Trapdoor

by Vixen Phillips

  I carry him into my old bedroom. Peg’s already brought in his bag and made the bed look inviting. Mr. Rabbit’s tucked in, and there’s the book of the moment, Where The Wild Things Are. I lay him down, but as I sit beside him and reach for the book he darts a glance at Pegasus. “Peggy-sis, read me story! Please.”

  For a moment I’m upset, then delighted, then nervous. Wendy often got the same request, and refused every time. I glare at Pegasus, who sits up and hugs a spare pillow to his chest. “What? Me? Raven, I can’t read him this book.”

  I shrug. “You know how to read, don’t you?”

  He frowns. “Yes, but—”

  “Peggy-sis, read story!” a little voice insists. Please don’t make him beg. Not like she does.

  He puts out a hand and strokes Damien’s cheek. Then, biting his lip, he opens the book to the first page. And I can breathe again.

  · § ·

  After Damien and Ma are both in bed, Pegasus and I wander through the living room and out into the courtyard. My son’s safe at last, and asleep. That and the buzzing in my head as the numbness wears off have settled it: now’s as good a time as any to smoke this joint I’ve been carrying around ever since I left the city.

  The rain’s stopped. It’s been too easy to forget how alive the sky is out here, so full of stars, those I remember and those I’ve forgotten. Before Melbourne claimed me, I used to spend hours lying beneath them every single night. Maybe when I was my son’s age, maybe a bit older, I’d even dreamed of becoming an astronomer.

  Now it’s Pegasus who looks up at the sky in amazement, as I fish a lighter out of my pocket and flick it at one end of the joint. “So, when are you leaving?”

  He raises a brow. “I knew you were trying to get rid of me. Five, or something.”

  “In the morning?”

  He rolls his eyes as he nods; it’s an ungodly hour to both of us. “Needs must when the devil drives.”

  I concede the point—it’s certainly apt—and take another drag. “You did a pretty good job, tonight. With his bedtime story.”

  “Oh.” He looks away, as though even in the dark he doesn’t want me to know he’s blushing. I burst out laughing, then he does, too. I really shouldn’t have started this thing. Been so long since I smoked, it’s already getting to me.

  When the laughter dies out, his gaze drifts down to the joint in my hand. “Do you want any?” I ask.

  He darts another glance in my direction. “I—I don’t really smoke.”

  Is he scared? Why? Still, far be it for me to force it on him. “Well,” I hear myself saying, “you wouldn’t need to smoke it yourself.”

  He twitches. “What do you mean?”

  I shoot him an evil grin, and suck as much of the acrid smoke into my lungs as I can bear. Holding my breath, I lean carefully towards him, raising my eyebrows suggestively. For a second he pulls back, then lets me expel the smoke into his mouth. I feel my kneecaps turn to liquid as our lips brush together. Then he bursts into a fit of coughing, broken only by fragments of apology.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper, though I don’t feel as bad as I should while I stand here rubbing his back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Choking out a final cough, he sinks onto the old sofa behind us. Once I finish off the joint, I’m left feeling so dizzy I’m more than ready to join him. Love nests. Isn’t that what these are called?

  I lose track of time while we sit, side by side, as I get to telling him all the constellation names my brain spits at me, improvising when nothing comes. Rather than boredom or polite indulgence, he seems impressed with how I know all this. How long’s it been since I’ve felt so appreciated, by anyone other than my son?

  I still can’t bring myself to ask him why he came, but maybe it doesn’t matter anymore.

  Just before midnight, we go to bed. Separately.

  Of course.

  · § ·

  Sometime during the middle of the night I jerk awake, having fallen out of bed and onto the floor. Damien. I jump to my feet, fast enough to cause a head-spin from the pot that’s still floating through my system. Sure enough, he lies sprawled sideways across the mattress, wrapped snugly in the doona, snoring softly. “Bed hog,” I mumble. Anyway, it’s a good opportunity to duck downstairs for a glass of water.

