“What the fuck is going on Shy? Please be honest with me.”
“Taylor. I can’t deal with these mind games. This isn’t some sick fucking game of yours is it?”
“No! I would never do that to you! You have to tell me how you ended up there.”
“I never got that message. I only got flowers and a card to meet you at the same hotel as last time. I snuck out and met you...or so I thought.” I watch Taylor’s face as he processes my story. He paces around, his lips moving as he tries to match it with his version of events.
“Where’s your phone?”
“It’s in my purse.”
He grabs my phone and looks through the text and call history. “Shy you didn’t get any of my texts until the one I sent at 5:13. That’s why I asked if you were okay, I hadn’t heard back from you. In fact, it looks like you had no activity until this evening. Someone had to have hacked your phone.”
“What? This can’t be happening.”
“Shy, you have to tell me the truth. Did you really think that was me?”
“Yes! How much different was that meeting than what we have done in the past? I still can’t believe it wasn’t you! He was your height and...Oh god.” The reality sets in at that moment. If it wasn’t Taylor, then who else could it be? Who else knew about us and is the same height? Who would want to throw this in his face? Taylor slowly walks into the kitchen, his movement is painfully slow yet unpredictable. He glides like a cat and then suddenly he explodes. He takes the pot of sauce and throws it against a wall creating a red steamy mess.
“That motherfucker! That piece of shit! I will fucking kill him!” He starts tearing the kitchen apart.
“Taylor!” My screams get Harrison’s attention as he runs into the house, gun in hand.
“Not now Harrison!” Taylor commands. Harrison looks at me, his cool expression barely hiding his bewilderment.
“Everything is okay Harrison. Please leave. He just found out some bad news. Please, just go.”
Harrison hesitantly backs away “Let me know if either one of you need anything,” he says slowly closing the front door behind him.
“Shy, this is my fault. This is all my fault. I am not mad at you, I am just mad. I believe you. I would never wish this on anyone. I would never want anyone to go through what I have been through.” Tears stream down his face. “I’m gonna fix this, Shy.”
“Taylor, please, let’s just go to the police.”
“And tell them what? That we just know that it’s Eric in that suit? That you didn’t consent, because it sure as shit looks like you are enjoying yourself.” He winces and clenches his fist as he registers that last fact. “Oh god!” He looks sick to his stomach.
“I’m sorry Taylor. I’m so sorry.”
“That son of a bitch. I bet there are no prints. He wore that fucking zentai suit. He had this planned all along. That sick fuck.”
“But why? Why would he come all this way just to do that?”
“He wants to destroy me. There is no rhyme or reason. I can’t believe this.”
“I thought you said he was gone.”
“He is supposed to leave this evening and you were with Harrison. I didn’t expect anything to happen.”
“It’s not Harrison’s fault. I snuck out.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I thought you wanted me to!”
“You never follow the fucking protocol!”
“This is not my fault! What are we going to do? Maybe I should at least file a police report.” The thought of trying to explain this scenario to the police makes me realize that will be much harder than it sounds.
“Did he...did he protect himself? Nevermind, I can’t take this right now.”
I don’t say anything. I washed up at the hotel before going back to work. He has committed the perfect rape.
“I have to leave. I have to go. I need to clear my head. You don’t deserve to see me like this, this is not your fault.”
“Please don’t leave me.”
“I have to get out of here. This house is suffocating me. I need to clear my head.”
“Please,” I beg through the tears.
“Shyla. I need to figure out how I am going to fix this. Alone. I’ll be back.” He takes my face and holds it close to his. “Please trust me. I need some time and I will come back.” He grabs his keys and I hear the door close behind him.
Here I am. Sitting on the floor, alone, in a big glass castle. The frozen image of a stranger in a black suit laying over my body, a cruel reminder of deceit, just fifteen feet away from me.
***
I can’t move, paralyzed by the gravity of it all. I can’t tell anyone because I don’t even know where I could possibly start. I welcomed him in my arms. I kissed his face. I pulled his hips toward mine as he thrusted. How could I explain this to someone? I can’t even explain my consensual relationship with Taylor to anyone. I’m not sure how long I sit on the floor, but eventually, I stand up and turn off the television screen and fix the only thing I can right now: the kitchen. It takes me a while to find the supplies, since Taylor insists that I don’t bother cleaning. The warmth of the soapy water in the bucket is the only thing I can feel through the numbness. The monotonous pattern of scrubbing, rinsing, and wringing the washcloth is hypnotic and oddly soothing.
“Let me take care of that.” It’s Harrison.
“No thank you. I’ve got this.” I am nearly catatonic. He steps away, but minutes later I hear him come back with a mop. He is going to help me whether I want it or not. I deliberately clean the kitchen very slowly for I am afraid I will be alone with my thoughts with nothing left to occupy them. An hour or so later, the kitchen is spotless and there is still no word from Taylor. How could he just leave me like this? I float aimlessly through the house trying to find something. What? I don’t even know. I end up in his bedroom. I punch the keypad to allow myself into the darkroom. Taylor gave me the code just days ago because he felt that I should have the same level of access as him. It’s my first time in the room alone. Just like the first time he let me in, I examine all the instruments, many of which I still have not been submitted to, wondering, almost longingly now, if that day will never come. I liked it. I came. This is not what rape is supposed to feel like. He was an instrument like the ones surrounding me, just as I was an instrument of revenge for Eric. I just can’t feel betrayed by an instrument. If he had shown his face, it would have been different. I know this is wrong and I feel angry, but I don’t feel violated, not in the way I expect I should. What hurts more than anything is seeing Taylor in pain. This only serves to make the guilt more potent. I am vile. I am a whore.
