’s understandable,” he says.

I laugh sarcastically, then out
of nowhere, the numbness disappears, and I feel overwhelmed with fear, I feel
it shake and rattle my body. I guess reliving it again, saying it out loud;
unwelcome and unbidden tears start to cascade down my cheeks.

“Coral!” George gasps and wraps
his arms around me. I finally crack, the levees bursting on me, and I crumble
into his arms. I wrap my arms around his waist, and sink my head into his
chest. He gently rocks me, trying to soothe me with gentle words. “You’re safe
now,” he whispers. “Nothing can happen to you.” I hear his words of comfort,
but they make no difference. I cannot stop the tears. I cry long cathartic
sobs, soaking his shirt. I take in a ragged breath, trying to calm myself down,
and it’s in that moment that I realise a shocking, unwelcome truth.

I want Tristan; right here, right
now. I want his strong arms around me, his scent invading my senses, his lips
pressed hard against my forehead, his proximity even; that would be enough. I
mean, George is wonderful and sweet, and is trying his best to comfort me, but
he can’t make me feel safe, he can’t protect me, he can’t…he can’t…finally it
hits me, what I’ve been denying to myself; he can’t love me like Tristan can.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to
block out this revelation. I sit up from my slumped position and try to catch
my breath. “I’m sorry,” I choke, looking down at George’s shirt; it’s covered
in black mascara.

“No need,” he soothes. “Would you
like another?” he asks gesturing to my empty glass.

I look up at the clock on the
wall, my hour is up. “The time George, I don’t want to keep you,” I sniff.

“Nonsense,” he barks. “Would you
like to use the bathroom?”

“Please,” I croak.

George helps me to my feet, my
legs feel all shaky. “It’s the adrenaline,” he explains. “Let me help you.” George
guides me to his downstairs bathroom, once inside he tells me to take my time
and shuts the door behind him.

I grab a load of toilet tissue,
and blow my nose several times, throwing the paper into the toilet, I press the
flush. In a daze I turn to the sink so I can wash my face -
Jesus, what a
mess!
I have mascara streaks running down my cheeks, my eyes are really
swollen, and my nose is bright red –
Great!
I fill the sink with cold
water and plunge my face in. It shocks me for a second but I stay under holding
my breath, after a minute I pull back up. I stare back at my reflection, water
dripping down from all over my face. Surprisingly, I feel better than I thought
I would, just saying it out loud feels as though a small weight has been lifted
from my shoulders.

I start laughing at myself, my
eyes looks like a pandas, and I have black mascara streaks running down each
cheek; I look like something out of a horror movie. I notice there’s a
hand-wash on the sink so I squirt some onto my hands, and wash away the
mascara, refreshing my face again with more cold water. I can’t believe how
much better I feel - I shake my head at myself -
Should have done this ages
ago!

I dry my face and stare at my
reflection, wondering if the tears are going to come back, but surprisingly
they don’t. I make myself smile trying to perk myself back up, then chuckle at
myself –
You idiot!

Taking a deep breath, I square my
shoulders and head back to George’s office.

I WALK BACK INTO GEORGE’S
office and sit on the sofa next to him. He smiles softly at me and hands me
another Brandy. “Thanks.” I take another sip.

“I wish you would have told me
Coral.” He softly scolds.

“I know, I was just thinking the
same. I actually feel better for telling you.”

“A problem shared…” George cocks
an eyebrow up at me in disapproval, he’s not happy with me.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t something
that was easy to say and I didn’t want to...” I break off.

“Didn’t want to what?” he asks,
his head cocked to the side.

I take another sip. “Lots of things,
I didn’t want you to be mad with me for not telling anyone, or going to the
police, or...” I stop for a moment. “I was scared and ashamed,” I whisper.

“I understand,” he softly says.
“But I wouldn’t have been angry with you, at all.” He admonishes.

My head starts banging, I haven’t
had much food today so the alcohol is going straight to my head - I place my
glass down and pull the pins and bobble out of my hair, then run my fingers
through my scalp to try and ease the tension. I let my hair fall across my
shoulders and down my back.

“Do you remember his name?”
George asks.

“Yes, but I don’t think it was
his real name.”

“How did you get out?” I shudder
and take a gulp of brandy.

“When he finished with me, he
fell asleep. I think I kept drifting in and out of consciousness, the pain
was…horrendous. The next time I came round I could see it was light outside, I
remember him waking up, so I pretended to be asleep. I heard him go into the
bathroom, he locked the door and turned the shower on; I knew it was my only
opportunity to get out, I had to take it.

