Intended for Harm

by C. S. Lakin

  When she nodded, Shane let out a triumphant laugh. Dinah frowned. “But I can’t be gone long. I have a lot of homework to do. And I have to help out with Ben.”

  “No problem. Come on—my ride’s over here.”

  She let him take her arm and lead her to his car. He opened the door for her, then hopped in, turned on the engine.

  “Hey, how ’bout one for the road?”

  Before she had a chance to ask what he meant, his lips were on hers, pressing hard, his tongue working to open her mouth.

  Dinah squirmed out of his awkward embrace, his arm flung partly over her shoulder in the confines of the front seat.

  “Shane!” Dinah smoothed out her blouse, her hair.

  He flopped back against the driver seat, narrowed his eyes. “Okay, fine,” he said, staring ahead, checking traffic and pulling out from the curb.

  They drove in silence, but when Shane turned onto Ventura and headed east, Dinah said, “You’re going the wrong way.”

  Shane grunted, stared straight ahead. “I’ve got a better place. Something I want to show you.”

  Dinah’s gut twisted. Suddenly she felt claustrophobic in his car with the aroma of leather seats, the low ceiling. “Shane, let’s just forget this. Just take me home, okay?”

  “Soon. It’s not far.”

  Dinah clenched her teeth, thought about flinging open the door the next time he stopped and jumping out. But it seemed such a silly thing to consider. Silly and dangerous. She should give Shane a chance, maybe try to talk to him, get him to see it wasn’t going to work, that he should just quit trying to impress her. Reason with him.

  He turned onto Woodcliff, headed up into the hills south of the boulevard. When he started taking the curves a little too fast, the tires screeching beneath her, she gripped the dash.

  “Shane, slow down, please.”

  He didn’t listen, just kept gunning ahead until he got to the stop sign at Mulholland. Dinah forced herself to slow her breathing. She thought about all the crazy turns up on the ridge, the miles of road that led her farther from her home. This was insane; she knew it now. She had to get out.

  She reached for the door handle while Shane waited for the cross traffic to pass. He shot her a stern look, pressed the auto lock that blocked her attempt to open the door. She caught the wild, fierce look on his face. Now she was scared.

  “Shane, this isn’t funny. If I’m not home soon, my dad will start worrying.”

  Under his breath he said, “This won’t take long. Trust me.”

  Fear ripped through every limb in Dinah’s body, making her weak all over. She started trembling and her hands shook uncontrollably. As he pulled onto Mulholland and sped east, she thought about grabbing the wheel, forcing the car into the hillside, but at the speed he was going they might both get killed.

  Twilight darkened the road, and by the time Shane swerved onto a narrow dirt driveway leading to a barren, overgrown bluff, she could barely see anything in front of the car. When he cut the engine lights, the spattering of city lights appeared below and a long snaking string of headlights on the freeway.

  Terror filled Dinah, stole away her ability to speak. She sat unmoving, stiff and shaking, as Shane turned off the car, pocketed the keys, threw open his door and got out. She startled when he flung open her door and yanked her out by her hair.

  Dinah screamed.

  Shane clamped a hand over her mouth and she felt something cold alongside her cheek. She could barely make out her surroundings, but Shane’s feverish expression bore down on her, his intentions clear.

  He blew hot breath on her face. “I’m tired of your little flirty games, the way you tease me, flaunting that body in my face, ignoring me when I talk to you. How dare you?”

  In a sudden jerk, he grabbed the front of her cotton blouse and ripped it from the neck down to her waist. All Dinah could do was gasp, her heart banging against her throat, and feeling as if she would throw up. She tried to bite his hand, still pressed hard against her mouth, but couldn’t sink her teeth into flesh.

  Shane laughed and the bitter angry tone made Dinah squirm even more.

  “You better stop all that fussing.” He brought his other hand around and Dinah now realized what he’d held against her cheek—a knife!

  “It’d be a shame if that beautiful face of yours ended up with some ugly scars, now, wouldn’t it?”