  Halfway along the hall, I pass Pegasus’s door. It’s slightly ajar, but I resist the temptation to wander in. I’d probably only do something stupid. Like try and kiss him again. I grab hold of the railing, let it guide me down to the kitchen. My foot creaks on the second step, and a melody drifts up to meet me, something beautiful, like a memory from childhood…

  The piano.

  Starting to shake, I creep towards the living room, searching for clues to help me distinguish between reality, ghost, and reverie. Seated at the grand piano, nothing but the moonlight streaming in upon him, is Pegasus. His hair hangs loose and floats all the way down his naked back, glowing silver. If that wasn’t enough, he’s playing some classical piece, dark, stormy, melancholy, yearning. I’ve heard it before, I think. My angel…

  I watch his hands and fingers glide effortlessly over the keys. Rapt in concentration, he doesn’t notice my intrusion. If he makes any mistakes, I’m not good enough to pick them.

  My dream…

  My shaking intensifies to a violent shiver. I thought I could deny what I felt for you, all this time—no, worse, I did deny it. But no more. It still matters why you came for me, cos I’m in love with you, Peg, and I’m going to tell you, even if it kills me.

  Tonight.

  My heart stops beating altogether, as the song draws to a close, and he sits, panting, poised above the keys.

  My hearts starts pounding in my chest, as he raises his head, and turns to look at me.

  Chapter 6

  Pegasus: If I Should Die Before I Wake

  I stop breathing as my eyes meet his. My lungs only fill with the poison of despair. I can’t think in a straight line, not with him hovering under the archway, his expression unreadable in the dark. He’s mad at me. That’s what I hope for myself. I couldn’t play anymore, anyway. My hands are shaking too badly, with a fear so intense it’s crawling up from the pit of my tummy and trying to escape my mouth. I want to be sick, I’m so afraid.

  Moving in slow motion, he takes a step forward, then another, and another, until he stands by the piano, gazing down upon me. Now reaching out, he takes hold of my hands, his thumbs encircling my wrists. A small sigh parts his lips, before he drops my hands in my lap and runs his fingers through my hair instead. The light shifts, to reveal his face…

  I draw in a sharp breath. We were almost happy together, today. Me and him and Damien. Why did I have to be so stupid? Why did I have to go and spoil everything?

  I hadn’t been able to sleep at all tonight. Shortly after we went to bed, I heard a soft knock on the door, and froze, holding my breath like I’m holding it now. Don’t make a sound and they won’t know you’re there. The logic of a child, alone and afraid in the dark. But who could it be? Raven?

  “Pegasus, are you awake? May I come in?”

  A female voice. His mother’s. Nadja, I remembered from when we were introduced, though this didn’t make me any less afraid. Even if his relatives weren’t anywhere near as sick and twisted as my own, it didn’t mean they were powerless to hurt me.

  I hesitated, for a moment. “I’m awake.”

  Slowly the door creaked open, and she padded in, coming to sit on the side of my bed, out of breath from her journey up the stairs. What do you want from me? I have nothing left to give.

  “I won’t stay,” she assured me, as though sensing my fear in the dark. “I know you have to leave early in the morning.” There was a pause. Then, “I just wanted to say thank you. You make him very happy. I haven’t seen him lately, but I know he hasn’t felt that way in a long time.”

  She struggled to rise from the mattress, and I felt suddenly ashamed, remembering my t
alk of suicide when I realised this woman probably didn’t have the luxury of so much time left. “He’s not good at—he doesn’t talk about his feelings. Maybe only enough to make you worry.” She laughed, and patted my hand. “But you know, I didn’t raise him to be this way. His father—” But she stopped herself.

  “You should tell him,” were the words she left me with. “Tell him how I know you feel when I see the way you look at him. Life is too short. Goodnight, Pegasus.”

  Life is too short. The words echo in my mind. His hand cups my neck, and fingers so warm and tender disappear beneath my hair to make contact with my skin. Your mother says I make you happy. But I have no power to do that. You’re both wrong, if you think—

  He trails a fingertip across my cheek, and down to my lips and chin, before breaking contact. The expression in his eyes…it hasn’t changed. Perhaps we’re frozen in time. I wish we were. At least that way, I wouldn’t have to deal with what I know will come next.

