NORMAL

by Danielle Pearl

  I join the girls in the locker room, and while they're all either gathering their things or changing out of their uniform, I gather my courage. I meet Robin by the gym doors. He pulls me into his arms.

  "Hey, sweetheart. We win?" he asks before planting a kiss on my lips. I nod, then step back. "You okay?" he asks, eyes narrowing slightly.

  "Robin, can we talk a minute?"

  "Sure, darlin', let's talk in the car. We got a long drive." We were supposed to leave right from school. I know his bag is already in his trunk, but I never even packed. I have my jeep in the lot. He obviously didn't notice it.

  "We should just talk here," I murmur. God, I need to find my courage. My voice is weak and shaky, and Robin will just steamroll me if I don't seem strong. He raises his hand to touch my face, but I step back again.

  "Rory, what's goin' on?"

  I take a deep breath. "I can't go with you this weekend," I begin.

  "'Course you can, your daddy said it was fine," he replies.

  I shake my head. "I know, but I still can't go. Rob, I... I think we need some time apart. Some space."

  Robin glares at me. He says nothing for several moments. "Rory, what are you talkin' about? This isn't still about your arm, is it?" he asks, reaching for the now yellowing bruise on my forearm he put there no more than a few days earlier. I pull it away before he can touch me. "You're not still mad, are you? I said I was sorry, sweetheart, you know how much I love you."

  I shake my head again. "I know, Robin. It's not just that. It's... I just need some space, okay? Go to Gainesville, have a good time, and we'll talk when you get back, okay?"

  "No, darlin', not 'okay'. This sounds an awful lot like you breakin' up with me," he replies. There are tears in his eyes. I've seen them before. When he's feeling guilty about hurting me - pushing me around, not forcing himself on me. When he's apologizing and begging my forgiveness. But I've never seen him look this frightened, this... stricken. It almost undoes my resolve. But then I remember what will happen if I falter. The same thing that's been happening for months, just... forever. "Rory?" he breathes, desperate.

  Tears slide down my cheeks, and I brush them away quickly. "I'm so sorry," I whisper, and then before the despair in his eyes can confuse me any more, I turn and flee back to the girls locker room.

  The locker room is empty by now, everyone having gone home after the game. I close my eyes for a minute and try to regulate my breathing. That was even harder than I thought it would be. I think I expected him to argue. To yell. Not to cry. Not to look so... heartbroken. I get my bag out of my locker and walk to the back where the sinks and showers are. I toss my bag on the ground and turn on a sink to splash some cold water on my face.

  "Rory."

  Robin's voice is low and toneless. I grab a paper towel to dry my face and turn to look at him. I can't believe he's followed me into the girls locker room.

  "Robin, I-"

  He's on me before I even sense his movement. I'm shoved back into the wall, hard. I cry out as my back crashes against the cold, hard tile. Robin doesn't kiss me, instead, he holds my arms to my sides and starts sucking down my neck, licking and biting... hard.

  "Ow! Stop, Rob, please!" I beg.

  "You need space? From fuckin' me?!" he roars before crushing his mouth against mine.

  I turn my face away. "No, Robin, please stop!"

  "Stop what? Doin' what you want? My girl likes it rough, remember?"

  He grabs my ass with one hand and pinches so hard I know there will be a mark. His other hand pushes up under my top and does the same to my nipple, all the while his mouth moves over my skin, sucking and biting too damn hard. I cry out again in pain. I use the limited mobility of my arms to try and push him off. I bang my fists at his chest but can get no momentum and no matter how much I try to hit him, there's no potency to my punches.

  "Please, no! Robin! Don't do this! Not here!" I plead though desperate sobs.

  My tears are nearly blinding me and vaguely I remember that he likes it when I fight back, but I can't stop, I'm too scared. This isn't his usual foreplay. He's hurting me on purpose, not just to get me to comply. He digs his fingers into my hair at my nape and twists painfully, pulling my head back and forcing me to meet his gaze through the watery fog of my tears.

  He is glowering at me, looking at me with such contempt that I wonder why he wants to be with me at all.

