Kink

by N. M. Catalano

  Rico takes a deep breath to keep his nerves calm. He’s here for two reasons: #1 He’s the lead investigator on the drug bust that went down on the set, after shooting wrapped today. #2 He’s keeping John and Brian from going into Elsie’s room and interrupting the investigation, interrupting is probably putting it mildly. They’ve been out here for five hours and if these two have asked him this question once, they’ve asked him a thousand times.

  “As I’ve already explained, I’ve been working on a heroin racket for a couple of months, and tonight we busted the dealer and the runners. There was a connection with someone on the crew, and I was able to use them as an informant. This scumbag got away when the shit started to go down.” Rico looks sincerely at John, “Man, I had no idea Elsie was still on set. There is no way I would have let her work late, knowing what was going to go down tonight, I was told the set was clear,” he shifts his gaze to Brian, hoping for some kind of understanding.

  John exhales a long deep breath as he runs his hands worriedly through his hair again. Brian shifts his bodyweight from one leg to the other, his way of dealing with stress is a bit more withdrawn and subtle than the way his big friend lets it out.

  “I know, Dude. Yeah, you’ve told us. And I know you wouldn’t have let Elsie be around, knowing there was danger. But I wish you would’ve told us about the fucking investigation and those fucking pieces of shit around there!” John curses, almost on the verge of yelling at Rico, in the middle of the hospital hallway, in the very early hours of the morning.

  “John,” Rico begins, trying to calm him down, “You know I couldn’t.” Rico is holding his ground.

  John and Brian both glare at Rico, hating the fact that Rico is right and they just have to accept it.

  John begins his pacing again as the door to Elsie’s room opens and the nurse exits.

  “You can go in now, but be easy on her, it’s been a lot longer night for her than you,” she warns them, giving each very pointed looks.

  John walks slowly into Elsie’s room first, followed by Brian then Rico. Marco, Elizabeth and Janie left hours ago, when Rico informed everyone that after the medical team did their preliminaries the investigators would take over, and it might not be until the early morning hours before anyone could see her. The sight of Elsie’s swollen and battered face hurts John more than if he had been beaten himself. Her short blue-back hair and bruised face are a stark contrast against the white hospital bed sheets. She’s dressed in a generic, light blue hospital gown and it’s hard to see if she’s asleep with her distorted features. Her arm has been set and is jutting out at an awkward angle, but is no longer giving her any pain. John pulls a chair up to the side of the bed and takes Elsie’s hand in his. He has officially claimed his spot next to her and God help anyone or anything if they try to get him to leave now. Brian carries another chair over, from the other side of the bed, and sits next to his friend as he gently lays a hand on Elsie’s thigh.

  “Hi, you two,” Elsie’s voice is raspy, and it’s obvious she’s faced a long fight tonight, the exhaustion is clear in those three words.

  “Ssshh, Angel,” John tries to soothe her as he strokes her free hand and arm. “Rest, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

  “You guys should go home, there’s nothing to do here,” she commands them, almost defiantly.

  “No way am I leaving you, Angel, so you might as well just get used to me being here,” John tells her warmly.

  “You’re not getting rid of us that easily, Baby Girl,” Brian teases her.

  “Elsie,” Rico breaks in tentatively, “I know you’ve had a long night. I don’t know if you heard me earlier but I’m the lead detective on a drug bust that went down tonight, and it involved the intruder you dealt with.” He’s trying to say this as gently as he can, but Elsie’s flinch is still very visible.

  “Yeah, and…?” she questions him, clearly not wanting to deal with anything else tonight.

  “I just wanted to say, if I had known you were still on the set, I would have made sure you were gone before anything went down.”

  “I know that Rico, and I appreciate it. But it still doesn’t change the fact and it’s still fucked up,” Elsie tells him, her voice almost cracking on those last two words.

  It’s clear that Rico feels very badly about what happened to Elsie, and he’s struggling with still having to do his job.