I walk up to the small wooden wardrobe that holds various garments made of leather and latex. I graze my fingers over the chaps, full body suits and chains hanging in front of me. I don’t know when Taylor will return and I don’t know what to say to him when he does. I know I can’t make him feel better with my words. I can live with this, I will be fine, but Taylor will always live with the fact that he was unable to protect me. Taylor couldn’t protect himself or his mother as a child and he has failed again. I close the door to the room behind me as I exit, hearing the familiar click of the lock.
The bedroom clock shows it’s already 2:25am. I just want to sleep, but while I am exhausted, I can’t settle down. I remember Taylor has sedatives for his sleep issues and I grab a couple, more than I need, but I want a guaranteed effect. It works. I don’t remember getting into bed or falling asleep. I only know it worked because later I am awoken by loud crashing noises outside of the bedroom. I am so sedated that I can’t fully wake up; this is some strong shit. I try to listen to the raucous in a half awake, half asleep haze. The fearful thought crosses my mind for a second that this could be Eric. I try hard to fight the sedation, slowly coming to. The bedroom door opens.
“Shy? Shy are you awake?” I respond, trying hard not to sound exhausted, but my voice gives it away. “Sorry...didn’t mean
to wake you.” The sound of his footsteps are labored. He is drunk. I sit up, hoping it will force me to attention.
“Taylor, come sit down.” I feel him plop on the bed at my feet. “Where have you been?”
“Just needed to clear my head.”
“You left me all alone. You just left me.”
“I had to. I didn’t want you to see me. I didn’t want to turn it on you.”
“You blame me?”
“No...but you saw the DVD. You liked it Shy. You didn’t fight. That was hard to see.”
“I swear I thought it was you.” I turn on the lamp on the nightstand so he can see the sincerity on my face.
“I know. I know.” He is holding an opened bottle of vodka. I reach for it, but he pulls it away.
“Listen, I want you to think rationally here, Taylor. He is trying to provoke you. Please don’t do anything stupid.”
“Shyla, I can take care of myself. Don’t worry.”
I look down. I can’t bear to see him like this because of me. The guilt is crushing.
“Shyla, you don’t have to concern yourself. He’s gone, but this time I won’t let him go. I’ll find him. That’s all you need to know.”
“I think I have a right to know what your plans are.”
“It’s for your own good that you don’t.”
Between the emotion and the drugs, I find it hard to articulate an argument against his reasoning.
“Shy, I have to tell you something and I have to do it now, while I’m drunk, or it will never happen.”
“What?”
“Let me just get this out.”
“Okay, okay.”
“People around me suffer, even when I was in the womb they did. They always have. I fooled myself into thinking that would change, but it never will. My demons will always follow me. You and I...we shouldn’t be together.” There is no emotion in his voice. A jolt of despair runs through me, making me more alert despite the sleep meds. A tear trickles down my cheek.
“Taylor. You don’t mean this. You’re drunk. I’ll be fine, I really will. Please don’t do this.”
“It’s because I’m drunk that you know I mean this.”
“Please don’t. I can’t be without you.”
“That’s not true. It will hurt at first, but it’ll get better. One day, when you are far away from this moment, you will see all this for what it really is and know it was for the best.”
“No! You don’t get to determine that. I don’t need you to make decisions about my safety. I am a grown woman.”
“Shy, I can’t be fixed. We won’t ride off into the sunset. There will be no happy ending.”
“So I have no say in this? Just like that, we’re over?”
“This is the right move.” There is no warmth in his tone.
“This isn’t right. You can’t make someone love you and then leave them all alone. It’s wrong. It’s dangerous.”
“I tried to prevent us from happening. You know that.”
I spring up and grab my overnight bag. “Really? You tried so hard? When did you try? When you followed me out of the coffee shop? When you called me in for an interview? When you made me your date for the gala? That doesn’t sound like someone who was running away from anything!”
“Shy, where are you going? It’s three in the morning.”
“I’m going home and you can that have that back if you want, but I’ll need to go there tonight.”
“You don’t need to go right now.”
“Stop it with the mind fucking! If we’re done, we’re done!” The finality of those words are sobering. I stop packing and sit on a chair that I have never used before. “What does over mean exactly? Does it mean we don’t see each other again?”
Taylor sighs and looks down. “That would make sense. We have to remove any association with me, at least until we know Eric is under control.”
“That may be never.”
“Maybe.”
“How can you do this? How can you just shut me out? How can you be so cold? Is it really that easy for you?”
“Because this is who I am. It’s not about what either of us want, it’s about what needs to be done.”