  Words exploded from her throat, as if a dam had burst. “Why are you doing this? You’re crazy! I’ve never done anything—”

  “Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? You’ve never done anything, not for me, not given me what I’ve wanted. But we’ll fix that now, won’t we?” He put the knife up against her throat and Dinah swallowed, her teeth chattering in the cold April night, chattering so hard she thought they’d all break into pieces and fall out of her mouth.

  Dinah watched in horror as Shane ripped her blouse completely and tore off a long strip of fabric. He stuffed the piece into her mouth and tied the ends behind the back of her head, all the while her eyes riveted on the knife he kept before her, knowing that even if she screamed and kept screaming, they were far away from the road, from the solitary houses tucked into the hillside, and no one on earth could hear her.

  Her hand went to her throat, to the gold chain with the small cross that had once been Rachel’s, her mother’s. Hot tears streamed down her face as she closed her eyes, not wanting to watch as Shane unzipped his pants and kicked them off, then reached for the buttons on her jeans.

  When he laughed, she opened her eyes again. He had the small cross resting in the palm of his hand, jiggling it around. “So . . . what? You think this will save you? Is this why you’ve been slighting me—because you’ve gone and gotten all religious?”

  “Let go of that!”

  Shane only laughed harder, yanked on the cross and broke the chain, pulling it from her neck and sticking it in his shirt pocket, his shirt now hanging down over his bare legs and Dinah wishing she would just faint or die, knowing absolutely and without any hope for reprieve of what was now to come.

  He raised the knife, this time against the soft hollow of her throat, as darkness descended and the world turned black. “Maybe if you’re a good little girl, and you do exactly what I ask, you’ll get your trinket back.”

  He kicked her hard in the knee and her legs buckled, weak as they already were and unable to support her. She fell to the ground and Shane grabbed her again by the hair, somehow still holding the knife with that same hand, her thick long hair that he was using as a leash. He raked the other hand through it, digging so hard into her scalp she cried out through the cloth binding her mouth. “I think it was your gorgeous long hair that did me in. So soft and inviting, I just had to touch it . . .”

  He put his face in her hair, breathed deep and moaned. Dinah pulled back but then went limp as the point of the knife pushed through her skin, sharp pain searing her throat.

  He forced her to look up at him by tugging her hair down. Her head stood even with his waist and her knees ached from the hard ground beneath them. “Since you’re in such a perfect position, why don’t we have you start here . . .”

  Keeping the knife against her throat, Shane eased out of his boxer shorts, pushed his hot flesh against her face, making Dinah gag from the realization of what he expected her to do. Maybe it would be better to die, let him slit her throat. She would not do this, clamped her mouth shut, bit her tongue and groaned in agony. She waited for the swift slice of the knife ending her life as she kicked at him with everything she had.

  But instead of the sharp entrance of metal, a blow thwacked the side of her head and she fell over, Shane spewing an eruption of curse words and striking her over and over until, grateful and relieved, she blacked out, swallowed by the inky depths of night.

  Levi looked at his watch. “Come on, Simon. Time to go.”

  Simon glanced over at Dinah, sitting cuddled up against Levi on the back stoop, under the porch floodlight. Even
from where he stood, he could see the green-blue bruises on her face and neck. Her eyes looked sunken in her head, making Simon wonder if she was still taking those downers to help her sleep. When Levi had called him late last Tuesday night, he could tell from his brother’s crazed voice he had to risk going home, couldn’t fathom just what had gotten Levi in such a fury. It only took a brief look at Dinah to understand. And Levi’s one word: “Shane.”

  Simon had no idea whether their father was just gullible or really didn’t want to know the truth, but he swallowed Dinah’s story about falling into a ravine while out hiking with a friend after school. By the time their dad had come home—working a late swing shift and dealing with inventory issues, Dinah’d already had a long hot bath, at Levi’s insistence, and was spacey from the drugs he’d given her to calm her down. Shane had dumped her off at the back gate like a bag of trash, then sped off, Dinah barely conscious when Levi found her. Seeing her like that, battered and shaken—not to mention her hair, the way she had hacked at it in some mad fit, cutting it all off above her shoulders in a choppy ragged mess—filled Simon with rage. Why she did that, Simon didn’t know. But one thing he did know—no one, not even someone he considered a friend, was going to get away with raping his baby sister.

