Tragedy

"There's no need, I gotta car.  I'll take you home."

 

            She smiles, but her eyes seem to say 'thanks' with a hint of sarcasm, with a trailed off 'prick'.  We help the stumbling hulk to the door, and let him in the back seat of the car.  By the time we were backing from the parking lot, he'd asked me who I was again, twice.  Alexia pointed the way out for me, and we stopped to a gas station after around 20 minutes.  I paid the cashier for the gas, a bag of chips, and a 2 sodas, then I go on to pump the gas.  When I get back in the car, I give Alexia the chips and a soda.

 

            She thanks me, but she doesn't really seem to want anything.  Something was on her mind, as we finish our mostly silent ride.  The only words were her pointing out the directions, and the song on the radio.  Damon had been asleep, and I was trying to think of something to say.  I couldn't come up with anything, so I asked what I could.

 

"What's wrong?"

 

            Although she had not opened the bag of chips, she then crinkled it slightly.  She looked at me, seriously, hesitant to speak.

 

"Can I go back to your house with you?  Do you have enough room?"

 

            She saw me change, I think.  Did she do that JUST to make me uncomfortable?

 

"Why?"

"Is that no?"

"No, that's 'why?',"

"Don't get me wrong, I know what it sounds like.  I don't mean to sound sluttish, and that's not my point.  I just...really don't wanna stay home tonight."

"Don't you have friends?"

"I dunno.  Do I?"

 

            I thought about it for a while, but I couldn't figure out what that was supposed to mean.

 

"Yeah, you can stay, but I doubt you'll like it."

 

            She smiled softly, but I didn't.  This smile was bullshit, it was false.  She read the discontent in my eyes, and those were our last words doing our trip.

 

            I pulled into the driveway, to see a tiny old woman waiting in the yard.  Her rough, leathery face looking surprised at the car.  Alexia got out and woke her brother, I waved at the woman from behind the windshield, with no intent of getting out.  She looked at me, then at Alexia and Damon.  They talked for a while, the woman indicating my car numerous times.  Damon goes in, and Alexia signals for me to come.  Reluctantly, I take the keys from the ignition, and step out, to meet the woman.  Alexia introduces us.

 

"Mom, this is Alex.  Alex, this is my mom."  Alexia's voice wasn't very steady as she spoke. 

I shook the woman's hand, "Hi, Mrs. Bhardini,"

"Nice to meet you, young man.  My dear Alexia tells me you've helped calm Damon.  You must be stronger than you look."

I forced a nervous laugh as she looks at my eyeliner.  "Yeah, I think he is," says Alexia, trying to make her turn away, I assumed. 

 

            In turn, the woman stares at my face, hard.

 

"Do you go to church, young man?"

"No, I don't.  I believe I can find God in my back yard, or anywhere, so long as I truly believe."

 

            Her face says 'liar', but she didn't speak.

 

"I'll go and get my stuff..."

 

            Alexia goes inside the house, and leaves me for the sanctimonious judgment I was sure I'd receive.

 

"You live around here?"

"Yeah, I live maybe...5 minutes away."

 

            She lights a cigarette.

 

"You smoke?"

"Never."

"How long've you known my daughter?"

"3 years."

"You think she's a good child?"

"Of course."

 

            The woman looks me down, and I start getting frustrated.  She invites me into the house, to sit on a couch the front, and I do.  I took note of the house's dark, and poorly kept condition.  It was clean; however it was in a state of plain disrepair.

 

"Do you have a job?"

"Yes."

"What do you do?"

"I'm the cashier in my uncle's restaurant."

"That's nice.  Are you interested in my daughter?"  I didn't respond.

"She told you about her last boyfriend?"

"No."

"He's dead."

 

            Alexia finally comes back out, with a bag of what I assume is clothing and other things. 

 

"I'm ready, now."

"You're sure you aren't forgetting anything?"

"I'm sure, mom."

"Alright then, have fun, you two."