  “Well,” he continues, “I’ll be back later as it’s already tomorrow. I’m going to have to take your statement as well.” He says tentatively and smiles apologetically at her.

  “No problem, Rico. Then you can leave, so I can finally get some rest.” Elsie’s message couldn’t be any clearer.

  “Sure. Good night everyone. I am very sorry…for everything,” Rico apologizes, before he turns and quietly walks out.

  “I don’t want to talk anymore,” she says to both of them, and to no one, as she looks up at the ceiling. A tear silently slides down her face. “But thanks for being here,” she says bringing her gaze back to the two gentle and strong men at her bedside. Her genuine appreciation is heard in the words which are barely audible over the lump in her throat.

  There are no more words tonight. Just a circle of closeness, of pain and suffering, and of hope and tenderness.

  *

  “How is she doing?” Brian asks John as they’re sitting at his breakfast bar having coffee.

  Elsie has been out of the hospital a week and John would not listen to anything, except that she was coming home with him, so he could wait on her hand and foot, every minute of every day. What John has refused to admit, and probably has not been completely able to face, is the guilt that’s eating him up inside. He blames himself because he didn’t know Elsie was still on set, he feels he should have known. And he feels an incredible amount of guilt over the fact that he was not there to protect her.

  It’s 7:30 in the morning, Brian has been stopping by every day before going to his company’s construction sites and dealing with his subcontractors.

  “She’s getting stronger. Yesterday was the last day for her pain meds so she probably won’t be sleeping as much during the day from here on out.”

  John has a concerned look on his face.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Bro, and I agree,” Brian verbalizes his agreement.

  “She’s not going to be numb anymore, Brian, and the shit’s going to hit her like a brick wall,” John puts into words what both of them already know.

  “We’re going to be right here to get her through it, John.” Brian can’t hide his concern either, but he has to be the positive one. “She’s strong and she’ll get through it.”

  “You know what’s really been bothering me, Brian?” John turns and asks his friend.

  Brian waits for John to gather his thoughts and tell him what the real source of his worries are.

  “We know she went through some serious shit in her past, which lead her to hurt herself the way she did,” John looks at Brian beginning to voice his train of thought. “But we don’t know what that shit was.” John pauses.

  “What if this latest incident causes her to revert back to where she was then, Brian?”

  He looks his friend in the eyes, pain and worry are etched all across his strong features.

  “I don’t think she ever really got over that…,” John continues more to himself than to Brian. “I’m afraid we’re going to lose her, Brian.”

  “John, don’t start worrying about things before they happen. Be here for her now, give her what she needs, the love, the support, the patience, the caring. We’ll cross any bridges we come to…when it’s time.”

  John thinks about Brian’s advice and his face begins to relax a bit.

  “You’re right. I’m getting freaked out about something that hasn’t happened yet and that might not ever happen,” John agrees with Brian and pushes his worries to the side.

  John wonders if he might be feeling is a premonition of the storm that is coming. />
  *

  I’m running in a field, it’s night and I can see a sky full of stars. I can’t get my legs to move fast enough. It’s so hot I feel like I’m on fire. A hand grabs my arm, pulls me back and yanks me to the ground. It’s wet with the nighttime dew and cold against my clammy skin.

  “You want me to fuck you like the whore you are, rubbing your ass against my cock you slut.”

  I know that voice, and his disgusting smell.

  He’s ripping my clothes off and I’m trying to fight him. ‘Stay calm, Angel, keep your head clear,’ John’s voice is calling to me.

  “Give me that tight little ass of yours, bitch!” he yells, spitting in my face.

  I look up into his face. It’s Charlie Myers, the boy who raped me and took my virginity in high school.

  “NOOOOOOOOO!!!” Elsie screams, sitting up in bed, waking from her nightmare, shaking and covered in sweat. Her heart is pounding and she’s going to be sick.

  “Elsie, Angel, I’m right here, you’re ok, you’re safe!” John puts his arms around her and tries to comfort her.

