Her saying this put me back to that first time with him in that parking lot. Even approaching me he’d been different. He walked straight up to me and said, “You looking for something?” Then he’d laughed and said, “My car’s over there.” And when I didn’t immediately follow, he took my arm. Said, “Let’s go, honey.” Already, he had me thinking it’d be easier this way. That always running the game had begun tiring me, and so why not let him do it?
Eight
I spent that night back in their daughter’s room. I thought I’d be the one to leave. That I’d leave the next morning. Make way for whoever came next. I never thought she’d leave but that’s what happened. She actually went and did it. And I’d slept through it. So now I figured I had to get out and fast. Had to hope he wouldn’t connect her leaving to me.
I didn’t have much money. The same few hundred he’d given me before all this started. I considered rummaging through things, trying to find more. I thought I shouldn’t go back to my parents’ house. That there was a chance he’d come looking. Four hundred dollars would get me just about nowhere.
I guessed there’d be a little window. That she hadn’t been planning to leave yet and so he wouldn’t be back right away. I called a cab and went home. I was surprised at how easy it was. I couldn’t shake the worry, though, even when I’d showered and was finally dressed in my own jeans and shirt. When I was sitting on the couch in my parents’ living room, drinking their booze and not his, even then I kept expecting someone to stop me.
*
I stayed pretty much in the house. Just went out to shop for food, things like that. My nerves settled pretty soon, and good thing because the money was running low. I actually thought about getting my old job back. I really did, for a minute or so, before I decided I needed to get some cash in before I could consider that sort of thing.
I realize going back to the parking lot does not seem like the best thing or the smartest. But I’d begun to feel easy. I thought that because I was out of his house that’d be the end of it. That he couldn’t reach me, wouldn’t bother. I even thought I could go back to doing him in his car. That it’d make sense because he wanted more and so paid more. I not only thought all this stuff, I came to believe it.
So I began working the commuters again. And it seemed I was right because I didn’t see any sign of him. The old regulars acted glad to see me and so I upped my rate a little. Began making more for less off these guys. Began to appreciate them again, and then began to get bored.
One evening, I saw someone new on the platform. He craned his neck like he was looking for his wife picking him up. I’d all but pictured the station wagon and the dog in the back when he began heading my way.
Coming up to me he said, “I hear you’re worth it.”
I was thinking, this isn’t how they usually talk. I said, “That depends. What is it you’re wanting?”
He said, “Let’s talk in my car.”
It was already dark and a pretty cold night, so this seemed like a good idea, or at least not a bad one. We crossed the lot, all the way to the other end. His was the only car left that far over, a four-door green sedan. One look and I knew. It was that kind of car.
He had hold of my arm.
I said, “Hey, look, I don’t think so. Not tonight.”
Who was I kidding?
I could see his partner in the backseat waiting. He was the one who shoved the door open. Then the one behind me was pushing and this one was yanking, and then he cuffed me. Looped one end through one of those metal door handle things, the kind cabs sometimes have. I noticed because my head hit it, though even before that I was dazed. So much so it took me a bit to realize where I’d wound up. It took feeling hands in my hair, fingers running through it, and then I turned my head in his lap, could feel the other one still behind me and pushing.
I had one knee on the seat, curled up under me, the other on the floor. And the guy behind me wasn’t pushing anymore, but pulling instead. Pulling at my clothes until he had everything off me but my shirt.
The other guy was too busy with his own clothes to bother with mine. He’d spent these few moments getting his dick out and into my mouth. He didn’t say a word, just held me against his lap in a way that hurt my neck. And with my head turned this way it was hard to do what he wanted, hard to take him.
The other one was the talker. He said, “I heard you like it in the ass. Am I right?” he said. And he was nudging me there, pulling me apart with his hands and stroking me. “Guess so,” he said, laughing. I could feel how slippery I was and then felt his dick rubbing me.
When he put it in, it hurt because he stayed slow about it, kept right at that place where the pain stays bad because you can’t ease up and you can’t ease up because of the pain. I knew he was staying there on purpose. Normally I guess I would’ve chewed on something but the other guy in my mouth made that not a good option and so finally I couldn’t hold still for it.
I jerked, my whole body did. And the way I moved my head and my mouth brought the one guy off, but I guess he wasn’t ready because he pulled his dick away fast and was cursing me. I don’t know, maybe I hurt him. I could tell he wanted out of the car. But so did I.
I was still trying to swallow him. And the guy behind me was making this harder. He had his hand on my neck and was pressing. Pressing me into the other one’s thigh. And then, still staying in that same place in my ass, he started dicking around. Moving in and out and so I was swallowing more and more until I pulled my arms down. Did this so the cuffs would eat into my wrists and it helped, it got me quieter.
He got quieter too. Quiet in a way that made me figure he’d forgotten me and remembered himself. When I felt him move the rest of the way in, that’s when I nearly cried. From the relief of it. I let up on my arms and sank into the other one’s lap, wanted his hands in my hair again.
The one behind me, he’d put his hands underneath me. Was almost holding me. He had his hand on my stomach and I felt myself rocking back into him. Could feel his other hand between my legs, his fingers playing me.
