I am HER... (47 page)

 
"Um, sure.  But that's it.  There's nothing more to tell."

 
"Okay... just bear with me.  When you wandered around the Clubhouse, who did you talk to?"
  "I don't know.  Lots of people.  Everyone spoke to me because I'm a ‘Beaumont’. Ah, I think I actually hated being a Beaumont.  It was kind of exhausting.  I had to always speak a certain way, and act a certain way.  I always felt like if anyone saw me do anything wrong, even just for a second, they would run and tell my parents.  I could barely breathe at the Club...  My mother’s friends all spoke to me like I was some fat little embarrassment for my dear, sweet mother.  And my father’s friends hit on me, all the time.” 
What?!
  Huh.  I forgot that.  Holy
shit!
  They did, didn't they?
  "They hit on you...
how?
"

 
"Um... They would hug me,
a lot
, and talk to me... Oh,
oh shit!
  I remember Mr. Allister talking to me about gross things.  I remember wanting to get the hell away from him, but my mother’s friends were watching, and I couldn't get out of his hug, without causing a scene.  I was kind of trapped and he knew it.  Actually, I think he
liked
that I was trapped."
  This is so awkward.  Don't look at Z.  Don't look.  I'm so afraid he is looking at me like I'm gross.  Just keep looking down.  No eye contact!
  "What gross things was he talking about?  You can tell me, it’s okay." 
  "Um... I remember something about his... p-penis.  Something about the size, or something.  It was gross.  I was young, like twelve.  I barely knew what a penis looked like at the time, but there he was talking to me about his, holding me at the bar in a tight side-hug."
  "What else did he say?"
  "That's it, I think..."
  "Could you try to remember back?  Could you try to remember if there was anything more?  Anything else that you can remember?"
  "I’m trying.  I don't know.  It's like I remember, but not really.  It's kind of fuzzy in my head.  I remember his smell, his cologne, and his hug... But the words are kind of like an echo, or something. 
Dammit,
I’m so
confused
right now.”
  "What you're experiencing is typical of a kind of traumatic
‘tunnel vision’
.  Sometimes in a stressful situation, we process the events incompletely, or even strangely.  We may remember scents and feelings, but not all the details.  You're doing fine, and just know that this is completely normal.  We're just going to have to figure out a way to get all the information."
  "I d-don't think I really want to.  It was just creepy to me."
  "I know, but we really need all the pieces of the puzzle. I'm trying to help you, and without ALL the information, I can't help you.  Can you keep trying?"
  "I guess so."

 
Ick, I feel so gross suddenly.  Thank god, Mack seems to understand and he gives me a minute to settle this gross feeling a little.
  "Do you remember anyone else at the Club speaking to you inappropriately?" 
  "I don't know.  Maybe...”  Oh!  "…Um, Mr. Stephens used to talk to me about my baby tits..." 
Flinch.
 
  "You're doing really well.  What else did Mr. Stephens say to you?"
  "I don't know.  That's it, I think.  He would rub them and say he loved my ‘
baby tits’...
"  Oh,
SHIT!
  What the FUCK was
THAT?
  “I remember that!  He actually touched me.”  Breathe, Dammit.  Don't do this. 
  "Breathe, sweetheart.  You're okay.  Mack and I won't let anyone touch you.  I promise.  May I come closer to you?"  Um... 
  "No, thank you.  Sorry, Z.  I just d-don't really want to be touched right now.  I don't want you to see me."  Huh.  As if he can't see me.
  "No problem.  Just take a few slow, deep breaths, okay?"
  "Yes...."
  Long silence.  God, the room feels so heavy on me.  I'm trying to breathe slowly, but the room feels more like a weight on my chest.

                                      ==========

 
"What are you feeling right now?"
  "Well, Mack.  I feel pretty
grossed out,
actually, and this silence is killing me.  How do you think I'm feeling?"
  "Do you remember anything else from the Clubhouse?"
  "Should I?" 
Ooops.
  That sounded a little bitchy.  "Sorry, Mack."
  "It's fine.  Do you remember anything else happening at the Clubhouse?"
  "Um... not really."  Keep breathing.
  "Could you try hard for me?"
  "I am!  What do you want from me?!"
  "I would like you to try to remember.  I would like you to
tell me
what you remember.  And then I want you to tell me how you felt at the time, and how you’re feeling now about it."

 
Feelings, feelings,
FEELINGS!
Jesus Christ!  Shut up!
  "Would you like an alphabetical list, Mack?  Would that make you happy?"

 
"Would it make you happy to
give
me an alphabetical list?" 
Asshole.

 
"Yes, Dr. MacDonald... I believe it would."

 
"Then please, tell me your list."  What?!  What a total
ASSHOLE!
  "Fuck you, Mack!  I'm not playing your game right now.  Go fuck with someone else... Okay?"
  "I'm not fucking with you.  I would just like to know what else you remember about the Clubhouse."
  "You want details?!  You fucking pervert!  You want to hear what I did with them?!  Would that turn you on?  Do you have a hard-on Mack?  Yeah... I'm sure you do..."  Pause.  Breathe.
  "How are you feeling right now?"

 
SNAP!

 
"Fucking
horrible
, Mack.  Thanks for asking.  I have all these
feelings
screaming in my body, and all these
thoughts
grossing me out.  And you keep making me remember!"
  "What is grossing you out?" 
Seriously?!

 
"Oh, I don't know, Mack.  Remembering Mr. Salmons dick in my mouth gagging me, or Mr. Sheehan's hands bruising my hips as he slammed me against his cock.  Or, actually, I remember a awesomely horrendous ass-fucking I took in the sauna by Mr. Philips, followed immediately by Mr. Williams.  That was particularly painful, and I remember Peter thanking me for 'being such a good girl' afterward, as I crawled to the door because I couldn’t even stand up or walk when he was done with me..."