 

            It bothered me that she didn't really care, but I kept the thought to myself.  Alexia seemed nervous during the entire trip, but I was nervous too, so it didn't matter.  The sound of her breathing started to fluctuate, but it was too dark to see anything more than her silhouette inside of the car.  As we pulled into my garage, and got out of the car, I could see she was wiping away tears.  I felt guilty, instantly, somehow.  Maybe it was for not noticing sooner...

 

"Alexia..."

"What?"

"Why're you crying?"

 

            She didn't respond, she said absolutely nothing.  I waited until we were in my front room, and then I asked again.

 

"Because I'm a pathetic, murdering son of a b***h."

 

            First, my heart skipped a beat.  Then, my initial shock turned into a sudden irrational anger.

 

"Who the f**k told you that!?"

"The family of the boy I killed, my mom, and my older brother."

"The drunk and your mom?"

"No, my oldest brother, not Damon.  My oldest brother was best friends with the boy I killed, and you haven't met him."

"Your mother?  S**t..."

 

            I start to put the two pieces laid out before me together.  Her mom made it a point to mention Alexia's ex was dead, but I didn't think she'd mean Alexia was the killer.  Although I didn't really know her, I felt like I could trust Alexia-I know I could, and I did.  At this moment, I instantly hated the b***h.  Alexia's mom was even more of a b***h than I could've ever first imagined.  I think I started to realize what they were talking about while I was in the car, now.  I realized why her mom was making all those indications to me.  She was flaunting her daughter, deliberately throwing her past into her face.  I pulled Alexia close to me, somehow reflexively, and she buries her head in my chest, like a hurt child.  She needed comfort, I felt I knew...now she felt like me.

 

"Tell me what happened."

"We were at my house, alone.  We'd been together for 3 years, so everyone trusted him.  He thought we'd progressed more than I was willing to, and he wanted to f**k.  What's so important about f*****g, anyway?  All he wanted was to f**k me, so he could tell his friends about it anyway, I'll bet."

 

            I didn't say a word while she spoke.  I was burning inside, and sympathetic with her at the same time.  My conflicting emotions threatened to overtake me in ways I didn't completely comprehend, as she continued to speak.

 

"He kept trying to convince me, but I wouldn't.  I told him it'd be best for him to leave after a while, and then he changed.  He stopped trying to reason, and started trying to demand it, and justify it.  After everything was over, I think it was because he was high.  I didn't know it until he was dead, and the s**t was found in his system.  It wasn't him, but I killed him anyway..."

"Don't you dare blame yourself!"

 

            She looked up at me in surprise, and I squeezed her tightly, instinctively.  She had a chill, I think, as she went on.  She'd started, and couldn't stop.  The emotional burden was coming out, and though it hurt now, I felt inside she'd feel better later on.

 

"He snatched me close, and pushed me onto my bed.  In my own house...the m**********r had the audacity--” She sighs,

"I tried to run, but he caught me first, now in the hall.  Now he put me on the floor, and I couldn't get loose, no matter how hard I tried...he was on top of me.  I tried first, to scream, and he covers my mouth.  I manage to get one arm loose, and first struggled to push him off me, then when that and biting didn't work, I dug my nails into his arm.  I recall him cursing as he catches both my arms in one hand over my head, I felt so pissed off then, to be so much smaller and so helpless.  I bite his hand as hard as I can, and he snatches it back, surprised, and he swore.  I started to scream, and my air was cut instantly.  I only managed that yelp of a scream as he punched me twice in the stomach, and I couldn't breathe.  I thought I was gonna die, it hurt so much, and I felt smothered beneath him.  I could've brought my knee into his f****n' balls, but at that point I was too scared he'd punch me again.  I submitted in my head.  I was trying to breathe, but I couldn't, and I couldn't get loose."

 

            She was trembling, her hands were fists, and now her voice was nearly a whisper.  A violently angry whisper.  I could feel the sharp breaths she'd been taking, and I felt sorrow for her.  I don't think she noticed that I was trembling, feeling her anger.  Though I didn't fully understand that pain, I know how weak she must've felt then.  She now reminded me of a child in my arms, looking back at the things she wanted to do, the things she could've done.