He kept at this pretty long and so I could stay lost in the movements of his hands. But then he came and once that happened he pulled out quick like the other one had. Told him to unlock me. The guy couldn’t wait to, he did it fast. Was already on his way out of the car and that left just me and the talker.
He cuffed me again, this time with my hands behind my back. “You’re pretty,” he said, and he unbuttoned my shirt, unhooked my bra, and for a while he just looked. Then he put two fingers to my lips, forced them into my mouth. He traced down my chin and my throat, my breasts. First one, then the other.
“All of you’s pretty,” he said, opening my legs. He seemed back to looking but then he stroked me and so now we both knew I was wet. “So you haven’t had enough yet.”
He said this putting his fingers into me, fucking me a little but then stopping. “Don’t worry,” he said, “you’ll get plenty.”
Then he was laughing again and I was back to pulling at the cuffs so they cut my wrists. And after some more of this laughing and looking he said, “Let’s see. We’ve read you your rights.”
I nodded because what did it matter?
“And, smart girl like you, you understand them.”
I nodded again.
“All right then,” he said. “Not much else to do.” He opened the door, which he’d never quite closed. Got out and then leaned back in. He found my bag somewhere on the floor, and after a glance inside he threw it into the front seat. Then he picked my clothes off the floor and tossed them my way. Said, “Here, get yourself dressed.” And then he was laughing again.
The two of them got in front. He did the driving. I just sat there. Leaned back hard against my arms because except for my wrists it didn’t hurt to do this. And besides, the hurting wasn’t so bad and leaning forward left me bumping around.
I braced myself with my feet, but without my shoes I didn’t like how the floor felt – gritty a
nd sticky in places and hot from the heater. The whole car felt this way, the seat against my skin felt sweaty and I wanted them to open a window. Still, the worst thing was knowing the drive wouldn’t last long. That the police station wasn’t more than a few blocks away.
Sure enough we got there soon. The quiet guy started in before the other one turned off the engine. Me, obviously I had to wait. He came around and opened the door, told me to get out. The asphalt was cold and I shifted my feet back and forth and couldn’t help shivering. He took his coat off and put it around my shoulders. He didn’t button it, though. He fished around the car until he found my clothes and my shoes again. Rolled all of it together and tucked the bundle under his arm with my bag. Then I felt his hand on my neck, steering me.
It wasn’t one of those bustling station houses, just a small-town one. There weren’t more than two or three cops there, them and a desk sergeant who sat at an actual desk, a small one, not some big embankment. He called my escort “Pete.” Said, “What you got there, Pete?”
Pete said, “Just what it looks like.”
You might think with less people around it’d be easier, standing there the way I was, but it made it worse because it meant the ones who were there looked and kept looking. Had nothing else to move on to and so lingered.
And it meant a man did the searching and him being older and embarrassed about it only made it harder. I would’ve rather Pete had done it, though at least this one got my skirt back. He let me put it on, and my shoes and my stockings, and let me button my shirt. I never did get my underwear back.
I was the only girl inside. And there were just two men in the adjoining cell, too drunk to notice me much after a small fanfare. I sat on the bench – the one that goes around the edge in that kind of cell, most of the way around anyway. I wanted to pace but stopped myself because of how it would look. And how it would feel, too. It’d get me worked up, only remind me more where I was.
Sitting, I could close my eyes and forget things – almost not be here or anywhere.
I wanted a cigarette. I had for a long time. But I knew it’d take me quite a while before I could manage asking for favors. I told myself I’d be able to if Pete wasn’t there. Or if he was the only one there. I still had my eyes closed but I could hear him recounting my arrest for the others. They weren’t saying anything, just grunted occasionally. Like the one who searched me, they seemed mostly embarrassed.
I couldn’t tell if I was embarrassed. I didn’t quite listen but I heard some of it and then some more. And then I opened my eyes. Pete was saying “I got her in the car and that’s when I showed her my badge and you know what she does? Huh? She unbuttons her shirt. She shows me her tits and tells me I can suck them. Starts grabbing at my belt and when that doesn’t work, she takes off her skirt and the rest of it. Won’t put her clothes back on. Just keeps showing herself to me. I had to cuff her to keep her still. Go on and ask Ed.”
Ed wasn’t around, not that I could see, and pretty soon Pete was gone too. That’s when something inside me shifted. When I noticed he’d left, my breathing changed and I thought I might cry if I didn’t get a cigarette. The desk sergeant gave me my pack. Lit one for me and then soon after he was lighting another, though already I’d begun rationing. Counting how many were left and how long they could last me.
The whole night went that way. Counting things. Hours, bars, cinder blocks – anything at all to keep from examining the exact way I’d gotten here. And just who’d had his hand in it.
Nine
The next day, first thing, Ed and Pete took me over to the county courthouse. They’d showered and changed. They’d probably even slept. I wore the same clothes.
They gave me ten minutes with my public defender. I spent most of it trying to make sure he couldn’t see I wasn’t wearing underwear. I concentrated on this because it was clear from the start I wouldn’t be able to control anything else.