  “Let me go, I’m going to throw up, John,” Elsie moans as she pushes away from him and runs to the bathroom. After slamming the door behind her, John can hear her retching, while her body convulses from heaving as she vomits.

  Some time passes, and the noises coming from the other side of the door stopped a short while ago.

  “Elsie, Angel, open the door, let me in,” John orders her softly. He feels so helpless listening to her sobs, her coughs, her intense pain and there isn’t a damn thing he can do to make it better for her.

  “Go away, John,” comes Elsie’s weak voice from the other side of the door.

  “Angel, if you don’t open this door I’m going to bust it down, it’s your choice,” he replies calmly.

  “Why did I have to get stuck with a huge brute?” John can hear Elsie mumble through the six panel door and it makes him smile.

  That’s my Baby Girl, he thinks as his heart swells with adoration, pride and pain.

  When he hears the lock click, he waits just a second, then realizes she’s not opening the door for him. Slowly he turns the handle and pushes the door open. Inside he sees Elsie lying down on the cool tile floor with a towel over her for a blanket and another under her for a cushion. The sight makes his heart break.

  “What are you doing, Angel?” he asks her.

  “I’m going back to sleep,” she answers him flatly.

  “What?” He can’t believe what he just heard.

  “I’m going to sleep, please turn off the light when you go out.”

  John stands there immobilized for a minute, half in the bathroom and half out. He realizes that this is a turning point for them and where it’s going to lead them he does not know.

  He turns and heads back to the bed. Elsie is fully aware of all of his movements, there is not a step he takes that she doesn’t know. He returns with two pillows under one arm and the blanket tucked in the other. He shuts off the light and comes to stand next to her.

  “Lift your head, Angel,” John tells her softly.

  She does and he slides a pillow under her head. He lays the blanket down next to her and sets the other pillow on top of it. Lowering his big frame down onto a sliver of blanket he lifts the rest of it to cover them both.

  *

  “Elsie, are you ready?” John calls up to her from downstairs.

  Today’s Elsie’s follow-up with the doctor, and hopefully her arm will be good enough not to have it confined any longer. The swelling has gone down on her face but it’s still covered in pukey-green and yellow bruises.

  “I’m not five, John,” she says annoyed as she comes down the stairs.

  “Sorry, Angel, I know, I’m just worried about traffic,” he says with a sheepish look on his face.

  “Well, if you’re so worried about traffic, I can drive myself, you know I am more than capable. You don’t have to keep me prisoner here anymore,” Elsie snaps at him.

  She’s been snapping a lot lately, it seems like she’s constantly trying to start fights.

  “You know it’s not like that, Elsie. Let’s go, hopefully today your arm will be back to normal.”

  “Yeah, that’s about the only thing,” she mumbles as she heads for the door, grabbing her pocketbook and phone on the way out.

  John couldn’t help but hear her and the comment only adds to the fears that began exploding inside of him a few days ago. The day he talked to Brian.

  In the car, on the way to the doctor’s office, John turns on the radio. This is the first time Elsie’s been out of the house since the attack. Her knuckles are white, from gripping the seat so tightly, and her eyes are as big as saucers. Her head is snapping back and forth, looking from here to there.

  “How are you feeling, Elsie,” John asks quietly, as he places his big hand over hers. He feels her grip loosening on the seat under his gentle touch and relaxing a little.

  “I guess I’m a little wound-up,” she turns towards him and gives a tight smile. “I’m sorry, John, I don’t mean to be such a bitch.”

  “Hey now, don’t say that, you’re not. You’re nervous, that’s all, it’s understandable,” he tries to reassure her, shushing her as she starts to let it out. He brings her hand to his lips and kisses it lightly before placing it back on the seat between them.

  “Yeah, I guess it’s nerves,” Elsie says as she looks out the window, her eyes are darting back and forth, searching for something she’s not quite sure of.