 
WHOOSH.
  All the air is just
GONE!
  OH. MY.
GOD!
OH FUCK!
  Don't look.  DON’T LOOK AT HIM!!  Just close your eyes.
 

 
The silence in the room is deafening.  I can't breathe... At. All.  Take a breath!  Inhale!  Do it!  But I can't. 
Nothing is happening.

 
Turning my head slightly, I see Z.  He is still and expressionless.  He looks like he's in a coma or something. 
Shit.
 
  This is too much!  I need to leave.  Can I walk?  Can I even get out of the bed?  Can I please just LEAVE?!

 
Turning toward Mack, my mouth opens and I try to speak, but a sudden great, horror fills my gut.  Mr.
Williams.
  Oh. My.
God!
  I have fucked Z
and
his father,
Piggy Peter.
  That's it.  I'm done.  My mouth closes on a gasp.
  Throwing myself to the opposite side of Mack and Z, I vomit...
everywhere.
  Huge heaves of vomit, followed by wrenching gags of bile, followed by loud dry-heaves.  The sheets, my gown, the floor...
everything
covered in my vomit. 
  I think Mack is beside me, holding me onto the side of the bed.  I think I hear him talking to me.  I think he’s aiding me. 
I think
... but all I
feel
is Z's horror. 
  Oh god.  There's more.  More heaves.  More noise.  More everything.  Will this ever end?  Will
I
ever end?

                                       ==========

 
After forever it seems, I finally exhale.  My stomach is burning, but now it’s with pain, not nausea.  Pain is better.  Pain, I'm comfortable with.
  "What are you thinking about right now?  Can you tell me?"  Mack practically whispers beside me.  Oh, I think I've been holding his hand this whole time.  That's nice.
  "Um, I love pain, because it can be measured.  Just like time and numbers.  Pain is either really bad, or not so much.  Like a 'one to ten scale'.  I can gauge anything on a one to ten scale.  Pain is always measured, and it always feels less painful afterward.  I just remind myself of that when I'm
in
pain.  The memory of the pain is never as painful as the pain was.  And I've never hit a 10 yet.  There were a few 8.5's, and even a 9 once, but never a 10. Ten is unbearable pain.  I bear pain.  I can always bear pain.  I can bear this pain."
  "Are you in pain now?"
  "Yes.  Everything hurts in my body, probably from the vomiting.  But my head hurts quite badly.  My head is actually throbbing, I can feel it.  But it’s my heart that’s killing me.  May I have a little rest, Mack? 
Please?
"  
  "Of course.  Lie down and rest while I have the nurse issue more pain killers.  I'll have someone clean this up and help redress you, as well.  Would you like Z to stay with you, or would you like him to leave with me?  We'll return as soon as you've rested.  We will return to help you, I promise."
  "Could I just be alone for a little while?"
  "Of course.  We'll be back shortly.  Please try to rest."

 
When I hear Z at the door, I call out to Mack quietly.  “Mack?”  I whisper as he comes closer to me.

 
“Yes?”

 
“Please take care of Z.”

 
“Okay, I will.  And I’ll be back soon to take care of you.”

 
“I don’t care about me.  Just please take care for Z, okay?”  And turning from him onto my side, I finally exhale all my pain and tension.

 
I couldn’t even look at Z as he left.  Oh, what he must think of me.  I can’t believe how humiliated I feel.  It’s like a wash of disgusting humiliation is drowning me.

 
To think, I've slept with Z
and
had his father fuck my...  It's just so disgusting, and twisted or something.  Z must despise me now. 
Finally. 
I've been waiting for it to happen, and it finally has.  I’m almost glad it’s here, so I no longer have to worry about what was
always
inevitable.
  Once the door closes behind Mack, I close my eyes and desperately try to rest.  I can’t believe I remembered the Country Club.  Where the hell has
that
memory been?  I had totally forgotten what it was like for me there.  No wonder I've refused each and every offer or invitation to attend some party, fundraiser, or function at the Club for years.  No wonder I hate golf.  Giggle.

 
When my reverie is interrupted by a nurse, I stop thinking.  She asks a few generic questions, writes some notes, checks me over, helps to redress me
again,
and finally,
thankfully,
hands me 2 little pills.

 
Five minutes later; sleep is almost here, I can feel it.  I feel the in between... I’m slowly falling, falling...

I'm done.

 
Waking, I feel absolutely atrocious.  Everything hurts.  Everything is pressing together.  My head is pounding in rhythm with my face and chest.  My stomach feels like I’ve pulled all the muscles.  My hand and legs are cramped.   My other hand is on fire.  If possible, I swear my
hair
hurts right now. 
  Waking, I'm in
agony
.  What the hell is wrong with my face?  It's all tight and rigid.  Reaching up, I feel a mask or something around my jaw.  What the
hell
is this? 
Silence of the lambs, much?
  "Don't panic.  It comes right off." 
Flinch.
  "You were grinding your teeth so badly; Mack put a mask over your jaw to prevent movement.  Would you like me to help you remove it?"
  "No, thank you..."  I mumble.
  Pulling at a strap near my right cheek, the mask instantly falls away to the left.  Good.  Wow.  My jaw is killing me.  Opening my mouth slowly hurts like a bitch.  This is definitely a solid 4 on my pain scale. 
   I don't want to open my eyes yet.  I just don't want to see Z's face of disgust.  Even though I love being around him- right now, I would give anything for him to leave.  I just can't face him.