The guy said his name was Jim something. He started talking before he even sat down. He told me a concerned citizen had taken an interest. He actually used those words. Anyway, this concerned person had offered to foot the bill for my rehab.
“Rehab for what?” I said.
Jim looked at me like “get serious.” Then he said, “It’s a good deal. It keeps you a minor. That wouldn’t be possible otherwise.”
“So what,” I said. “How long could they keep me?”
“They’ve got resisting arrest, attempted assault on an officer.”
That sobered me some. Seemed getting fucked in the car was just the beginning of the fuckings lined up for me, that Ingrid’s husband had lined up.
I should’ve realized this sooner except I wouldn’t let myself think. Not for a minute. I couldn’t believe he’d spend this kind of time and money on me. The arrest, yeah, well sure, but this? But then if he couldn’t get to Ingrid, who else was there?
I glazed over. Let Jim lay it out for me. A private rehab facility. This was the deal that was supposed to excite me. Make me feel lucky. Spare me from sixty or ninety days locked up with the big girls.
“How long?” I asked, as if there was a choice anywhere in sight.
“That depends on your progress.”
I wondered if Jim actually believed any of this. Hard to tell from the way he explained it. His voice cracked from over-use, but otherwise rolled out flat. I’d softened to him though because he seemed to be working just as hard not to look up my skirt as I was working to make it hard for him. This let me decide he wasn’t part of the larger thing.
So there was an informal hearing, a closed one. The judge gave me a chance to talk. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” was how he put it. I decided I didn’t. The concerned citizen never appeared, though it seemed he’d also made the original complaint.
By four that afternoon I was being searched again, this time by a woman and more thoroughly. She gave me some different clothes to wear and then she locked me up by myself. Completely by myself. I figured I must’ve come with instructions.
I don’t know how long this went on. How many days I spent alone in that room. I’d given up counting. Had left that idea back in the holding cell. They brought me food, they came by and lit cigarettes. They took me to the bathroom, but I had to ask and then they stood there and watched.
The room was too small to pace but I found myself doing it anyway. I didn’t sleep really. I’d had an instant aversion to the mattress, which lay on the floor in one corner. I didn’t like that it didn’t have sheets, and it was that plasticky kind. But then maybe this made it harder to set on fire – something I’d already considered but hadn’t attempted because it seemed almost expected. Mostly I didn’t like that I couldn’t see well. The room was too dim, all day and all night, the only light coming from the hallway.
I knew the time of day by what was on the food tray. Went by this until I got to where I could only eat toast. Then I tried to remember which woman worked which shift. A nice one followed by two mean ones and then the nice one again.
I knew that the nice one, Gail, had the day shift. But soon I found it easier to think of her as working the midnight to morning one. Even wished hard that it was true because that would’ve given her more time with me. The woman who really worked that shift sure had plenty to spare.
They kept Gail busy but she still spent time with me. She’d come in and sit with me on that mattress. She’d talk to me. She’d light my cigarettes as if she was just being friendly instead of reminding me I couldn’t do it myself. Instead of getting me on my knees for it. And she never once forced me to eat. Coaxed me sometimes but she never tried to force me.
In this way it was good she worked days because it gave me two meals with her, and only dinner with the one who’d push, who’d get her arm around my neck and insist. These day-to-day things had begun running me.
Gail’s the one who brought Beth to me. Sometimes I think if Gail hadn’t I’d still be in that hole. You get to see pretty fast why people call it that
. The darkness, and the way that makes the edges hard to make out.
Anyway, Gail brought Beth in there with me. And the first thing Beth did was put her arms around me. Even in that light I could see the look on her face.
I began to count again, to count days. And for five of them, including the first one, Beth came to that room. The sixth and seventh meant the weekend because she didn’t come and Gail didn’t come either. On Monday they both came again.
The day after that I went for my first walk. Beth took me. She actually took me outside. And I began to wonder where in my hell she’d come from because this small thing – taking me outside where I could breathe – seemed huge and important and nearly unreal and I couldn’t see where she found the strength for it.
I quickly found I didn’t have much strength. There were woods all around, the hilly kind. It seemed if you could run – if you were physically able, I mean, in a way I knew I wasn’t – you could get lost fast. I hadn’t seen any dogs or even guards but we hadn’t exactly gone anywhere near the gates.
This sort of thing passed through my mind; it didn’t really settle. If somewhere I was working on it, I didn’t know because Beth claimed all my attention. She held my arm while we walked. Helped me up the little slopes.
I’d slept some this week. Slept lying on that mattress instead of crouched down in the corner trying to fight it off. Instead of trying to keep awake in the furthest corner as if that could protect me from the midnight-to-morning woman and who she’d bring with her. Who she might let in while she sat by the door, keeping watch and no doubt collecting on me.
These last nights I’d stretched out and slept. And when they came, I let them because I found this way I could pretend to be sleeping and it’d go faster. It’d seem to, and I’d get hit less. And I’d be thinking how the next day I’d see her. Beth. I’d be thinking for the first time that I might not always be here.
Beth seemed to be thinking this too. Seemed to have assumed it right from the start. The fourth day we went out walking she stopped and sat down, propped herself against a log that was lying there.
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