Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors (64 page)

Once the spare was in place, Henry tossed the flat tire and jack into the trunk. “Man, we gotta get outta here,” he grumbled and he went in search of his friend.

Following crushed undergrowth, he found them in a small clearing, a hundred yards from the road. Susan's torn clothing littered the area. She was lying naked on her stomach with Luke, pants around his ankles, pumping away from behind.

“Come on, Luke,” Henry begged quietly, “we gotta get outta here."

Luke continued as if he hadn't heard Henry until he moaned lewdly and pulled his swollen penis out of her rectum. He scrambled to his feet and pulled up his pants while Susan lay motionless at his feet. “She's really a good lookin’ piece ‘o ass,” he said. “I wanna show you somethin',” he said, pulling Susan to her knees by her hair. “Is that a fine piece ‘o ass, or what?"

Bruises, dead leaves, pine needles and dirt clung to her body. Henry stared at the matted blood on her pubic hair and staining her thighs. “Shit, man,” he said. “You done fucked a virgin."

“Tightest pussy I ever had,” Luke grinned. “Almost as tight as her butt-hole, and look at this.” He ran his finger over Susan's lips. “Suck my finger, bitch,” he demanded, tightening her hair twisted in his fist. She did. “Ain't that a purty little mouth on her? I saved that fer you, Henry."

“Shit, may as well,” Henry said, unzipping his pants.

“Come on, bitch, suck his thang,” Luke commanded. “Suck it good, damn it. Suck it. Suck it. I wanna hear ya suckin’ it. I wanna see your throat moving. Suck that thang, honey. Use your tongue. Rub your tongue under his thang while you suck him off, bitch. Is she using her tongue on you, Henry?"

“Yeah, Luke, she's doing real good."

“Ram it down her throat, Henry. She loves it. Ram it down her fuckin’ throat."

“Toooooo laaaate."

Henry staggered back and looked at his semen dripping from the woman's lips. “Luke, we gotta get outta here,” Henry said, zipping up his pants. “A state trooper stopped a little while ago. He may come back."

“Why the hell didn't ya tell me?"

“What we gonna do with the woman? She can finger us."

Luke grinned at Susan, twisting her hair tighter. “She ain't gonna tell nobody, are ya sweetheart?"

She shook her head negatively.

“That's a good girl,” he said, and he slammed his fist into her jaw. She crumpled to the ground.

“You move a muscle and I'll blow your fucking heads off."

Luke and Henry's eyes filled with terror. State troopers and sheriff deputies surrounded them, weapons drawn.

Susan did not see her rescue. She did not see the state trooper tenderly cover her with a blanket. She did not see the tears that stained his cheeks. She did not hear his apology for being too late. She did not know when the Dot Rescue squad slipped her onto a stretcher and loaded her into an ambulance. However, when she woke up in her sister's clinic, she knew someone had saved her life.

“Baby,” Vic cried as soon as Susan opened her front door. “Oh, Susan, baby, I'm so sorry.” She allowed his embrace but did not return it.

He stroked her hair as she lay her cheek on his shoulder. “Susan, I'm so sorry. I was out of town. I came as soon as I heard."

“There's nothing you could have done. I'm all right."

“You're not all right, Susan. Mary Lou said it was a viscous assault. You should be at the clinic, or at least at your sister's house."

“That's what Mary Lou said. You're both wrong. It happened. It's something I'll ... we'll have to live with."

She pulled away from him. “Want something to drink?"

“Yeah, I'll fix it. You sit down and rest."

They sat beside each other on the sofa sipping their drinks. The TV flickered in the corner with muted sound. “They say it helps to talk about it,” he said at last.

“I was raped—vagina, anus and mouth. You want to hear details?"

“Honey,” he said reaching for her. “That's not what I meant."

“Their dicks were bigger than yours—lots bigger—longer, fatter—filthy. It hurt like hell.” She pulled away from him and saw the pained look on his face. “I'm sorry Vic. I forgot that men are sensitive about the size of their penises. I meant it as a compliment. They hurt when they were inside me. Your size is perfect. It won't hurt."