  “Pegasus,” he whispers hoarsely.

  I squeeze my own eyes shut. Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it.

  “Pegasus, I think—I think I’m—”

  “No!” I leap off the piano stool and slap him across the face.

  Another silence falls heavy on the room, before I realise what I’ve done. Hands over my mouth to prevent any further sound, I begin to back away. For a moment he just stands there, maybe more shocked than I am. But the moment he looks up, I turn and flee.

  Underneath the archway, he grabs me by one wrist, pulling me against him so sharply I feel something snap inside my shoulder. Pain shoots down to my right elbow as he wraps an arm around my waist, the other round my throat, and his body presses closer from behind. This is it. He’ll take what he wanted anyway. They always do. I thought you were better than this, Raven.

  For a moment I hang limp as a rag doll in his grasp. Then something deeper, something feral, takes spark inside my soul. I’m not her. You have no idea, and no right to do this to me. I flail against him, wild enough to break free from one arm. That only allows him to spin me around so we’re face to face again. All too quickly, the fire dies out. Fine, do what you will. I don’t care anymore. You can’t keep me here forever, anyway. My mother’s calling my name—can’t you hear her? But you never did know my real name, did you. I never told you. There are lots of things I haven’t told you.

  “Listen to me!” His voice reaches my ears through a choking sob. Raven, are you crying? Submissiveness fades to despair again. I’ve never seen him cry, except for that night Wendy took his son. “I just wanted to tell you,” he says, letting go the arm that hurts, “I—I love you, Pegasus.”

  Something snaps inside my mind, like the muscle in my shoulder. From somewhere, I hear laughter. Horrible, hysterical laughter. Mocking both him and myself, such perfect fools.

  “Peg?” He echoes my name, voice full of concern, his hand tilting my chin up. “Say something. Anything. Please.”

  He’s already expecting rejection. He just needs your confirmation.

  But I can’t. Even though I know I’m unworthy. Even though I know I’m only a whore. Still, the ice comes creeping, across my flesh, seeping into my soul. “How can you say that? You don’t know anything about me!”

  I’m out of here, escaping. Where to?

  I rip open the front door, and the chill night wind hits me full force. The answer comes at once, sent from the sea. You know where to.

  Mother is calling. Go to her.

  · § ·

  The wind moans in my ears. It’s all I can hear, as my feet carry me further from the house. Moonlight guides my way through the blurry silver fields, on towards the beach. Halfway down a rocky embankment, I trip and tumble the rest of the way onto the sand. By the time I come to a stop, I’m only a few metres from the waves.

  So cold. I’m hardly dressed for a winter’s night at the seaside.

  Not that it matters, of course. If I’m going to die like Mother, I might as well get this much right. They found her dressed in white lace and nothing more. As for me, I’m naked except for my white satin boxers. Both of us arrayed in such innocence in death, renouncing the filth and rape we’d borne through our lives.

  I love you, Pegasus.

  The wind dies down, and I can hear myself crying. No tears yet, but I’m wailing like Damien did the night Wendy took him. I don’t want to leave you either, Raven. The realisation hits me as I stare out across the sea, into the inky blackness that seems to me to be the last great unknown. Was my mother this scared? Was she afraid to leave me behind? Did she have any idea what they’d do to me once she was gone?

  Where are you, Raven? You say you love me, then why aren’t you here to save me? Please, don’t allow me to do this.

  What’s the point, in the end, of love? I struggle to my feet, wincing as I place too much pressure on my ankle. What’s the point, when once he knew what I was, it would always come to this. Better now than later. After I become too attached, too deeply involved.

  Too deeply involved. Oh, so that’s it. Who the fuck do I think I’m kidding with this ‘too deeply involved’?

  I make my way towards the waves, limping to my death. How totally pathetic. How just like me.

  On the edge of the shore, my foot sinks into the wet sand. I cry out in pain, falling onto my hands and knees. My hair trails in the waves.

