How dare he desecrate the sacred act of love! How dare he! She’s filled with a boiling, righteous anger. I WON’T! she screams up at him. GO AWAY!
But Billy doesn’t go away, he just stands there, immobile, expectantly, a towering monolith.
And she knows what she has to do.
Slowly, she rises to her feet, until she’s staring Billy right in the eye. Funny, he seemed much taller before, she thinks. But I guess he’s not so big, after all. His mouth is half open in a dumb gape. His eyes are dull and glazed over.
You hurt me, she says, simply, as if she were explaining a difficult lesson to a child. You know that, don’t you? You’re not supposed to hurt people. It’s a very, very bad thing to do.
His eyes clear enough for her to see that he’s beginning to be scared of her. As well he should be, she thinks. He’s been very bad, and he knows it. He’s in big trouble.
I didn’t mean it, he whines, pathetically. Don’t hurt me.
But that’s exactly what she intends to do: hurt him, hurt him badly, make him experience the same kind of pain that he inflicted on her. He had been bad, he must be punished. Severely punished. Painfully punished.
Sensing her sudden power, Billy cringes before her. A red heat churns in her belly, fueled by thick waves of anger that boil inside her. Bolts of energy course through her veins, ripple her muscles. She is good, she is strong, and she will be merciless. She is the avenger. She throws back her head and howls. Her eyes shine.
DON’T HURT ME! he screams in panic. I’M SORRY! I WON’T DO IT AGAIN!
But she has already clenched her fist, and now she launches it on an inexorable course toward his face. He throws up his hands to protect himself, but she knows that his futile gesture will be ineffectual. She is omnipotent.
And, indeed, her fist slices through his hands, shredding his puny defenses. As if it were happening in slow motion, she watches the power of her unstoppable fist unravel his fat fingers, clearing the way to his disgusting face.
She savors the experience of her knuckles smashing into his mouth. I’ve never hit anyone before, she thinks. Why not? It feels so good, so deeply satisfying, so validating. It’s not like I haven’t known lots of people who have deserved it. I’ll have to do this more often.
But it feels different from what she expected. His face is as mushy as an old melon, and her fist sinks sickeningly into his rotten flesh. He moans. Pools of blood, sticky and red, ooze out of his skin and run between her fingers.
It feels good.
Sunshine? he asks, just like that, just like he’s going to ask her what time it is.
It’s a trick, she thinks. He’s trying to distract me. He’s going to beg for mercy.
It’s not going to do him any good.
No, she says simply, not even waiting to hear the question. No. Whatever the question is, the answer is no. She hits him again, with her left hand this time, and again she connects solidly with his face. And again, he moans in richly deserved pain.
Sunshine? he asks again. Sunshine?
No, she says again, as she continues to coolly administer a two-fisted pounding. She keeps expecting him to fall, or at least to retreat, but he holds his ground as she rains blows on his face with devastating accuracy. Under her relentless attack, his face becomes a bloody pulp, a grotesque, oozing mass that only vaguely resembles a human face.
Sunshine?
No.
And then, because there’s not much left of his face, and because it just seems like a good idea, she kicks him in the groin, as hard as she can. He doubles over and bellows in pain, a terrified and wounded animal.
Sunshine? he asks again, infuriatingly, through what’s left of his lips. Sunshine?
No, she says calmly, and kicks him again.
Sunshine? Sunshine?
2.4.4: Sturdivant
“Sunshine?”
She slowly starts to float to the surface. With intense disappointment she realizes that it was only a dream. It’s already beginning to fade, to lose some sharpness around its edges. But she doesn’t want it to end. It felt so good to be taking her revenge, paying Billy back for the enormous hurt he inflicted on her.
“No,” she murmurs absently. She swings at Billy again and again, investing everything she has in a few, final, satisfying punches. But he’s already fading like a Cheshire cat, escaping into the night.
And so, despite her best efforts to avoid it, Sunshine wakes up.
Her eyes flutter open. Nathan’s face drifts in and out of focus. He’s sitting on the bed, looking down at her with his warm, compassionate eyes.
