NORMAL (32 page)

"I didn't scream, did I?" I whisper, praying that whatever I said or did, it wasn't loud enough to garner widespread humiliation. I know I must sound desperate and frightened, but this isn't my first nightmare. Or my hundredth.

Sam follows my darting gaze.

"No one else noticed," he replies, obviously recognizing my concern. But he still looks distressed.

"I, uh, sorry," I murmur, gesturing to where I'd clung to him in my sleep. He looks at me like I'm crazy, and I know it's for apologizing to him, not for whatever I said or did while I was asleep.

"What did I, um, say?" I ask hesitantly.  

Sam shoves his hand through his hair.
"God,
Ror, you were sobbing and saying 'please' and 'stop'," he chokes out. His eyes are glazed and I wonder if he's holding back tears.

God, I'm that pitiful
.
Without warning, he grabs me and tugs me to his chest. I allow myself thirty seconds to savor his embrace before I lift my head.

"I'm okay, it was just another nightmare," I murmur.

"You have them a lot?" he asks softly, and I can tell he's working to keep his voice casual.

I let out an ironic laugh. "Only when I sleep."

His expression is right back to horrified.
"God, Ror."

"It's fine."

He looks at me as if he's in awe. "It's so
not
fine, but
you
.. you're amazing, you know that?"

What's so
amazing
about suffering through the wreckage of my life? "Can we just forget this happened?" I ask pleadingly, and I can tell he doesn't want to, I can tell he wants every detail of the nightmare I just had, and probably every one I've
ever
had, but I can't do it. "I, uh, need to use the bathroom," I murmur unconvincingly, and then unceremoniously climb right over his lap and rush to the front of the plane, thanking God that the lavatory is unoccupied.

I stay in the restroom until the flight attendant announces our initial descent into Miami, and when I return to my seat, Sam makes no further mention of my bad dream. Instead, he goes on and on about our trip, and even gets me to agree to try jet skiing. The reformed tomboy in me can't wait.

Spring Break, Last year

R
obin has been talking about Gainesville nonstop since my father told him I could go. I've forced smiles and cursory conversation, and Robin has barely noticed. When he climbed on top of me in his car last night, I didn't even fight it. I didn't even say 'no'. I didn't beg, I didn't plead, and I didn't scream. I just let him do it. But I couldn't stop my tears.

I thought it would go by faster, but it didn't. And afterward Robin asked why I didn't "play your little hard to get game". I guess that's what he calls begging and pleading for him to stop forcing me. I think he even sounded a little disappointed. I never realized that he liked it when I fought back, but now that I think about it, looking back, the more I fight, the more excited he gets.

I still feel numb. On autopilot. Like my mind has been all but shut off all week. But I'm finally getting myself together. I've decided that whatever my father thinks, he can't control my life, and whether or not he believes me about what's happened - what's happening - he can't make me stay with Robin and he can't make me agree to marry him when the time comes either.

But the upcoming weekend is the most pressing matter. Every time I think about it, my precious numbness melts away and I'm nearly overcome by terror. I can't go away with him. No matter what.

I know it's not very considerate to wait until the last minute to tell him I'm not going to go, but honestly, I'm afraid of how he'll react.

So I waited until now.  

It's Friday afternoon, the basketball game has just ended. Almost everyone has left the school, and Robin is here to pick me up. I want to talk to him here so he can't flip out. He never loses control in public or when there are other people nearby.

I join the girls in the locker room, and while they're all either gathering their things or changing out of their uniform, I gather my courage. I meet Robin by the gym doors. He pulls me into his arms.

"Hey, sweetheart. We win?" he asks before planting a kiss on my lips. I nod, then step back. "You okay?" he asks, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Robin, can we talk a minute?"

"Sure, darlin', let's talk in the car. We got a long drive." We were supposed to leave right from school. I know his bag is already in his trunk, but I never even packed. I have my jeep in the lot. He obviously didn't notice it.

"We should just talk here," I murmur.
God
, I need to find my courage. My voice is weak and shaky, and Robin will just steamroll me if I don't seem strong. He raises his hand to touch my face, but I step back again.

"Rory, what's goin' on?"

I take a deep breath. "I can't go with you this weekend," I begin.             

"'Course you can, your daddy said it was fine," he replies.

I shake my head. "I know, but I still can't go. Rob, I... I think we need some time apart. Some space."

Robin glares at me. He says nothing for several moments. "Rory, what are you talkin' about? This isn't still about your arm, is it?" he asks, reaching for the now yellowing bruise on my forearm he put there no more than a few days earlier. I pull it away before he can touch me. "You're not still mad, are you? I said I was sorry, sweetheart, you know how much I love you."

I shake my head again. "I know, Robin. It's not just that. It's... I just need some space, okay? Go to Gainesville, have a good time, and we'll talk when you get back, okay?"

"No, darlin', not 'okay'. This sounds an awful lot like you breakin' up with me," he replies. There are tears in his eyes. I've seen them before. When he's feeling guilty about hurting me - pushing me around, not forcing himself on me. When he's apologizing and begging my forgiveness. But I've never seen him look this frightened, this... stricken. It almost undoes my resolve. But then I remember what will happen if I falter. The same thing that's been happening for months, just...
forever
. "Rory?" he breathes, desperate
.

Tears slide down my cheeks, and I brush them away quickly. "I'm so sorry," I whisper, and then before the despair in his eyes can confuse me any more, I turn and flee back to the girls locker room.

The locker room is empty by now, everyone having gone home after the game. I close my eyes for a minute and try to regulate my breathing. That was even harder than I thought it would be. I think I expected him to argue. To yell. Not to cry. Not to look so... heartbroken. I get my bag out of my locker and walk to the back where the sinks and showers are. I toss my bag on the ground and turn on a sink to splash some cold water on my face.