  "You need space? You need time? From fuckin' me?! You are fuckin' mine! Do you understand me? You stupid bitch!" he snarls at me.

  He yanks my shirt up so my bra is exposed and with one hand he yanks the cups down and bites my breast. When I scream again, he shoves his forearm over of my mouth to muffle my cries.

  I can't believe this is happening. I thought it was bad before. I hated it. Hated being overpowered, being forced. Having him invade my body without my permission.

  But this... this is something different. He is making a point. A claim. He will never let me go. I am his to do with what he wants, whatever he wants, and right now, he wants to hurt me.

  He starts pawing under my skirt, but my panties are covered by my spankies, thanks to my cheerleading uniform. He rips roughly at them, scratching my skin in the process, but they're not as flimsy as panties, and he can't just tear them off.

  The sound of my muffled sobs fills the locker room, but we are utterly alone, and I know no one will come to my rescue.

  Robin curses viciously as he tries to drag my spankies down my thighs, but I twist and squirm to hinder his movements. He growls and removes his forearm from my face to dig in his jeans pocket for something, and I take advantage of having access to my own voice while I can.

  "Please Robin, please stop. I'm sorry, I'll come with you. Please! You're hurting me!"

  "Too. Fuckin'. Late," he grates through clenched teeth as he pulls his hand out of his pocket along with his house keys.

  He shoves them up my skirt and yanks my spankies and panties away from my hip, but not far enough, and as he roughly saws the key down through my clothing, he vertically cuts the flesh beside my right hip bone.

  I scream at the sharp pain of metal stabbing and tearing through my skin as he continues what he's doing, either not noticing or not caring that he's cutting me in the process. When the gash reaches the top of my thigh I know he's cut through top to bottom.

  Irritated by my incessant pleas, screams, and sobs, Robin shoves his enormous hand over my face, covering my entire nose and mouth, and I continue to cry and cry, but I can't breathe. He pushes my spankies and panties away, and they catch on my left thigh since he's only cut away on one side. He doesn't care. He hastily undoes his belt and fly with one hand and pushes his jeans and boxers down his thighs. Then, with that same arm, he lifts me from the ground and slams inside me, the force of his motion crashing me back into the wall once more.

  I cry out again, but he increases the pressure of his hand. If I thought I couldn't breathe before, well, now I can literally get no air. My eyes widen even more in panic.

  Robin hammers hard, so damn hard, in and out of me, again and again, all the while glaring into my eyes. His are filled with anger and hatred, but my eyes plead for mercy, for air.

  Somehow he gets the message. He doesn't stop fucking me. Not for a second. But he removes his hand and I gasp in precious oxygen.

  "Who the fuck do you belong to, Rory?!" he growls.

  "You!" I sob.

  Something flashes in his eyes. Victory, possession. He is in total control of me. I am completely in his hands, and he's reveling in it.

  Robin's hand moves slowly, completely out of synch with the motion of the rest of his body, which is slamming me hard and fast into the tile wall. His hand lands on my neck and something terrifying flashes in his eyes as his fingers close around my throat.

  "Rob-"

  He increases the pressure of his fingers, consequently choking off my desperate plea. I try to gasp for air, but he doesn't relent. My windpipe is completely closed and I am fr
ozen in fear. I couldn't scream now if I wanted to, and Robin just continues on and on, his eyes never leaving my terrified ones as my lungs burn, and I start to get dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

  "You. Are. Mine!" he bellows and increases the pace of his thrusts, if it's even possible, grunting loudly.

  Black spots appear behind my eyes and I start to feel nauseated. My eyelids droop, too heavy, and suddenly I can barely muster the strength to keep them open, and as my head pounds with throbbing pain, I realize what's about to happen.

  This is it.

  He's going to kill me.

  I'm not even sure that it wouldn't be for the best at this point. He'll never let me go, of that I have no doubt, and how could I doubt him when he's making his point so zealously? And the truth is, I'm now beyond certain that a lifetime with Robin is one I don't want to live. The thought of Cam is the only thing that keeps me hanging onto a shred of hope. That he won't go through with it. That I'll somehow make it through this.