What am I doing in a bed? she wonders. Why am I not on my futon? I must be in the guest room. But, why?
She turns her head toward the windows. The shades are drawn, but streaks of bright light are filtering into the room. It’s not morning, she thinks. What am I still doing in bed?
“Nathan?” She turns back to him groggily. “Nathan, what am I…” She props herself up on her elbows. The sudden movement makes her jaw throb with sharp pain. I’m hurt, she thinks, puzzled. I’m hurt.
Then it all floods back, and she sinks back down into the bed and covers her face with her hands. I was running and they trapped me and they chased me and they caught me and they… and they hurt me. They humiliated me. They raped me.
As she remembers, she feels the soreness radiating from between her legs, spreading to her belly, a dull ache that’s not as painful as the one in her jaw but which is somehow much more horrible.
And then I hit him, she thinks, confused. I hit him hard and often, and I enjoyed it, I really did enjoy it. Or was that just a dream? Maybe it was all a dream, maybe I imagined the whole thing. But something certainly happened, she realizes. The pain is only too real. Maybe I was in some kind of accident?
But then she sees Billy on top of her, grunting and sweating, and there’s no escape. She moans softly into her hands as Billy’s grotesque image refuses to fade.
If I don’t open my eyes, she thinks, he’ll never go away. So she slowly removes her hands from her face and opens her eyes. Nathan is still there, looking down at her. Does she see a trace of concern in his eyes? Has she caused Nathan to worry? What a terrible thing to do. How selfish. He has more important things to…
“Oh, Nathan,” she wails, and she starts to sob. “I’m sorry. I’m… I’m…”
“Rest, Sunshine,” Nathan says, consolingly. “You’re confused. You’ve been hurt.”
“But… but I shouldn’t have been out after dark,” Sunshine moans. “Jnana warned me not to. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“What happened to you wasn’t anyone’s fault, Sunshine. Certainly not yours. It happened. It’s over. Don’t punish yourself. Just rest.”
“Why am I in the guest room? How long have I been asleep?” If I can get my bearings, she thinks, maybe I can make better sense of all this.
“It’s afternoon. You fell asleep in the tub. We carried you here.”
It starts to come back, hazily.
She had wandered in a daze for what seemed like hours until she had come to a familiar road. She had followed the road home, walking slowly, staying concealed in the bushes, hiding her shame, even lying down in the tall grass several times so that she would not be spotted by passing cars.
Everyone was in an uproar when she had finally reached the ashram. They had all been searching frantically for her, scouring the countryside in teams, sick with worry. Some of them had even wanted to contact the police, but Nathan’s aversion to officialdom was a contraindication to that course of action.
She had asked for Nathan, over and over again, but he was out for the evening, delivering a lecture in Providence. She was numb with pain and fatigue. The well-intentioned ministrations of her brethren had only wearied her more, so she had retreated into the solitude of the bath.
But she had felt so debased that even a bath could not cleanse her. She kept washing herself, scrubbing her b
ody, especially between her legs, where they had so crudely violated her. But the shame would not wash away. She must have fallen asleep in the tub.
It’s a good thing that they were checking on me, Sunshine thinks. I might have drowned.
Maybe it would have been better that way.
“Why did they do that do me, Nathan?” Sunshine sobs. “I’ve never done anything to them.”
He reaches out to stroke her hair. At first, she shudders from his touch, but then it feels comforting, and she begins to relax.
“Don’t look for reasons, Sunshine. There are no reasons. It is not understanding you need, but acceptance.” His voice is soft, soothing. “And it is premature even for that. Right now, you need rest. You’ve been hurt. You must give your body time to heal itself.”
Acceptance.
Can I ever accept what they did to me? she wonders. It doesn’t seem likely. Can I ever forgive them? Can I ever love them? Her dream flashes into her mind, and again she wants to lash out at them.
“I feel such anger, Nathan,” she says, ashamed of such a terrible confession. “I want to hurt them like they hurt me. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t make it go away.”