“When I sat up, I realised my
hands were free, I don’t remember him untying me, so I grabbed my bag, jeans
and t-shirt and fled out of the room, completely naked. I ran to the stairwell,
pulled on my jeans and t-shirt and ran home. My feet were so messed up by the
time I got back. I don’t know why I didn’t pick up my shoes, I think they were
wedges, I guess they wouldn’t have been any good for running in, I just had to
get out of there. I was so scared he would catch me leaving,” I clench my fists
as I recall running back to the house.

“I bled for two days George, and
I know he didn’t use protection. I was so scared that he’d given me an STD; but
he hadn’t thank god.”

“You got tested?” He questions.

“Yes, I went to the genitourinary
clinic, gave a fake name. Test results came back clear.”

“What did you tell Gladys, you
must have made some excuse up?”

“Yes, I did and I hated lying to
her…but, it was just too hard to say. I felt ashamed, embarrassed, and I think
I was still in shock. I told her I’d gone for a run and I got jumped on by some
drunken bum. I’d taken myself to hospital before she came back so I had a
couple of stitches on my eyebrow, I was pretty messed up.

“She almost had a heart attack
when she walked through the door, she wanted me to go to the police, but I said
I didn’t even know what he looked like, so she dropped it. She and Joyce took
care of me that week, Gladys was still working part time then so they took it
in turns. I’ll always be eternally grateful to them both for that, they’ll
never know how much it meant to me.”

“And I take it you remember his
face?” I instantly know where George is going with this.

“I’m not going to the police
George. I won't have it all dragged back up.” His lips set into a hard line. He
doesn’t agree with me. “Ok, say I report it and they find him, it’s my word
against his, and there’s no evidence. And don’t forget, I know this industry. I
know how long these things take. It will take years to go through the system, to
finally get to court, which means I’d have it hanging over me for what another
two, three years. I won't do that George I won't put myself through it, I know
it sounds bad, but I’d rather just work on getting better.”

George frowns at the floor, deep
in thought. “And now you know...” I stare back at him with wide eyes. “You can
help me right?”

“Of course,” George whispers and
knocks back the rest of his brandy. “So that’s why you’re so nervous about
Tristan?” He surmises.

“No...well sort of.” I answer taking
another sip. “I’m terrified of having sex again and it all coming back to me.
It’s hard enough having the triggers that I already have, to having this on top
of it as well...” I shake that thought away. “I’m scared of how strongly I feel
for Tristan, but I’m even more scared of him turning away from me when he
learns who I really am, what I really am. But Gladys and Joyce moving on have
made me realise that unless I exorcise these demons, once and for all, then I’m
going to be alone, completely alone, and that..
.that
scares me more than
anything else ever has.” It’s weird, now it’s out there, now I’ve said it out
loud. I feel ready, I feel really determined, and I know I’m strong, that I can
get through this. I just need some help. “So let’s get to work.” I say
resolutely.

“Well, you’ve already taken the
first step towards healing,” George smiles.

“Because I’ve told you?” I
question, he nods once. “Ok, so what else can I do?” I question.

“Well, you have several options.
We can keep the sessions at twice a week, and there are several support groups
for women, which I think you would find very beneficial. I have dealt with many
patients in the past who have been through the same trauma, and when I’ve
directed them towards these support groups, they have all said that having
likeminded women around them, who have been through the same thing and are
supporting each other, has greatly improved the healing process.

“Now, having said that there have
been several patients who have not gone down that line, they have chosen
instead to go to the root of the problem by having sex again. It can be a way
of freeing themselves of the panic, the fear. Some wait until they are in a
relationship, some are brave enough to pick a guy up, gaining confidence as
they do and some, well, some have used male escorts, no ties, just sex.” I gasp
in horror.

“Are you friggin kidding me? You
want me to go out and have’ – “No,” he laughs. “I’m not telling you to do
anything Coral. I’m just explaining to you how other women have dealt with the
trauma of it.”

“I’m not a victim,” I spit rising
to my feet - I refuse to be, shit happens and you just have to deal with it the
best way you can. My hands start to shake, a delayed reaction to talking about
it.

“I didn’t say you were.” George
scowls.

I sigh heavily and sit back down
–
Calm down Coral!

“I’m sorry George,” I close my
eyes for a second then look across at him. “Ok, so support groups? Aren’t they
for women who are being abused by long term partners though?” I question.

“Some are, others are for women
who have basically had the same thing happen as you have. Would you like me to
enquire for you?”

“Yes please, I’ll try anything.”
I say, George grins broadly at me. Then I remember what I thought of the other
day. “You know, I was thinking about a lot of things the other day, running
them over in my head, and I’m tired George, really, really, tired.”

“What of?” He questions.

“Everything,” I scoff. “I’m tired
of being scared all the time. I’m tired of feeling vulnerable. I’m tired of my
associations with men – not all men are bad, I know that. I just don’t know how
to change how I feel about them, and I want the sex thing sorted so I’m not
freaking out about it. But there are other things too…” I swallow hard
surprised by my own candor –
Where’s this all come from?

