Straw Man

by Patrick Logan

  Besides, now she had the gun.

  Robin had revealed to her that sometimes the power was in the showing and not the using, something she hoped continued to hold true else rendering the plastic toy in her purse useless.

  Robin…

  It seemed implausible that the hooded girl would be here now, past midnight on a random day of a random week, but she was.

  Hanna squinted hard, not truly believing what she was seeing.

  Robin appeared at the side of the road, or maybe she had been there all along and was just hiding in the shadows and chose this moment to slip into the light.

  “Never thought I’d see you back here,” the girl said, pulling back her hood. Her short black hair was tied up in a ponytail this time, but other than that, she looked exactly as she had when Hanna had met her, right down to the clothes she was wearing.

  “Neither did I,” Hanna replied in an oddly calm voice.

  Robin smirked.

  “Didn’t you learn your lesson last time? This place isn’t safe for you.”

  Instead of answering, Hanna subconsciously reached into her backpack and fondled the fake gun.

  “Ah, you’ve come with protection this time,” Robin said with a chuckle.

  It was this word, ‘protection’, that broke Hanna.

  She started to cry again, even though she felt dried up inside.

  Brett hadn’t used protection. What if he has AIDS? What if he got me pregnant?

  Incoherent thoughts rambled in her head until Hanna could no longer contain herself. She pulled her hand out of the bag and cupped her face as she sobbed.

  “Shit,” she heard Robin mutter.

  Then the girl was beside her, gently wrapping her in her arms. Somewhere deep down, Hanna knew that this was all insane, that she was seeking comfort in a person she’d only met once before. A person she knew next to nothing about.

  Hanna lost it completely and she pressed herself into Robin’s sweatshirt, crying uncontrollably. The girl responded by caressing her head.

  Moments passed and then Hanna really had run dry. Sniffling, she sat up and wiped her nose with the back of her arm.

  Embarrassed, she said, “I’m sorry.”

  Robin made a face as if she was confused by this remark.

  “Don’t be. You couldn’t imagine how many times I’ve cried like that.”

  Hanna couldn’t picture Robin crying at all. Not the girl who had stood up to three much larger boys, one with a knife, wielding only a toy gun. When Hanna had collapsed on Robin, she’d discovered that the girl was thinner than expected. But she wasn’t frail.

  She was tough, strong.

  She wouldn’t let anyone do to her what Brett had done to Hanna.

  No fucking way.

  As if hearing her thoughts, Robin said, “It’s true—I wasn’t always like this.” She paused, looking off into space. Then shuddered and returned her attention to Hanna. “Tell me what happened.”

  Hanna lowered her gaze, but Robin forced her eyes back up.

  “Your pupils are dilated.”

  Hanna made a face.

  “So?”

  “So, you’ve been dabbling tonight, haven’t you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Robin lifted a finger to the bright streetlamp above.

  “Pupils are dilated even in the light. You’ve taken something tonight. And I’m guessing by all the crying that either you didn’t mean to or you regret it.”

  Hanna thought back to how fast the beer had hit her at the party.

  Was I drugged?

  “I was… I was raped,” she blurted.

  Hanna expected Robin to recoil or maybe grow uncomfortable.

  She did neither.

  Robin remained calm as she produced a cigarette from her jean pocket and lit it. She offered one to Hanna, who declined.

  “Fucking prick. We should get you home, Hanna.”

  Hanna was surprised, and a little disappointed, by this response.

  She shook her head.

  “I don’t want to go home.”

  “People will be looking for you.”

  Did she not hear what I just said? I’ve been raped.

  “No, they won’t.”

  Robin rose to her feet.

  “Go home, Hanna. People care about you, people love you. Go home, tell them what happened. Don’t come back here.”

  Hanna watched as Robin flipped her hood up and started to walk away. It took her several seconds before she could process what the girl had just said.

  “People love me?” she shouted, her anger returning. Robin didn’t slow. “I tell you I’ve been raped, and you tell me that people love me? That I should just go home? What the fuck kind of advice is that?”