"Rory."

Robin's voice is low and toneless. I grab a paper towel to dry my face and turn to look at him. I can't believe he's followed me into the girls locker room.

"Robin, I-"

He's on me before I even sense his movement. I'm shoved back into the wall, hard. I cry out as my back crashes against the cold, hard tile. Robin doesn't kiss me, instead, he holds my arms to my sides and starts sucking down my neck, licking and biting... hard.

"Ow! Stop, Rob, please!" I beg.

"You need space? From fuckin'
me
?!" he roars before crushing his mouth against mine.

I turn my face away. "No, Robin, please stop!"

"Stop what? Doin' what you want? My girl likes it rough, remember?"

He grabs my ass with one hand and pinches so hard I know there will be a mark. His other hand pushes up under my top and does the same to my nipple, all the while his mouth moves over my skin, sucking and biting too damn hard. I cry out again in pain. I use the limited mobility of my arms to try and push him off. I bang my fists at his chest but can get no momentum and no matter how much I try to hit him, there's no potency to my punches.

"Please, no! Robin! Don't do this! Not here!" I plead though desperate sobs.

My tears are nearly blinding me and vaguely I remember that he likes it when I fight back, but I can't stop, I'm too scared. This isn't his usual foreplay. He's hurting me on purpose, not just to get me to comply. He digs his fingers into my hair at my nape and twists painfully, pulling my head back and forcing me to meet his gaze through the watery fog of my tears.

He is
glowering
at me, looking at me with such contempt that I wonder why he wants to be with me at all.

"You need
space
? You need
time
? From fuckin'
me
?! You are fuckin' mine! Do you understand me? You stupid bitch!" he snarls at me.

He yanks my shirt up so my bra is exposed and with one hand he yanks the cups down and bites my breast. When I scream again, he shoves his forearm over of my mouth to muffle my cries.

I can't believe this is happening. I thought it was bad before. I hated it. Hated being overpowered, being forced. Having him invade my body without my permission.

But this... this is something different. He is making a point. A claim. He will never let me go. I am his to do with what he wants, whatever he wants, and right now, he wants to hurt me.

He starts pawing under my skirt, but my panties are covered by my spankies, thanks to my cheerleading uniform. He rips roughly at them, scratching my skin in the process, but they're not as flimsy as panties, and he can't just tear them off.

The sound of my muffled sobs fills the locker room, but we are utterly alone, and I know no one will come to my rescue.

Robin curses viciously as he tries to drag my spankies down my thighs, but I twist and squirm to hinder his movements. He growls and removes his forearm from my face to dig in his jeans pocket for something, and I take advantage of having access to my own voice while I can.

"Please Robin, please stop. I'm sorry, I'll come with you. Please! You're hurting me!"

"Too. Fuckin'. Late," he grates through clenched teeth as he pulls his hand out of his pocket along with his house keys.

He shoves them up my skirt and yanks my spankies and panties away from my hip, but not far enough, and as he roughly saws the key down through my clothing, he vertically cuts the flesh beside my right hip bone.

I scream at the sharp pain of metal stabbing and tearing through my skin as he continues what he's doing, either not noticing or not caring that he's cutting me in the process. When the gash reaches the top of my thigh I know he's cut through top to bottom.

Irritated by my incessant pleas, screams, and sobs, Robin shoves his enormous hand over my face, covering my entire nose and mouth, and I continue to cry and cry, but I can't breathe. He pushes my spankies and panties away, and they catch on my left thigh since he's only cut away on one side. He doesn't care. He hastily undoes his belt and fly with one hand and pushes his jeans and boxers down his thighs. Then, with that same arm, he lifts me from the ground and slams inside me, the force of his motion crashing me back into the wall once more.

I cry out again, but he increases the pressure of his hand. If I thought I couldn't breathe before, well, now I can literally get no air. My eyes widen even more in panic.

Robin hammers hard, so damn hard, in and out of me, again and again, all the while glaring into my eyes. His are filled with anger and hatred, but my eyes plead for mercy, for air.

Somehow he gets the message. He doesn't stop fucking me. Not for a second. But he removes his hand and I gasp in precious oxygen.

"Who the fuck do you belong to, Rory?!" he growls.

"You!" I sob.

Something flashes in his eyes. Victory, possession. He is in total control of me. I am completely in his hands, and he's reveling in it.

Robin's hand moves slowly, completely out of synch with the motion of the rest of his body, which is slamming me hard and fast into the tile wall. His hand lands on my neck and something terrifying flashes in his eyes as his fingers close around my throat.

"Rob-"

He increases the pressure of his fingers, consequently choking off my desperate plea. I try to gasp for air, but he doesn't relent. My windpipe is completely closed and I am frozen in fear. I couldn't scream now if I wanted to, and Robin just continues on and on, his eyes never leaving my terrified ones as my lungs burn, and I start to get dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

"You. Are. Mine!" he bellows and increases the pace of his thrusts, if it's even possible, grunting loudly.

Black spots appear behind my eyes and I start to feel nauseated. My eyelids droop, too heavy, and suddenly I can barely muster the strength to keep them open, and as my head pounds with throbbing pain, I realize what's about to happen.

This is it.

He's going to kill me.

I'm not even sure that it wouldn't be for the best at this point. He'll never let me go, of that I have no doubt, and how could I doubt him when he's making his point so zealously? And the truth is, I'm now beyond certain that a lifetime with Robin is one I don't want to live. The thought of Cam is the only thing that keeps me hanging onto a shred of hope. That he won't go through with it. That I'll somehow make it through this.