  *

  Dr. Hashimi is a soft spoken, petite, (the only word to describe him), Indian doctor who has permanent laugh lines in his small face. His demeanor is kind and gentle, but he is very serious about his patient’s complete well-being. He calls John into his office while Elsie is with the physical therapists, working on the mobility of her injured arm.

  “Thanks for talking with me, John,” Dr. Hashimi begins.

  Is the guy serious? John thinks.

  “No, Doc, we need to thank you for how endearing you’ve been with Elsie. You knew exactly how she needed to be treated. She may be tough, but she needs a little extra TLC,” John tells him.

  “I’m glad to hear you talk like that John. Because there are a couple of things I need to speak to you about today,” the doctor continues, as he leans forward and clasps his hands in front of him on the desk.

  John instantly becomes on guard. He knows immediately that he’s not going to like this.

  “Just tell me, Doc.” John’s stiff as he’s waiting for the blow.

  “Did you know that Elsie was raped before?” the doctor asks him plainly.

  The blow of the shock almost knocks John out of his chair.

  “No, I didn’t,” he quietly states.

  “And all of those scars, from the gashes on her body, is how she dealt with it.” The doctor pauses a moment before he continues. “Every one of those cuts was self-inflicted. I reviewed her records from her family doctor back then, some of them required medical attention, stitches, and she received therapy for a short while afterwards.”

  “I had an idea that the scars were self-inflicted, but I didn’t want to press her on it. I figured she’d tell me when she was ready.”

  Dr. Hashimi leans forward even more, getting as close to John, across the big mahogany desk, as he can.

  “John, I’m going to be frank with you. You’re an intelligent man and have been through and survived a lot, more than anyone else I know.”

  “I appreciate that Doc, I would hope that you were. I don’t know how to deal with the situation if I don’t know what the situation is.”

  “Elsie is suffering from PTSD, you’re familiar with that. The latest assault has triggered all of the garbage from the first. She is having a very hard time, and I’m just hoping that she doesn’t fall back on her old coping mechanism of self-mutilation. She needs to get into therapy immediately, and I would recommend that you attend as well, you could consider it as AL Ano
n for PTSD sufferers. I have to tell you that I’m seriously concerned where this could take her, if she doesn’t get help now,” Dr. Hashimi finishes, not holding anything back, as he looks John directly in the eye.

  “I appreciate your candor, Doctor,” is all that John can manage.

  “I’ve had my receptionist arrange a preliminary appointment for both of you, here is the address and the time. Make sure she gets there John, or you could really lose her…for good,” he says stone-faced as he passes John a stark white appointment card with black writing on it.

  “Thank you,” John mumbles as he takes the card.

  If John were just a regular civilian, he would have been unprepared for the shit that just hit the fan, and hit him in the face in the process.

  The storm he was worried about has finally arrived.

  *

  “Why don’t we stop for lunch since we’re out today, Angel, what would you like to eat?” John asks Elsie as he slides into the driver’s side as they’re leaving Dr. Hashimi’s office.

  He thinks it would be best not to bring up the therapy recommendation yet. John’s sure the doctor brought it up to Elsie as well, and frankly he’d rather she start the conversation about it, not him. But he’ll give her a set amount of time to do so, and if she doesn’t, then he will.

  “Oh my God, I would love to have a big messy burger and greasy French fries. Don’t get me wrong,” she says, describing the burger almost orgasmicly, “You’re a great cook and you’ve been taking amazing care of me but sometimes a girls got to slum it and eat crap food.”

  John’s head falls back as he laughs good and hard for the first time in over a week.

  “Whatever you want, Angel, you just have to ask,” he says as he leans in to kiss her pretty pinkish green lips.

  Elsie visibly stiffens, from the show of affection, but she doesn’t pull away. John notices, but doesn’t say anything about it, and goes on as if nothing happened. This is something he’d need to ask the therapist about; should he let these things go or talk through them? You know, kind of addressing the elephant in the room sort of thing.