“I don’t believe that. I just can’t believe you would let me walk away if you felt what this is between us is real.”
“We operate differently. I can manage the pain.” I can’t get to him. It is as though he has rebuilt the wall he had at the very beginning. He won’t let me see past the frigid facade. It’s chilling how his eyes seem so void of emotion when I had seen them full of joy and tenderness just hours ago. Just like he said, he can turn it all off whenever he wants.
“Yeah, well what about me Taylor? What about me! You just come into my life and turn it upside down. Nothing is the same anymore, your footprints are everywhere. Everywhere I look, I will see you. Everything will have your name on it. Nothing will be the same. It will be like living with a ghost. Please!”
He shakes his head and walks towards me. He reaches out to touch me, the first physical display of human emotion since he woke me up, but I shrug him off. I want him to touch me so badly, but anger is the only thing I have left.
“You need to see a doctor.”
“Don’t worry about that. I can handle myself. You don’t have the privilege of having an opinion on my actions anymore.”
“I wish I had let you walk away that day I first saw you.” The words feel like a kick to the stomach.
I grab my bag knowing there is so much left in this house that I cannot place into a bag. Not just possessions, but memories, experiences. It seems so unfair that all of this could be snatched away so abruptly. I walk towards the bedroom door, as slowly as I can without being completely obvious, hoping he will tell me to stop, but there is just silence. I grab the handle to push it open, but before I can make the final push, before I can let it all dissolve into memories, I drop my bag and I turn around to face Taylor once last time.
“Punish me.”
Taylor stands up and gives me a puzzled look. I drop to my knees. The words pour out of me frantically. The tears burn my lips. I won’t let Taylor stop me from saying what I need to say.
“Punish me! It will make you feel better. It will make me feel better. Someone has to pay, let it be me! Please just do it, I know you want to. I know you have had the urge since you saw that video and that’s why you left. That’s why you’re being so cold, you’re burying it all. This isn’t about protecting me from Eric, it’s about protecting me from you, but I don’t need it, you don’t have to be afraid of what you’ll do to me. Just admit that you want to punish me and I’ll take it, you can do whatever you want and then we can move past this!”
Taylor’s eyes narrow as if he has been exposed. He takes a swig from his bottle and slowly comes close to me. He looks down at me.
“Shy, this is bad. I’m giving you an opportunity to leave. I’m holding it in with all of my might. I don’t want to do this, but it’s a compulsion.”
“But, you do. You will punish me one way or another, so let me pick my poison.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“So that is why you want me to leave?”
“I don’t want you to leave. You need to leave. You don’t deserve to be punished for any of this. I know that in my mind and in my heart, but there is the dark side of me, the one that wants to act on this. He will always want to relieve the tension and I can’t be okay around you until I do.”
“I want to be with you. I’ll do whatever it takes. I love you so much it makes me sick.”
“That’s what I am afraid of. Love can be a disease.”
We sit there in silence for a while. I think we let the moment linger just so we can comfort ourselves with each other’s presences. I don’t recognize myself any longer, and the awareness of that fact is the only thing that lets me know I am still sane. I know what I have to do. I know there is only one way Taylor and I can move forward while still being together.
; “God you’re a pussy,” I say. Taylor sits erect with a puzzled expression on his face.
“What? Excuse me?”
“Your brother and I fuck and you just quit. You just let him win. This is what he wanted, I assume. To ruin your chance at happiness, to come and mark his territory.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you talking like this?”
“I am begging for you to take me into the darkroom, and instead you aren’t even man enough to set me straight.”
“Stop it! I know what you’re doing.”
“Maybe it’s for the better. You’re not who I thought you were. I thought you were a Dom. I thought you took care of things. I thought you took control of things, but instead you’re a victim. You’re Eric’s bitch.”
Taylor’s eyes begin to well up with rage. He grabs my arm. “Is this what you want? Is this what you fucking want? You want me to set you straight?”
“I want you to fucking win. Take me back! Don’t let Eric have me. I am not fragile, you wouldn’t be able to break me if you tried. You’re weak.” That last statement makes him burst. He pushes me to the floor.
“Crawl.” He sneers. I start to crawl to the darkroom and he pushes me with his foot almost knocking me over. This is him; this is really him.
I wait on all fours as he opens the door. He pulls me up to my feet by my hair. I don’t make a sound. I don’t want him to know how much it hurts.
Taylor uses metal handcuffs for the first time to restrain my hands and clips them overhead. He rips off my nightgown with his hands, destroying it. Then he pulls off his own shirt, beads of sweat drip down his ripped abdomen. He squeezes my face with his right hand and leans in closely.
“So did you like it? When he fucked you?”
Should I lie? No. Both of us have to be real. “Honestly, at the time, yes.” My voice is holding back emotion; I don’t want to cave in too quickly.
He grins, and for a fleeting moment, I swear I see the devil. He walks away and comes back with a crop. There is a moment of stillness and then he slaps me once on my rear. I jump in reaction to the stinging. My skin burns and I can still feel the exact shape of the crop on my skin. A tear rolls down my cheek, but I don’t make a noise.
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