 

"I had a sudden idea--the knife on the shelf in my room, if I could manage to get to it.  He took his time about it, fortunately, groping and pulling at my clothes, and I'm glad he did.  As he began to pull at my shirt, I kneed him in those f****n' precious balls, twice, as quickly and as hard as I could.  He couldn't reach and catch my leg soon enough, and the third time he moved, swearing again.  I scrambled to my feet, and I remember standing, I'd felt more like crawling, my stomach seemed to pull me down, it hurt so much.  So much for adrenaline.  I didn't stop, but it deterred me enough for him to catch me again, and he threw me onto my bed, and I hit my mouth on the shelf.  I could feel blood trickling from my mouth to my chin, but it didn't hurt.  I grabbed the knife as he reached for me, and I slashed across his stomach, but he didn't notice, I guess.  I brought the knife back around, and slashed his shoulder, and again, going across his throat frantically.  Now he knew, and he tried to pull back...too late.  He was dead now, and I saw in his eyes as he realized it.  I saw the fear in his eyes, he was afraid of me..."

 

            She took a deep breath, and now she talked steadier.  Her voice was still cracked, though...

 

"I realized then, that I'd killed him as well.  I reacted without thought, trying to come to his aid while he was still standing...he mouthed 'you f****n' b***h!', and I didn't even see him hit me.  I know blood was trickling from my broken nose, and he was swinging another punch, but he missed, and I moved s he fell.  He squirmed as he tried to get up, but he wasn't getting back up.  I called the hospital for him, frantic, and the police came too.  I know then, I'd been really frantic, afraid to go to jail.  Surprisingly, the police believed me, but his family, my mother and brother...they didn't.  I was in the hospital for two days, and missed my 14th birthday.  Except for my nose, everything was okay-I spent most of that time in forced therapy, before my mother demanded I come home or go to jail, as therapy was a waste of time and money."

 

            She didn't say anything more, she was anticipating my reaction. 

 

"Your family made that hell on you, huh?  I'll bet they thought they knew him so well, and you were a cold hearted b***h who killed him unjustly."

"Yeah...how'd you guess?"

"And now you're actually taking their words to heart.  That's not helping a damn thing..."

 

            I felt comfortable now.  I didn't think about me, just her.  I didn't feel nervous about her presence, and I wasn't thinking about the feel of her body against mine.  My only desire at that moment, was correcting her wrongfully felt guilt.

 

"You're not a murderer, you deserve praise.  I admire that you could defend yourself, and I'm glad you didn't let him rape you.  I think living would be so much harder for you now, if you looked back at how you gave in, and did nothing.  Don't listen to them, they're wrong.  You held until now, so giving in now...wouldn't that make all of the endurance thus far pointless?  Don't let them break you, Alexia."

 

            It surprised her to hear me say that, I think.  She wasn't crying so hard anymore, the tears had slowed.  She was still trembling, however-still traumatized by the memory.  Now, she talked about his family.

 

"You didn't see his mother's crying face, or feel my brother's pain with losing his best friend.  You don't feel the scorn of the friends who abandoned you, and of the students who don't believe he tried to rape me."

"Why wouldn't they believe you?"

"He would never try, had he been himself.  He was typically trying to seem angry, but I knew it wasn't really him."

"Obviously, that doesn't really matter.  I say f**k them, and let them live their delusions."

 

            She didn't say anything, but I knew she was smiling inside.  She was afraid I wouldn't believe her, but she thought I was different because I helped her earlier.  She felt I should know, but why?  Her mother probably said I'd leave, if I knew how much of a b***h she was...was that why she was so troubled in the car?  Maybe she'd just been afraid of her mother's reaction to her being with a guy.  Either way, I know that she didn't feel as bad now as before.  I was almost positive now, that she'd felt the same...she wanted me to know, and wanted me not to think ill of her.

 

"I'm glad to be here, now...thanks."

"For what?"

 

            And now, it was awkward again.  I was again, at a loss for words, and nervous being close to her.  I'm sure she felt the change, and made it worse as she moved closer, and pressed her body against mine, in a way more so than a friend.  Her arms were around me now, not placed upon my chest, and I'm sure it set up for quite the romantic scene.  At least, it did in my mind.