  “You sure you know where to go?”

  Levi nodded. “Dinah drew it out for me.”

  Simon thought how Shane had been gone all week, maybe avoiding him. No doubt avoiding him. Then he just showed up last night, acting for all the world like everything was cool, offering Simon some blow, a joint, maybe hoping Dinah kept it to herself, too embarrassed or ashamed or maybe even scared to tell anyone. From what Levi had told him, he’d had to pry it out of her, that it was clear Shane had threatened her. Levi and he both had to convinced her to call the bastard, and she fought them, saying no way, she couldn’t bear hearing his voice, but she finally gave in when she realized they planned to sort Shane out. Payback time. And Levi held her hand the whole time, while she asked for her cross back, saying if he didn’t give it back she’d call the police, report him, no matter how much he threatened her, trying to keep her voice even and unemotional. It was Levi’s idea to have her suggest they meet back on Mulholland, giving Shane a false sense of safety and maybe even setting his imagination loose on how he could go a second round with Dinah, up there, away from the eyes of all the world, if she wanted to be so stupid as to meet him up there.

  Dinah had lied, said she had her driver’s license although she was still only fifteen, but Shane didn’t know that. He had no clue how old she was, never asked. So she told him she’d be driving up there in the old Honda, her mother’s old car, and that he’d better have that necklace when she got there. When she hung up, she broke down, bawled her eyes out, and Levi kept his arm around her, pulled her head against his chest, and they sat there, all of them, late into the night last night, just listening to music in Levi’s room, not saying anything, the room so full of things that could be said but didn’t need to be voiced.

  Levi stood, his hand on Dinah’s shoulder. “You gonna be okay?” he asked her.

  “Yeah,” she breathed out. “Just beat the crap out of him.”

  Levi smiled. “My pleasure.” He nodded at Simon and they headed out the back door, Joey and Ben playing with Legos on the living room rug, their dad not coming home for a couple more hours.

  He thought about Joey as they got into the Honda, Simon driving and Levi tapping his foot hard against the dash, his knees up against his chest, smoking a cigarette. How they had been talking in Dinah’s room that fateful night, Levi telling Simon what had happened while Dinah sat there, hunched over on her bed, making little pathetic noises of pain and shock. And that little snitch, Joey, standing up against the door, listening to everything they said, although Simon doubted the dreamer understood any of it, being only ten. Simon almost knocked him down, throwing open the door to go get a soda, Joey standing right there, obviously eavesdropping.

  Simon drove in silence, Levi giving him instructions to turn here and there, and when they got to the dirt driveway, he paused, looked at Levi. “Let me do the talking, okay?”

  Levi glared back with daggers for eyes. “What talking?”

  Simon grunted. Okay, he had a point. Levi’s rage filled the car—Simon could feel it like molten lava rising and filling the space, seeping out the windows. Simon kept the brights on, navigating slowly, easing the Honda up to the bumper of Shane’s dark car, parked there near the overlook, Shane nowhere in sight.

  “Maybe he’s hiding, waiting to make sure it’s Dinah. He’s not a fool,” Simon said.

  “Then we’ll sit him out. At some point he’ll come over. He can’t resist.”

  Simon nodded, aching for a smoke but needing to focus, keep his hands free. Levi brought along two pairs of gloves, their dad’s cloth work gloves that had the Builder’s Emporium logo on them. Just in case they had to touch his car, not wanting Shane to be able to blame this on them, what they planned to do to him, which was leave him unconscious and damaged on the dirt, Simon chuckling imagining some coyote or mountain lion considering him for dinner.

  Simon fingered the brass knuckles in his pants pocket, the ones he’d picked up at the valley flea market back last year, thinking they’d come in handy someday. He smirked; today was “some” day. He slipped them on his right hand and Levi looked over, smiled.

  “Nice, bro,” he said.

  The driver’s door suddenly opened. Simon jumped out and found himself face-to-face with Shane, the look on his face telling him he wasn’t surprised. But Simon had a surprise, and without hesitation, he belted Shane hard against the side of his head and sent him reeling.