“It isn’t wrong, Sunshine, it’s just there. Accept your anger. Don’t fight it. It will pass.”
“But it’s not good for me.” She’s already fading, drifting off back to sleep. “Anger destroys us. You’ve told us that.”
“That is true, in the long run,” Nathan says, his voice coming from a great distance. “And that’s why you must let it all out now. Purge yourself of it. It’s an open wound. It needs light and time to heal. It will pass.”
I wish I believed that, Sunshine thinks, as she fades back into a welcome oblivion. I don’t know if it will ever pass. I feel like I’ll carry it around with me for the rest of my life, a terrible burden, and it will gnaw at me, devouring me from the inside. It’s too big to deal with, too all-consuming to escape from. I’m stuck with it.
Her last thought as she floats away is that Billy has planted something in her far worse than his seed. He has planted a devastating anger, a horrible rage.
He has done something far worse than merely violating her body.
He has poisoned her soul.
2.4.5: Sturdivant
This time, she’s not running, and they’re not in a field.
She’s in the Federal Diner, of all places, she and Nathan and Chastity and Walker and Bhakti – but Bhakti isn’t wearing white, so he must still be Stevie.
And when she gets up to go to the bathroom, she’s surprised to see Billy and Eddie at the very next table. They’re talking to each other, and they ignore her, but an implicit threat radiates from them just the same. And she turns back to say something to her friends, to warn them, but Nathan winks at her. He’s obviously seen them, and he’s not concerned, so maybe she’s overreacting.
But while she’s on her way back from the restroom, Billy’s arm snakes out as she walks past him, and he grabs her wrist. Let me go! she squeals, but he just laughs, hideously.
She looks around for help, but no one seems to be interested. The waitress straightens up behind the counter, the other patrons continue their conversations. Even her friends seem to be oblivious to her plight.
Only Nathan seems to notice what’s happening, and he continues to smile his implacable smile. Is he trying to communicate some kind of lesson to her? Perhaps he’s reminding her that what’s happening is simply part of the illusion. Is this some kind of test, to see how well she can maintain her center under trying circumstances?
And then Billy is ripping at her clothes, and she feels that she could resist, but she doesn’t. Should she just let it happen? Would that be the enlightened thing to do? If she were truly enlightened, wouldn’t she radiate vibrations that would discourage this kind of thing? Maybe just the fact that this is happening to her at all is a measure of her spiritual shortcomings.
And then Billy sits her on the edge of the table, her legs dangling over the side, and she’s naked from the waist down, and she’s wearing only her white T-shirt. And he removes his jeans, and he forces her legs open as he pushes her down on the table.
Don’t do this! she yells, more angry than hurt. Don’t you know that you can’t get away with it? There are people in here, they won’t let you do this to me! How can you be so stupid?
But Billy just laughs scornfully. Nobody cares what happens to you, little girl, he says, mockingly. You think that all people are brothers and sisters, you believe that we’re all responsible for each other’s well-being. But look around you. Nobody cares about you. Nobody. Who do you think you’re fooling? You’re all alone, baby. It’s just me and you. That’s reality.
Nathan cares about me, she says, supremely confident. Nathan won’t let anything bad happen to me. Nathan will protect me.
Are you kidding? Billy laughs. That old fool? He’s just gonna sit there and grin his stupid grin. And then he’s going to tell you that this isn’t really bad, it’s just happening, it’s all part of the illusion. Isn’t that a neat trick? You’re the one who’s suffering, and he’s sitting there, all high and mighty, telling you that it’s not real. Well, let me ask you, baby, does this feel like an illusion to you?
And he drives roughly into her, entering her forcefully, ripping her apart with excruciating pain, laughing at her entreaties.
But then her hand closes around something hard and cold lying on the table, and she immediately knows what it is. She grabs it and waves it in his face. You leave me alone, she screams, or I’ll use this, I swear I will.
It seems to be unusually long for a table knife. Its sharp, steel tip gleams in the garish, artificial light. Its ragged edge makes it appear more like a hunting knife than an eating utensil.