  I love you, Pegasus.

  Stop it, stop it, stop it!

  Even if you’d said something four years ago, I’d still be here. Even if I couldn’t allow anyone else to touch me, not after we met, not after I knew. Despite how I hated myself for taking all the handouts I could get, the thought of them doing that to me once I’d looked into his eyes and realised I did have feelings and remembered I could be hurt was far, far worse.

  And here I am, and I do hurt, more than I could have envisioned. But here is where it stops.

  I ready myself and then stand up, like I don’t feel any pain. Foamy water rushes over my toes as I take my first step into the waves. I thrust out my arms, close my eyes, open myself to the night’s full force. Breathe in deep, clear my mind. Once everything is gone, even his face, I throw my head back and look up at the stars. The sky returns my gaze, impassive, strong, and distant beyond imagination, making me dizzy. Both my mother when I was six years old and Raven tonight had told me, “We’re made out of stars. When we die, perhaps that’s where we’ll return.”

  A beautiful sentiment. I have nothing better to stake my faith upon, since I don’t believe in hell. What torture remains, outside this dimension? And physical pain is nothing. There are worse things you can do to a human being to break it, and I’ve passed through almost all of them. No more.

  “This is the wrong ending,” I whisper, and take my second step into the waves, followed more closely by a third.

  · § ·

  So beautiful.

  Like the sunset. That’s what I’m seeing, beyond the night. A warm glow in the water above me, towards the sky, from which I’m falling, further down and down.

  A blue glow spirals overhead, and invites me into its light. You were always better with words than me, Raven. You told me you loved me. I couldn’t have said that.

  Panic shivers through me as I remember. And Mother is nowhere to be found. I haven’t gone far enough yet.

  Do I want to go that far?

  Is this what you want?

  It’s never been about what I want.

  But now I’m asking you what you want.

  You, Raven. I just want you.

  · § ·

  “Pegasus!”

  A ragged scream sounds in my ears, perhaps from a thousand miles away.

  I’m wrenched from the blue glow, lifted from the arms—no, the womb—of my mother. Is this what it’s like to be born? Or am I already dead?

  I feel nothing but the need to get air into my lungs, the moment my head breaks the black waves. For so long, no oxygen enters—it’s too late, breathe in, oh Go
d, Raven, please—

  A heartbeat pounds in my ears, and I fight and gasp for breath. Why am I here, above the water, beneath the sky, in the cold night air? Why am I alive?

  I begin to choke, my chest hot and raw as I purge all the salt water from my system. Not this time, Mother. Not yet.

  I’m moving along through the waves, both with them and against them, but all the while the shoreline draws closer and closer. Somebody holds me. Somebody who cares. I look down at the arm that encircles my body, and manage what I think is a smile. Then I look up into his face. Somebody who cares. Who else would it be?

  I love you, Pegasus.

  “Raven,” I whisper, and fall against his body. At last the tears come to cleanse me.

  · § ·

  Without his support, I’m too weak to stagger far across the sand before I drop to my hands and knees. Déjà vu. Only now I’m coming out, not going in.

  He wraps me in a thick black coat, then pulls me into his arms. His teeth are chattering. As I lean against his chest, I can feel his body shivering from the cold and his own tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispers at last, wiping at his face with a wet sleeve. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I—I misjudged you. I thought you wanted—”

  He breaks off, helpless and confused. I do want you, Raven.

  “Come back to the house,” he begs me. “We can just go to bed, pretend nothing happened. I mean, forget what I said to you, before— Can’t we?”

  Oh, Raven. Do you honestly think I tried to kill myself because I was so repulsed by those three words, coming from your mouth? I have to say something. But I can’t say that, not yet.

  He’s helping me to stand.

  Then say anything.

  “I never thought you wanted me.” I don’t have the energy for more than a murmur, so I hope he can hear me.

  Straight away he shoots me the most agonised look I’ve ever seen outside a mirror. He heard me, all right. “Tell me something,” he demands, voice breaking against the tears.