  Levi rushed out the car and lunged for Shane, fists pummeling, while Simon dodged his brother’s swings and sank a few more blows into Shane’s pretty-boy face, then kicked him hard in the groin, forcing him to the ground.

  As they beat on him, Levi cussing him out and screaming at him, Simon recalled the way he’d felt that day when he pushed Joey off the roof, the adrenaline speeding through his veins, his heart pounding in fury. He relived it anew, this thrill, of giving someone what they deserved, of vengeance and justice being served. It filled him with a heady rush, an infusion of power, Shane’s cries and groans a fitting match to what Dinah must have uttered on this godforsaken bluff as Shane violated and beat her. His friend, his roommate. How dare he?

  Levi stepped back, panting hard, and Simon assessed the damage—Shane lying on the dirt, his face a pulpy mess, struggling to breathe through a broken nose, the whole ridge of his nose collapsed in a lumpy landscape of blood and flesh. Simon smiled, put the brass knuckles in his pocket, felt gratified. They’d done what they came to do, and Simon doubted Shane would ever threaten Dinah—or any other girl—again. Mostly—Simon laughed—because his mug would now be so ugly, girls would gag when they saw him coming. Fitting.

  But when Simon looked at Levi’s face, he could tell his brother wasn’t finished, only more heated up than ever. Before he could say something, reach over and pull back on Levi’s arm, Levi took a big rock, bigger than his hand, and smashed it down on Shane’s forehead, again and again, each blow more forceful than the previous one.

  “Levi, enough!”

  Levi’s voice rumbled like a train tearing through a tunnel. “No! It’s not enough. He has to pay for what he did!”

  Simon finally got hold of Levi’s swinging arm, pulled it down. “He has paid! Drop it, Levi, and let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Levi stopped, knelt down, stared at Shane’s head—what was left of it.

  He reached out a shaky hand. Simon watched him feel Shane’s neck for a pulse, lean close to his face, Shane’s open mouth. “Si . . . he’s not breathing.” He muttered a few swear words. “I mean it, Simon. I . . . I think he’s dead.”

  Simon shook his head. “No way. You can’t just kill someone like that. Maybe he’s just unconscious.”

  Levi backed away, fear full-blown in his
face. “You check him. He’s dead.”

  Simon approached warily, a sense of doom and horror creeping up his neck, seeking to strangle him. It didn’t take him long to agree with Levi’s grim assessment.

  “Simon, w-we can’t leave him here l-like this. S-s-someone will know we d-did it.” Levi’s voice rose in hysteria.

  “Okay, calm down! Let me think.” He scanned the bluff in the dark. “Dinah could vouch for us, be our alibi. No one knew Shane raped her—no one but us, so they wouldn’t connect her to this. Or us.”

  “B-but someone might have s-s-seen our car turn in here. What about the t-t-tire marks?”

  “Levi, it was dark. No one would have seen our car. And if they don’t have a suspect, they won’t know what tires to check. He deals drugs—anyone could have been out for his hide. No one would suspect us.”

  Levi nearly squealed with panic. “Simon, we have to do something.”

  Simon blew out a breath, itching to leave, quickly, before someone happened upon them or they were gone too long and their dad would come home, ask where Levi was—and the car!

  “Okay, help me get him in his car.” They bent down and hefted Shane. “Don’t let him drag, or someone will see the drag marks.”

  “He w-weighs a ton.”

  “Just do it, Levi!”

  With all the strength he could muster, Simon carried Shane’s body over to his car. He dropped the body, opened the door. “Levi, go get the gloves. I don’t want our fingerprints on anything.” While Levi went for the gloves, Simon used his sleeve to wipe his prints off the door handle. He patted Shane’s pockets, found what he was looking for. Dinah’s necklace.

  After putting on the gloves, they pushed and pulled, Levi climbing into the passenger seat and yanking on Shane until they finally got him behind the wheel. Simon found the car keys on the floorboard, started the engine. The plan was perfect, since Shane’s car faced the edge of the bluff, and there was a slight downhill slope.