You’re not going to use that thing on me, Billy says, smugly. You don’t believe in violence, remember? Nathan will be real disappointed in you if you stick that sucker into me. And I’ll bleed all over the place. Maybe even die. You don’t want to be responsible for that, do you? What about your karma, baby?
She glances at Nathan, and he’s staring right into her. She can’t quite get a fix on his expression, but she knows that Billy’s right, Nathan will definitely be disappointed in her if she uses the knife.
And she’s just about to drop it, to admit defeat, to give in to whatever ignominious fate awaits her, when Billy thrusts into her again. A jolt of pain racks her body. I’m not going to put up with this, she thinks. Nathan, I’m sorry, but I’m just not going to put up with this.
Not again.
And suddenly, she no longer feels like apologizing. Who does Nathan think he is to judge me? she thinks, hotly. He doesn’t know what I’m going through. What makes him so holy?
She turns back to Billy, fury rising within her like a hot brand. He sees the sudden change in her eyes, and he’s scared. He begs her not to, and she relishes the sensation of watching him squirm. She raises the knife with both hands, high over her head, and she brings it down squarely into his chest…
He screams and staggers backward. She pulls the knife out as he backs away. Blood spurts from a hole in his chest like a dark geyser.
Still, no one in the diner seems to have noticed anything untoward. The waitress busies herself making sandwiches, and the other patrons don’t even interrupt their conversations. Only Nathan takes any notice at all, and he’s frowning. It’s the first time she’s ever seen that kind of expression on his face.
What do you know! she screams at him. What gives you the right to judge me? Nathan merely cocks a smug eyebrow, as if to say: You’ll be sorry, Sunshine. You’re going to regret this.
I don’t care, she thinks, as her anger continues to mount. This has to be done. She jumps off the table and pursues Billy, who’s fumbling his way along the counter, moaning and clutching at his chest. She stabs him in the back. He screams again. It sounds like beautiful music. She withdraws the bloody knife just as he falls heavily to the floor.
; She looks quickly around the diner, just to be sure, but nobody has noticed anything. She’s completely anonymous. Invisible. She can do anything she wants to do. What a feeling of power. Nathan alone looks on, with detached interest, and she doesn’t even care about what he thinks anymore.
Billy lies face-down on the tile floor in a rapidly spreading pool of blood. He rolls over on his back, holding his hands up in a feeble attempt to ward off her blows. She stands over him, one foot on each side of his fat belly. Please, he begs, please. He even presses his hands together in mute supplication.
She laughs.
How can I cause him the most pain? she wonders. I don’t want him to die too quickly. She bends her knees into a crouch, then she springs as high as she can, her head nearly hitting the shiny aluminum ceiling. As she descends, she raises her legs so that they’re at right angles to her upper body, as if she’s sitting in the air. And she lands with incredible force, her bare buttocks digging into Billy’s gut. He screams again – or, rather, he gurgles, a fountain of blood spraying from his mouth.
Balancing on her knees, she straddles his chest, staring down into his pain-wracked face. He sat on me like this, she remembers, and he hit me as I lay there defenseless. Well, now the tables are turned. No more will this hideous creature have a chance to terrorize innocent women. She is the avenging angel. He will not escape her wrath. She will mete out her terrible, swift justice. He will be punished.
She raises the knife high over her head and plunges it into his chest, over and over again, a killing frenzy. But he refuses to die, he just keeps begging her to stop. And it’s impossible, but now he’s laughing, mocking her futile efforts. And Nathan is walking toward her, in slow motion. And she understands. She can’t kill Billy. He won’t die. His evil is eternal. The cruel, cosmic joke is on her.
No! she screams at Nathan as he draws near. When Nathan reaches her, he’ll force her to stop. Somehow, she has to finish Billy off before that happens.
She plunges the knife into Billy’s chest, twisting it deeper, carving him up. His chest is a scarlet pincushion. Die! she yells, like a madwoman. Die!
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