Invitation

by Christina Hoffman

  I got out of the shower. I couldn't stand it. Every time I remembered him it made the present seem even worse. I had enough to cope with. There was no room for him, not even memories of him, in my life now. I wasn't sure how I was going to survive. Whenever I thought of him, the despair threatened to swamp my already sinking boat. I had let myself be open and vulnerable, and I had paid the price. I was still paying the price.

  I had no more tears for Liam. He had to die in my head. No more softness. No more trips down memory lane. They left me weakened, almost destroyed. I had given someone a precious part of me, and it had meant nothing to him. Well, that should teach me. How many times was I going to have to learn this lesson?

  Even worse were the times when I felt such anger towards him that, in my daydreams, I sometimes started slapping and hitting him. I didn't have the physical or mental resources left to cope with missing Liam Mason. I was on my own. I wrapped my memories of him in concrete and pushed them way back, deep into the corners of my mind, where they couldn't come out to torture me anymore. I banished him.

  I dried off enough to get my pajamas on. I put a towel on my pillow to soak up the water from my wet hair. I set my alarm for 5:30am, and lay down. I was afraid I would toss and turn, but sometimes, when we really need it to be, the mind can be kind, and I was asleep in seconds.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  In the morning, I had just hit the snooze button on my alarm when I got this text from Owen:

  See you tonight. Have a shower after work, and don't forget to shave.

  God, he was disgusting. His arrogance made my insides crawl. And then, in case I had forgotten, he texted:

  Final review with Olsen tomorrow.

  There are days in your life when, before you have even really opened your eyes you are imagining the day is finished and you are back in bed. This was one of those days for me.

  In the morning I had a written exam, one of our final exams for that rotation. Despite everything going on, I had somehow managed to study enough and I thought it went all right. It was a long exam, hundreds of questions. Although I was stressed out and exhausted, I managed to stay focused. I needed to concentrate hard, which was great, because I didn't want my mind to wander too much. Dealing with one huge problem at a time had become my new survival skill and life mantra.

  I was hoping that my subconscious would somehow work out a plan to save me from the Rat that evening, but by lunch nothing had appeared, and my panic was rising.

  I used that nervous energy to motivate a quick study session with some of the other students on my rotation. They were a nice group of people and I regretted that we hadn't had much time together.

  In the afternoon we had patient exams. Fake patients pretended to have illnesses or problems, and we had to interview them, examine them and discuss a plan with them. Nine times. Three an hour for three hours. I went into one room, worked with the patient, the bell went “ding” when time was up and I moved into the next room.

  I had spent a lot of time with the kids and their parents, so I wasn't too worried about the whole bedside manner part of things, but the cases were often bizarre, off-the-wall diagnoses which tested more my ability to memorize the least likely of illnesses than to treat real-life children. Still, I didn't think I had actually failed any of them.

  Owen the Rat was in charge of compiling all the results, but he couldn't really threaten me with that. I was allowed to request to see the examiners' comments and marks, and I would if my results were really low. It was the one place I didn't have to worry about his interference.

  The day passed by. Ten hours down. Maybe eight more to go before I was back in bed? How much could happen in eight hours? Tick tick tick.

  By 4:30pm, neither my conscious nor my subconscious brain had come up with a way for me to get out of dealing with Owen. Could I go to Dr. Olsen? No, she seemed to think he was God's gift to medicine. Could I go to my faculty advisor? It was a no-win there. The year before, another female resident had gone to talk to someone about her research boss who was putting the moves on her. He denied it, of course, and said she was simply a woman scorned. He said she had tried to bribe him for a better mark, and when he turned her down, she tried to attack his reputation. Somebody's reputation was destroyed that day, but it wasn't his.

  The whole situation was taking me back to the dark days after the incident, when my heart and body was battered, and my future seemed empty. I felt dirty and worthless again. The despair moved over me like a black cloud and I had trouble thinking straight. I didn't feel much of anything. Numb, I guess. Maybe that was a protective thing, or maybe I had just really given up.

  What did I have if I screwed this up? No family. No money. No career. Worse than no career, because crippling student loans would make it so I could never go back to school again, and what school or employer wasn’t going to think twice about someone who had made it halfway through medical school and then suddenly flunked out, or dropped out?

  I was just one small person drowning alone in a dark world. There was no one to pull me out but myself.

  I could refuse to spend time with Owen and let him fail me. But that would just keep me in his clutches for another three months. I would just end up back at this point all over again.

  I realized then that there must be something innately wrong with me. I did bring on these terrible things. I did somehow attract these awful people with their sick attentions. Chloe and my father were right. I didn't know how to just keep my head down and get on with things.

  I took a deep breath, and I just gave up. I would let whatever had to happen, happen. I would make myself pretty and offer myself up on a plate to the person with the power. I would leave my body and go far away until it was finished. Then I would get up the next day and never, ever think of it again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  As I walked home I got another message from Owen:

  I'll pick you up at 7pm. Wear something nice.

  That gave me enough time to shower. And shave. I tried to get clean, to smell nice. I found a pretty dress from the days before The Incident. I guessed I was going to have to start referring to it as The First Incident after the coming night with Owen. I didn't have the energy to laugh at the dark humor.

  I checked myself over in the mirror. I felt no connection at all to the body staring back at me. It was a mannequin I was looking over, checking to see that it would meet Owen's approval. Pretty makeup, check. Tight but classy dress, check. My precious, special black lingerie, check.

  The surface of me was wrapped up like a shiny present. But inside was rotten, dark, polluted and ruined.