  She took three large steps forward and Robin spun around.

  The clenched jaw, the narrow eyes, the sheer volatility she saw in the girl’s face scared her.

  “Then don’t go home.”

  Hanna sighed.

  “What do I—”

  “Then don’t go home, and don’t sit on a bench and cry. Trust me, none of that shit works—didn’t for me. None of it will ever make you feel better… make you feel like you did before.”

  “Then what? What do I do?” Hanna asked desperately.

  Robin reached out and grabbed the safety pin holding her sliced shirt sleeve together.

  “Get even. That’s what the fuck you do, Hanna. You get even.”

  Chapter 36

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” Hanna said.

  “It’s a great idea,” Robin countered. “Look, you want to get back at that prick who raped you tonight?”

  Despite everything that had happened to her, that word, ‘raped’, made her cringe.

  “Of course, I—”

  The question had been rhetorical.

  “Then this is how we do it. There’s a beauty in the irony… no, don’t be scared. I do this by myself all the time. With your help, it’ll be twice as easy.”

  Hanna was still angry, but she wasn’t so blinded by her fury that she couldn’t recognize that what they were doing was dangerous. And illegal. But what was the alternative? Go home?

  Fuck that.

  Go to the cops? They’d call her parents. Then her mother would come home and, sure, she’d be consoling at first, but eventually, she’d be pissed.

  That was Lucy Whitmore’s way.

  “Good. Then you know what to do, right?”

  Hanna nodded. She looked down at the fake pistol in her hand and saw that it was shaking.

  Robin noticed this, too.

  “Relax, you’ll be fine. Just do exactly what I said.”

  Hanna nodded again. It bothered her that she felt a tingle of excitement in the pit of her stomach, but then she realized why it was there.

  It had to do with control.

  Along with her virginity, Brett had stolen her locus of control.

  This was her chance to get it back.

  Maybe Robin is on to something.

  “Okay, go on, get behind the dumpster,” Robin instructed.

  Hanna skirted toward the foul-smelling dumpster. With the gun in hand, she crouched behind it.

  Stay calm, Hanna.

  Three deep breaths later, she mustered the courage to peek around the side of the metal container.

  The girl had since removed her sweatshirt revealing a thin frame and small breasts that were thrust upward by a push-up bra. The white blouse on top had seen better days. Robin still sported the same jeans, but the way she moved in them, with a slight sway to her hips, made them look designer and not the bargain bin denim that they were.

  Hanna was surprised by how quickly things happened. First, two cars passed by Robin who stood at the mouth of the alley opening, hand on her hip. The third slowed. The fourth, a beat-up indigo blue Ford Taurus stopped right in front of the girl. Robin strode forward and while Hanna knew that she was speaking, she could only pick up bits and pieces of what was being sa
id.

  Her heart started to gallop when Robin leaned on the open passenger window and it nearly burst when she gestured to the alley in which Hanna hid. When Robin had first described her plan, Hanna had secretly hoped that every single car passed them by. Even if nothing happened, the plan itself, coupled with the fact that she’d agreed to it, had brought some semblance of control back to Hanna’s life.

  But when the car’s headlights went dark and a man got out of the driver’s seat, Hanna realized that this was actually happening.

  The John who followed Robin into the alley was short and squat with a T-shirt that didn’t quite cover the lower half of his belly. As he neared, Hanna got a better look at his balding head, his untrimmed mustache.

  Just leave… please, just leave… fuck.

  The man had no intention of leaving.

  Not until he got what he wanted.

  Hanna debated turning and running, leaving Robin here to fend for herself. After all, the girl had told her that she’d done this before, that it was easy, that it wasn’t really dangerous.

  The alley was dark, but not so dark that Hanna couldn’t see Robin’s face.

  And the scintilla of fear buried beneath a mask of courage.