  Vaguely I hear a roar of a groan that sounds strangely distant through the roar of blood muffling my ears, though somehow I still know it's Robin and he's still right here. On me. In me. Finally he stills inside me and expels panting breaths right into my face. My sight blurs and I can no longer keep my eyelids from falling closed.

  Finally, Robin's monstrous hand relaxes and instantly I gasp in giant gulps full of precious air. I wince as he pulls out of me, but I can barely register anything other than replacing my lost oxygen.

  Robin sighs as he steps back and grasps me by the waist. He makes to set me down, but my legs don't hold, and I slide unceremoniously to the cold concrete floor, shoulders heaving.

  "Look at me," he demands.

  Still wheezing, my face drenched in an ocean of tears, I force my eyes open and look up at him, terrified of what he might do now if I were to defy him now. He looms over me, powerful and inherently threatening, as he tucks himself back into his jeans and fastens his belt. I flinch unconsciously at the jingle of his buckle, the sound representing such sickening memories, none of which even remotely compare to this moment.

  "You brought that on yourself," Robin murmurs.

  I sit frozen, a pathetic pile on the bathroom floor, tears still gushing down my cheeks. My bare behind is ice cold on the dirty tile floor and my breasts are still exposed, but all my energy is devoted to breathing, and holding myself in a seated position, palms planted desperately on the floor.

  "I gotta get goin'... You get this weekend, but only 'cause I'm so damn mad I can't even fuckin' look at you right now. I will see you Sunday, Rory," he spits, "and then you'll remember this the next time you think you want fuckin' space from me," he mutters bitterly.

  Robin turns, and I think he's about to leave, but then he turns back and crouches down so we are eye to eye. I flinch when he reaches out to tuck my hair behind my ear. He adjusts the cups of my bra so that they are back in place, then gently takes hold of the hem of my top, pulling it back down before fixing my skirt. I have no underwear to speak of.

  "You know why I had to do that, right?" he murmurs softly.

  I don't know what to say, and like I'm in a trance, I just nod.

  "You know I love you, sweetheart, right?"

  I nod again.

  Robin presses a kiss softly to my cheek, and with that, he turns and leaves. I count the sound of his footsteps on the concrete floor as he walks away. Thirty steps. The locker room door slams.

  I'm stunned. I sit there, on the bathroom floor, in wonder that I'm even still alive. Part of me still wishes I wasn't.

  ****

  Time passes quickly... and also slowly.

  It's hours before I pry myself off of the floor. I can see the sky has darkened, and I worry someone may come through to clean. I don't dare look in the mirror. Instead, I return to my locker, and pull out a spare pair of jeans and a tee shirt. I stuff my uniform into my bag and, in a daze, stagger out of the school. I fear that Robin is waiting in the dark somewhere, but rationally I know that he must have been in Gainesville for hours by now.

  My parents are down at my grandmother's, so I could go home and no one would know I didn't go with Robin until Sunday, if at all, but the truth is I don't want to be alone. I drive in a daze and reach my house before I even realize I've left the parking lot. I stare at Cam's empty driveway. I know his mother will be at the hospital until late tomorrow morning. Cam must be out, too. I go around back to his back porch and try the handle. It's locked. I pull out the key that Cam's mom had given me years ago and let myself in. I make my way to Cam's room and close the door. Only then, do I allow myself to look in the mirror.

  Not as bad as I thought.

  There are stains on the front of my jeans from where blood has seeped through the denim thanks to Robin's creative use of his house key. Damn, I should've cleaned that right away.

  There is already bruising on my neck and wrists, which means they'll be real bad come morning. There's also a tiny football shaped indent in my neck from my necklace. I rip it from my neck and throw it across the room. I never want to lay eyes on it again.

  My back hurts so much, and I'm thankful I can't see it. My face is a mess. My cheeks are streaked with black from mascara filled tears, there's pink staining around my swollen mouth from Robin's crushing kisses. There are hickies on my neck and shoulder, as well as bite marks. I can still see the perfect indent of Robin's teeth in two places.