“Go on,” George prompts.

I sigh inwardly and continue. “I
want to feel feminine; I’m tired and fed up of wearing trousers and jeans all
the time. But I don’t want to go through the feelings I get when I put a skirt
or dress on, it’s too...I feel too vulnerable and out of control. It’s
exhausting feeling like you’re constantly in fight or flight mode. I want the
choice, it was taken away from me and I want it back.” I snap.

George still looks deep in
thought. “Well, there is one other option, I hadn’t considered it before, but
it may work,” he muses.

“Whatever it is, I’ll try it.” I
say.

George starts grinning from ear
to ear –
What is he smiling about?

“George!” I scold.

“Sorry, it’s just such a pleasure
seeing you so ready to try’ – George sighs – ‘Normally you don’t want to work
on anything, you just want consistency. It’s wonderful to see you so
enthusiastic to work on your fears rather than hide behind them.”
Jeez I
just want to wear a dress!

“So what is it?” I ask with bated
breath.

“Hypnotherapy,” he says.

I scowl at him. “Seriously?” I
squeak.

“Yes, it’s worked for many of my
patients, with excellent results.” I light up inside.

“So, you’re saying it could what;
help me with sex and dresses?” I question.

“Coral, it’s certainly something
we could try, you never know.” A big smile starts to spread across my face.

“Really?” I squeak –
Now I’m
excited.

“Yes,” he chuckles.

“Let’s go for it.” I push.

“Alright then, I know a fantastic
therapist in this field, she’s expensive though,” George tells me.

“I’ll dig into my savings,” I say
– This is going to work I have a good feeling about it.

“Alright then,” George says with
satisfaction.

Then I panic. “Er…George?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t like the idea of a
stranger having control over what they put in my head, so will you come with
me, or have the sessions here?” George cocks his head to the side and raises
his eyebrows.

“I can do that Coral but you know
what that sounds like?” he says. I already know the answer.

“That I’m being a control freak,”
I answer gloomily. “But you just told me one step at a time, so once I feel
comfortable with the Hypnotherapists, I can go without you.” I say, feeling
triumphant in my reply.

“So I did,” he replies, smiling
at me again. Then he picks up my glass and walks out the room. He returns
moments later with another brandy for us both.

“George, I’ll be wobbling home at
this rate.” I say.

“I don’t want you to be alone
tonight Coral.” He says sitting next to me.

I stare back at him in confusion.
“Why not?” I chuckle.

“Because you’ve just re-lived a
trauma...for goodness sake Coral! Are you saying you’re happy to be on your own
after what you’ve just revealed?” He asks rather astonished.

I shrug and take a sip of Brandy.
“George I’ve been living with this for two years, I’ll be fine,” I clarify.

“I’ll be fine is your answer to
everything,” George says sarcastically.

“Well I will be,” I squeak taking
another sip –
Damn this Brandy is nice!

George shakes his head at me.
“Really Coral, in all seriousness I would rather you weren’t alone tonight, it
will give me peace of mind.” I frown and take another drink. “What about
staying with Rob?” He asks.

“Can't he’s’ – I stare down at my
hands wrapped around my glass – ‘he and Carlos are having some troubles,” I say
feeling guilty for sharing their secrets.

“Oh?” George cocks his head to
the side.

“Rob was acting weird when I saw
him on Wednesday, and Carlos won’t answer his mobile.” I growl remembering him
pushing me to voice-mail.

“Gladys?” he asks.

I snort with laughter. “What, and
sit in all night with the love-birds?” I blurt. “No thanks, I’d rather be on my
own, besides I’ll only get hounded as to why I’ve been crying.” I add tersely.

“There is that,” George agrees.
“How about staying here for the night?” He says, smiling gently at me.

“I-I can’t do that,” I stutter in
amazement. “You…you’re my therapists?”

“That I am, and as professional
as I should be…well, you feel like family to me. And it’s not as if we haven’t
socialised with one another. We do have mutual friends after all.” I nod in
agreement, we do, and we have socialized plenty, but wouldn’t it be – well
wrong?

“That’s sweet George, I think of
you as family too.” I smile tentatively.

“Well then, that’s settled. I’ll
get the spare room ready for you...Oh! And Phil is making his famous Moules
Marinieres spaghetti dish’ – his eyes sparkle and he claps his hands together –
‘and he always makes too much.” I can see he really wants me to stay. “And we
have a lovely crisp Frascati to go with it.” He adds cheerfully.

“But’ – “No buts,” he says
holding up his hands. “For us, Friday nights are about great food, great wine,
and a good old movie; how about it?”