  As planned, Robin guided the man towards the opposite side of the alley, just across from the dumpster, and pushed him up against the wall.

  “Right here?” the John’s voice cracked with the word, ‘here’.

  “Right here,” Robin confirmed.

  She dropped to her knees and immediately began unbuckling the man’s belt. He started to moan even before she got to the zipper, his eyes darting nervously about the alley, not focusing on anything in particular.

  The man’s tongue shot out and moistened the uneven mustache hairs that curled into his mouth. Feeling empowered, he reached for the back of Robin’s head, for her ponytail, but before his chubby fingers grabbed hold, she pulled back and looked up.

  “Wait, let me see the money first,” Robin said.

  The John was annoyed by this delay, but the prospect of having Robin’s hand or lips on his cock was so great that he fumbled with his wallet and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill without even mouthing a word of protest.

  “We agreed on forty,” Robin said.

  The man’s upper lip turned over.

  “You said twenty.” No crack this time.

  “For a hand job.” Robin leaned in close, rubbing her lips across the bulge in the man’s jeans. A sigh escaped him, and Hanna no longer felt excitement in her belly. All she felt was disgust. “Forty for a blowjob.”

  The plan worked perfectly. Once more the man turned his attention to his wallet, trying with shaking fingers to pull out the requisite bills. That’s when Hanna stood, strode forward, and raised the gun in her hand.

  “Twenty for a hand job, forty for a blowjob,” Hanna repeated, injecting as much strength into her voice as she could. “But it’ll be everything in your fucking wallet for being a goddamn pedophile creep.”

  Chapter 37

  Hanna’s aim was steady and true. Even Robin seemed surprised by this, judging by the expression on her face, but she wasn’t so taken aback that she didn’t complete her part of the scam. She removed all the cash from the John’s wallet and then threw the empty, worn piece of leather at his feet.

  The man was so confused that not only had he lost his erection, but Hanna was fairly certain that he hadn’t even noticed the gun yet. He’d noticed her, though, that much was clear, but not the gun. Hanna decided to change that.

  She took two steps forward, making sure that the gun fell directly into the weak orange light emitted by an ancient wall sconce.

  The man started to lick his upper lip again, but in fear this time and not arousal.

  “O-o-okay, o-okay,” the man stammered, “Take the money, okay? I-I-I don’t want any problems. I’m just going to pick up my wallet.”

  “Damn right we’re going to take your money,” Robin snapped.

  “I’m sorry, I just thought—I just—I’m sorry,” the man buckled his pants and slipped his now empty wallet into his back pocket.

  “Now run,” Hanna ordered, flicking the gun toward the man’s parked Taurus. “Run back to your car and get the fuck out of here. And if I ever—ever—see you again, I won’t be waving the gun. I’ll be firing it.”

  The man’s eyes went wide and then he did as Hanna bid. Given his proportions, however, running was not something he was accustomed to. He took three steps and then tripped, sprawling onto the asphalt.

  Both Robin and Hanna laughed as the man picked himself up and then limped to his car. The tires squealed and the vehicle shot off, bumping the curb loudly as it went. Hanna continued to laugh until she couldn’t catch her breath.

  “That was fucking gold,” Robin said as they backed into the alley. “Twenty for a hand job, forty for a blowjob, and everything in your fucking wallet for being a goddamn pedophile? Absolute gold.”

  Hanna took several deep breaths and looked closely at Robin. She was smiling and Hanna realized that this was the first time she’d seen the other girl smile.

  “How much did we make?” she asked, her eyes drifting to the cash in Robin’s hand.

  Robin quickly counted the bills.

  “Eighty-three bucks.”

  Hanna had nearly that much in her backpack, and access to hundreds more in her account, but for her, it wasn’t about the money. Robin on the other hand…

  “Not bad,” Hanna offered.

  “Not bad at all,” Robin concurred. “Surprised that fucker had this much.” She looked to the gun in Hanna’s hand. “You going to put that thing away?”