  And a burning pain radiates from between my legs. It's not unfamiliar to me, but it's more intense than ever before.

  I take a deep breath, and slowly, so as to aggravate these injuries as little as possible, pull my top over my head. I undo my jeans and carefully tug them off before kicking off my sneakers and socks. I am naked but for my bra, but even through the lace, I can see the swelling and bite mark on my right breast.

  And my hip is still bleeding. I don't think it's so deep that it'd need stitches, but even so, I know where Michelle, Cam's mom, keeps her butterfly bandages. They'll have to do.

  I remove my bra and let it fall to the floor. I am thoroughly disgusted with myself. I can't look at myself for one more second. I grab Cam's bathrobe off the hook behind his door and make my way to his bathroom.

  I turn on the shower and close my eyes. I wait until the bathroom has filled with steam so I can't see my reflection in the mirror, and only then do I remove the bathrobe again. I take care in the shower, letting the nearly scalding water wash away the remnants of Robin Forbes. I can still feel him everywhere. I vow to myself that he will not touch me again.

  Ever.

  I scrub despite the bruising and the soreness, but no matter how hard I scrub, his marks are still there. I wear the events of today like tattoos, and though I know at least most of my injuries will eventually heal, I wonder what will happen to the marks no one can see. If my nightmares are any indication, they will not get better with time, no, they will just fester and rot until they haunt my waking hours like my nightmares do my sleep.

  Finally I get out and towel off. I clean the cut from Robin's house key. I was right, it doesn't need stitches, but it is pretty deep. It's still bleeding. I clean it again with antibacterial soap and apply bacitracin. I retrieve the butterfly bandages from the top shelf of the linen closet and it takes six of them to close the wound. Then I cover the whole thing with gauze and tape it down just in case it decides to bleed some more.

  I wrap myself in a towel, and, still damp, I put on one of Cam's old tee shirts and boxers, and with my hair still sopping wet, I grab my cell phone and climb into his bed.

  Robin is an hour and a half away. I also know he has to be up at six in the morning and he can't be late to the program. He can't come after me again tonight no matter what. In fact, with the pre-training dinner on Saturday night, the absolute earliest he can leave is Sunday morning.

  There's a storm coming Sunday too. It's not supposed to be too bad, but it has been all over the news. But my storm - the destructive torrent that is Robin Forbes -
is done.

  I text him.

  We are over.

  Nothing else. There's nothing else left to say.

  I consider texting Cam that I'm here and staying over, but I don't want him to rush home for me. And I know if text him he'll do just that, even though he wouldn't know anything had happened. I don't want to burden him. I feel like I'm a weight on his shoulders. I love him in ways I could never love Robin. Unconditionally. Of course, Cam could never possess any conditions that would make him unlovable.

  I wonder if he's out with the guys or if he's with a girl. Suddenly I feel that pang of jealousy that's lately become somewhat familiar. I know it isn't fair. Until two minutes ago I had a boyfriend. But, God, I haven't been able to stop noticing things about Cam that hadn't caught my attention before. At least not the way they do now. Like the lines of the muscles in his back. The deep cut V that disappears below his waistline.

  His scent.

  What used to just make me feel comfort and security, now also ignites something else. Something unfamiliar.

  I close my eyes with thoughts of Cam, and somehow Robin and the terrifying events of tonight are buried somewhere deep within my psyche.

  ****

  "Rory girl?" Cam whispers.

  I blink my eyes open and turn.

  "Is it okay that I'm here?"

  "Don't ask stupid questions," he murmurs, and even though it's too dark to really see, I know he's rolled his eyes.

  Cam kicks off his shoes and pulls his flannel pajama pants out of his drawer. I hold my breath as he removes his shirt. Even in just the moonlight, I can see the definition of muscle and sinew in his chest and abdomen. And his strong arms. I need them tonight.

  He removes his belt, and before he removes his jeans, he lifts his head to look at me.

  "Uh, Ror?"

  "Yeah?" My whisper is breathy, a stranger's voice.

  "You gonna turn around or should I change in the bathroom?" he asks with a chuckle.