She stood up and walked to the bar to pour another drink. He noticed her limp.

“Did I like it?” she said. “Hell no, I didn't like it. My first sexual experience—a dick in my pussy, my asshole and my mouth and I didn't like any of it.” She looked at Vic, still sitting on the sofa. She felt sorry for him. “I'm saving that for you. That was one thing they couldn't take away from me,” she said with expressionless eyes.

He crossed the room, took the glass and folded her in his arms. She rested her hands gently on his buttocks.

“I've made so many mistakes, Vic."

“Susan, you couldn't help what happened."

“I'm not talking about that,” she said. “Vic, you still want to get married Christmas Eve?"

“You bet,” he answered eagerly.

“Well,” she said. “We'd better get busy. We have less than two months to plan it."

“You mean it, Susan?” He wanted to kiss her lips, but she did not turn them to him. He settled for her forehead.

“Yes, I mean it."

They went to the kitchen table and began to make notes—a wedding “to do” list. It helped to take their minds off things until Susan yawned. “That stuff Mary Lou gave me is kicking in. I had already taken it when you arrived. It's time for me to go to bed."

“Okay, honey, but I'm not going to leave you alone tonight. I don't care what you say. I'll sack out on the sofa."

“No you won't. I want you to sleep in my bed with me. I want you to fuck me."

“What?"

“You heard me. You've wanted to get into my panties since you first met me. Well, tonight's the night."

“Susan, you were so set on saving that for our wedding night."

“Another mistake. There's nothing left to save. I wanted you to be my first and only. My stupid fixation with being a virgin on our wedding night robbed you of being the first, but I'll never deny you again."

“I'll sleep on the sofa,” he said softly.

She pushed away from the table and focused her sleepy eyes on him. “I guess you don't want me now that I'm damaged goods.” She looked away.

He rushed to her and grabbed her hands. “Bullshit on the damaged goods. You know me better than that. I'm just helping you keep your dream alive. You're still a virgin, Susan. It was a forced physical assault. You haven't made love to anyone yet. I can still be your first and it can still be on our wedding night."

The tears finally came and she melted into his arms. He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom where he gently laid her on the bed. “Goodnight, Susan. I love you with all my heart,” he said and he kissed her lightly on her bruised lips.

She grabbed his hand and held it tightly. With a groggy voice she said, “You're forcing me to tell you the whole truth. I may be pregnant, Vic. I'm not on the pill. I didn't think there was any reason for birth control yet. Abortion is a woman's choice, but I will not take this little life if it exists. It did not ask to come into being any more than I asked for the rape. I want you to make love to me Vic—tonight. If I am pregnant, we'll never know for sure who the father is."

He sat on the bed, tempted. He stroked her hair. He watched her begin to unbutton her dress.

“If you do have a baby, who will your husband be?"

“You."

“And whose name will go on the birth certificate as the father?"

“Yours."

“And who will be the best father any child ever had?"

“You,” she said, touching him tenderly on the cheek.

“Goodnight, Susan."

“I must say, Jan, that I never expected you to seek my advice again,” said Mack McGee as he welcomed her to his study.

“Like you said the last time, preacher,” Jan smiled, “your price is right."

“How are things with you and Jake?” Mack asked as Jan sat on the sofa.

“About the same. He seemed a little strange when he returned from that buying trip, but that lasted for only a couple of days. The last two weeks have been fairly normal."

“I take it there is something in particular you want to discuss with me today?"

“Yes. I don't know exactly how to put it into words, though. I told you a little about myself the last time I was here."

“I remember, and I assume you still haven't mentioned it to Jake."

“No, I haven't. I tried, but I just can't bring myself to do it."

“Has he said anything about marriage again?"

“He came close one night after we heard that Susan Honneycutt and Vic Kimel are getting married at the Dollar's Christmas Eve party, but he backed off at the last second, thank goodness."

“Why do you say ‘thank goodness'?” Mack asked. “I got the impression you want to marry him."

“I do and I don't. It's not fair to him to marry without knowing about my past, and I just can't screw up the courage to tell him. I was wondering if you would tell him for me?"

“No."