  Hanna turned it over in her palm. The power she’d felt when she’d aimed it at the John was something of the like she’d never felt before.

  And this was with a fake gun. Hanna couldn’t imagine what sort of surge she’d experience with a real one.

  Robin made two piles of cash and offered one to Hanna.

  “Here’s your take,” she said.

  Hanna shook her head.

  “Naw, you keep it.”

  “I ain’t no charity case,” Robin said, her tone hardening. “Take the money.”

  Knowing that Robin would be insulted if she refused a second time, Hanna grabbed the bills and shoved them into her pocket without even counting them.

  Robin did the same with her share and then pulled out a smoke. This time, Hanna asked for one and Robin obliged.

  She smoked too quickly and got a head buzz, but it wasn’t at all like at Brett’s party. That had been foul, nauseating, but this was somehow uplifting. When she was done, Hanna stamped the butt out with her runner.

  “You ready?” she asked.

  Robin looked at her curiously.

  “Ready for what?”

  “To do it again.” Hanna couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice. “You want to do it again, right?”

  Robin glanced down at the cheap Timex on her wrist.

  “Naw, it’s almost three. I think we’re good for tonight.”

  Hanna was surprised and disappointed by her friend’s reluctance.

  “Come on, one more time.” She squeezed the gun. “That was… that was amazing. One more.”

  Robin shook her head.

  “It’s too late, and I’m tired,” she said.

  The petulant child in Hanna, the one that her mother was previously only capable of bringing out of her, emerged.

  “Fine, I’ll do it by myself, then.”

  Robin’s arm shot out and she grabbed Hanna by the wrist. She squeezed so tightly that the gun almost slipped from her hand.

  “No, you won’t,” Robin said.

  Hanna struggled against the other girl’s grip, but Robin was too strong for her to break free.

  This reminded her of Robbie, the knife-wielding thug who wanted to do to her what Brett had done a few days later.

  “Promise you won’t do it by yourself, Hanna. Promise you’ll only do this with me
.”

  Hanna stared into Robin’s eyes. She wasn’t sure what the big deal was; this had been easy, and Robin said she did it by herself all the time. But it was clear that Robin wasn’t going to let go unless Hanna agreed.

  “Okay, fine,” she said. “But only if we do it again—together.”

  Robin held her stare for a few moments longer.

  “Yeah, but not tonight. It’s late. Go home, Hanna. And if tomorrow, or next week or next month, you still want to do it again? You know where to find me.”

  Hanna was disappointed but arguing wasn’t going to get her anywhere. That wasn’t how you dealt with someone like Robin.

  “But you’re right,” Robin said, breaking into a grin. “That was fun. And I hope we get to do it again.”

  “Me too.”

  Robin slipped her hoodie back on, jammed her hands into the center pocket, and started to walk away. Hanna quickly put the gun in her backpack then watched Robin go. The girl was halfway across the street when something occurred to her.

  “Wait, Robin?”

  The girl stopped and looked over her shoulder at Hanna.

  “Yeah?”

  “How the heck do I get home from here?”

  Robin laughed.

  “You’ve got forty-two bucks burning a hole in your pocket. Take a cab.”

  Chapter 38

  The first thing Hanna did when she got home was take a hot shower. Most of the euphoria that she’d felt after robbing the John had cleared her system, and she was hurting again. Only after washing off the day’s grime did she dare inspect her body.

  There was no bruising, no bite marks, no sign of what Brett had done to her. The only physical manifestation of the rape was the pale pink stream of blood mixed with water that ran down her inner thigh to the drain below. Seeing this trickle caused Hanna to suck in a sharp breath.

  She shut her eyes and let the water continue to flow over her. Her mind was filled with distorted images of Brett, sounds of him grunting, the pressure of him thrusting.

  Her first instinct was to vanquish the images by opening her eyes, but Hanna fought the urge.

  This is how they control you, she thought, remembering what Robin had told her. This is what they want—for you to be afraid.