 

            I felt nervous, but I tried to calm down, letting my arms ease down to her waist, and I soon relaxed into the feel.  I knew for sure now that she felt the same, and I only imagined in my head that both of us had been afraid to express it.  Now that we had passed into the moment, neither of us wanted to release it.  This moment, we both knew, was the birth of something promising.

 

            She felt nice against me, relaxed.  Her heartbeat was considerably slower than mine, and I grew curious why she could relax and ease into this so much better than I could.  She was real, and strong enough to express herself to me, but I was still afraid.  I was afraid of rejection, and of her thinking ill of me.  I was still afraid to make a move against her, even though she'd already known I withheld the desire.  She's impossibly attentative...she knew how I felt the moment I threw that first punch, I'd thought.

 

            As much as I enjoyed this moment, I let her go, to speak.

 

"There's only one bed, there, in my room. You can have it, I'll sleep on the couch."

"No, that's not necessary, I'll just--"

"Take the bed."

"It's your house."

"You're the guest."

"Which is why I'll sleep elsewhere--"

"Well whatever, decide that then, I'm gonna take a shower."

 

            Despite the slight frustration, I took pleasure in her presence.

 

"Where are your parents, anyway?" she asked, suddenly.

"They're dead."

 

            She said nothing, and I turned to face her a moment.

 

"That was years ago.  I'm 19, and more than capable of taking care of myself."

"I'm 17, and I've heard that before from people who claim bankruptcy."

"That's actually a pretty good idea..."

"I'm serious."

I sighed, "Alexia, don't spoil a good mood.  Mentioning my parents is bad enough, but it's pure insulting to call me incompetent."

"I never--"

"My uncle's the manager of the restaurant earlier.  He took care of me up until 2 years ago, when I left on my own.  If I need to, I'll fall back on him."

 

            I expected her to have something more to say, but she dropped it, and asked another question, this one I had no problem answering...

 

"Where's your room?"
"I'll show you when I'm done."

"So I wait?"

"Do whatever till I'm done."

 

            I sat back and thought about today.  Jeff, the b*****d has the nerves to think I'm scared.  I knew Monday was gonna be a blast when I saw him.  I tried to focus on that, but my mind was elsewhere...

 

            She was nearly raped, and nobody believed her.  The memories that scar her mind, the pain she recalls so vividly, and the tears she still cries.  They didn't believe her.  I wonder to myself how many b*****s she'd become.  As I sift through the mental images of everyone she loved turning on her, I realized me and Damon were all she had.  I'm the only one she has to come to, Damon is probably too commonly out of his right mind.  Years of misery she entrusted me with, and I gave her a blind eye the instant it was over.

 

            After I finished the shower and brushed my teeth, I dressed in a white sleeveless shirt and blue jeans.  I was gonna go to bed, so I'd had no makeup on.  I went back to the front room, where I'd left her.  She'd removed her top shirt, and was sitting on my couch in a light blue shoulder-less shirt, something she might've been wearing at home.  She hadn't yet noticed me there yet, because she was looking at my parents wedding picture.  I myself didn't notice, until she asked me about it.

 

"These are your parents?"

"Yeah..."

"They look nice...they actually smile, unlike you."

"My mom smiled beautifully when she blew my dad's head open, too."

 

            She looked up at me now, nervous.  The look on her face made me think that she'd just stabbed me accidentally, more than mention something disgusting.  I nearly laughed to myself as she stuttered on what to say.

 

"I-I'm sorry, I--"

"I know.  Don't worry about it."

 

Awkward silence once more...

 

"Where's your shower?"

 

            She avoided asking about my parents, I knew it.  Because I snapped before, she was avoiding personal questions.  I sat down beside her, and relaxed.

 

"Go head and find it, I just got comfortable."

"...You're an a*s, you know that?"

"Correction: I'm a lazy a*s."

 

            She smirks at me, then gets up, and walks out of sight soon.  The warmth inside faded instantly at the sight of the picture she'd left on the couch.  I picked it up, and returned it to its place on the wall.  Afterwards, I lie down upon the couch, and close my eyes, soon enough drifting into another of many hollow sleeps...