“I expected you to say that, but I thought you'd be a little more diplomatic about it."

“Jan, it wouldn't help matters if I told him. It must come from you."

“You know the kind of person I've been. Compare me with Susan Honneycutt. If ever there was a ‘girl next door', it is Susan, but look at what happened to her. It just isn't right that a sweet innocent girl like that should suffer so, and a no-good slut like me should wind up with a super guy like Jake and live happily ever after."

“You consider yourself a bad person?"

“You know I do."

“You're not."

“You don't know me.” Jan looked out the window, trying to keep the moisture in her eyes from erupting into tears.

“True, but I still say you're not a bad person. If you knew me a little better, you'd know that many people consider my theology weird. Be that as it may, I believe that there are no bad people. There are just people who, from time to time, make bad choices. Some people make more bad choices than others do, but we're all capable of dramatic improvement in the choices we make. It appears to me that you have come to a point in your life where you are beginning to make many good choices, and you're finding out that making good choices is sometimes very difficult."

Jan tried to smile. “I get the feeling you are preaching me a sermon."

“A warmed-over sermon at that,” Mack laughed. “This is basically my sermon from last Sunday."

“What about those two slime-balls who worked Susan over? Are they just people who made some wrong choices?"

“Yes. Even they have the opportunity to begin to make good choices in their lives. We must all pay the consequences of our bad choices, of course. That, to me, is what hell is all about?"

“Hell?"

“Yes. I don't believe in an afterlife place of eternal punishment. I believe hell is the condition we bring on ourselves when our wrong choices catch up to us, right here on earth."

“Then you also believe that heaven is a condition we create through right choices?"

Mack smiled. “You're trying to poke a hole in my theology. I believe that a hell on earth can also be created by other people's wrong choices that directly effect us—so we can suffer from other people's evil as well as our own. To me, heaven
is
the afterlife."

“But if there is no hell in the afterlife, what happens to evil people when they die?"

“Again, I don't believe there are any evil or bad people. When we die I believe we all enter into a heaven where throughout all eternity we will only make good choices."

“Then everybody's going to heaven. That doesn't seem fair."

“It isn't. That's what Jesus did for mankind when he died on the cross for the sins of the world. He paid the price of evil for all of us."

“Is that in the Bible?"

Mack laughed again. “Yes, it is, but it would take a while to show you. There are no ‘proof texts’ and I confess I stole this theology from a small group of Primitive Baptists. I am writing a book on it, but I'll probably never find a publisher willing to print such a radical idea."

Mack watched Jan stroll to the window and gaze out at the falling leaves. “The church yard needs raking. Is that part of your responsibilities as the church pastor?"

Mack laughed. “A group of church members plan to come Saturday to rake leaves. You are welcome to join us."

Jan turned, and with sparkling eyes said, “Don't hold your breath.” She returned to the sofa. “Somewhere along the line we got off the subject."

“No we didn't,” Mack insisted. “I made several important points during the magnificent lecture I just gave you."

“I need a summary."

“Okay. You are not a bad person, but along the way, you have made some bad choices. The distress you are now experiencing—your personal hell—is a direct result not only of the bad choices of the past, but also of the good choices you now want to make."

“Okay, Mack. To use your terminology, which choice is better—tell Jake and risk losing him, or remain silent and risk him finding out from somebody else?"

Mack smiled broadly.

“What's funny?"

“I am very proud of you."

“Why, what did I do?"

“You have moved all the way over to the side of good choices. Bad choices are usually easy to make. Good choices are much more difficult, and the damnable thing is deciding which good choice is the best. You know that I think your best choice is to tell Jake about your past and take your chances, but ultimately you must make the decision."

“Thanks for nothing,” she said, but her eyes continued to sparkle.

“Jake asked me to give you a message,” said Carl Elliott when Jan arrived at home. “He's gone to Charlotte to pick up some shipping cartons and package sealing tape—he'll be back by suppertime."

“Thanks, Carl. Your crew has done a great job of transforming this old shack into a beautiful home."

“Thank you, ma'am. I agree, and they finished by Thanksgiving instead of Christmas. I ought to charge you and Jake extra for that."