  I waited for Owen outside my building. I leaned against the stucco, running my hands roughly along it. The wind was cold, with slivers of icy rain. It felt cool on my skin and I liked that it hurt. It was the perfect weather for how I felt.

  Owen pulled up, leaned across the car's interior and pushed the door open. I walked over and got in.

  “You look gooood.” He wore the grin of a predator. I smiled back. The new me said, “Nice car.” I ran my hand suggestively along the dashboard. “Very sexy.”

  “I know, right?” He relaxed, enjoying this turn of events. I'm sure he was expecting more of a fight from me. Maybe he even wanted one, who knows? But he wasn't going to get it. I was finished with me. He could take whatever he wanted.

  He placed his hand on me knee, and we drove along in silence. I let the passing view of the dark grey city numb me even further.

  We pulled onto a pretty street and into the driveway of a new townhouse. “It's mine.” Owen looked to me for approval.

  “Nice.” I nodded and gave a little smile. I decided to just leave the fake smile on my face. It was easier that way.

  We walked up the stairs to the door. He buzzed some numbers. The door opened and we went in. I looked around and gave him another smile, because that was what I was supposed to do.

  It was a nice enough room. Very bachelor-ish of course. The
new style of dark hardwood, steel kitchen, brown leather couch, giant black TV. I liked it the way I had liked the weather. It suited my mood. I fit right in here.

  “Take your coat off,” he ordered. I hesitated a bit, which I saw excited him. I wasn't sure yet how to play the game. Taunt him a little? I didn't have the energy to play hard to get. Why pretend? He had the power. We both knew it.

  I removed my coat and dropped it onto the floor beside me. I went to take off my heels, but he said, “No, baby. Leave those on.”

  He went to sit in the living room. “Come here.”

  I did as he said and stood in the doorway. “No, come where I can see you.” He gestured in front of the chair he was sitting in. “I want to look at you until I can't take it anymore.”

  I stood in from of him. “Look in my eyes”. I did, but my vision blurred and I went farther away. He sat back in his chair and stared. His hard-on became obvious. I was trying to get myself to go to him, but my body wouldn't move. My brain was snapping commands, “Go over there. Touch him. Get this done. Faster is better.” But my body wouldn't do it. I stood as still as a stone.

  He stood instead and walked to me. He stroked my hair, almost gently. He cupped his hand around my neck and said, “Thank you so much for coming.” I think he honestly believed I had come just because he was so desirable. There was some whole new kind of crazy going on in that room.

  He put his hands on either side of my face, and pulled me forward onto his lips. My body trembled and I couldn't kiss him back.

  “Too fast?” He smiled. He moved his hands slowly down my shoulders, then inward until his thumbs grazed my nipples. He rubbed then gently. My dress wrapped around the front, and he pushed the material back exposing more of my neck and chest. He kissed my skin as he rubbed my nipples.

  My brain kept repeating, “Just do this. This is who you are. You are bad and ruined, so what's this one more thing?” But my body was having trouble accepting it all. I had to swallow down the waves of nausea that kept rising.

  He lifted the skirt of my dress, and put his hand between my thighs. My legs clamped shut, beyond my control. This excited him, and he laughed deeply. His hand began to move up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Suddenly I heard a small noise coming from another room.

  “What's that?” I stepped back from him.

  He pulled me closer again, and said, laughing, “That's dessert.”

  Shock and fear propelled me away from him, toward the room. In the doorway, I flicked on the light. It was his bedroom. A young woman was on the bed, shielding her eyes from the bright light. There was something very familiar about her, but my mind couldn't quite work it out.

  “Hi,” she waved slowly. Everything about her was slow: her speech, her smile, her movements.

  “Is she high?” I turned to Owen.

  “I gave her something to relax.” Owen looked at her and they both laughed. “Isn't that right, baby?” To me he said, “She was nervous about it being the three of us tonight.”

  She shrugged, and looked even younger than she had at first appeared. Owen moved to sit beside her on the bed. He grabbed her breast and twisted it. She cried out and slapped his hand away.

  He grabbed a fist of her hair. “But you're just a dirty, little thing aren't you?” He used his grip on her hair to move her head up and down, nodding. She pouted and tried to pull away, but she was too weak. I stared at her face, and suddenly knew exactly where I had seen her.

  It woke me up. I was back in my body, enraged and strong and thinking clearly. Those men had called me dirty and disgusting, and I had believed it. They had done filthy things to my body and then twisted it all around so that I was somehow the disgusting one. Even my own father had said I was worthless, and I had believed him, too.

  But in front of me was a woman, a child, who was lovely and worthy and who should have a whole life of good moments and love ahead of her. Beside her was a rotten person, perverse, manipulative and corrupt. How wrong, how sick that anyone could look at a scene like this and think that the girl had deserved or asked to be treated as though she had no value at all.

  I wanted to pick up the table lamp and smash it into the back of Owen's head. My arms wanted to rip him off the bed and away from her, but my mind had come back, finally, to help.

  “I want to take pictures,” I said in my softest, most sultry voice. I needed to sound turned on. “I'm going to get my phone.”

  I hurried back to the front entrance, to grab my purse. I scrambled to find the phone and moved quickly back into his bedroom. By the time I got there, the girl was nearly passed out, and he had undone her top. She was braless, and her open shirt exposed her breasts.

  “You next,” he said, gesturing towards the bed.

  “You first.” I purred. “It'll make me hot to see you.”

  He smiled and moved off the bed. “Undress me, then,” he sneered. I was happy to do it. I brushed my hands along his neck and chest as I removed his shirt. I couldn't bring myself to touch him anywhere below the waist, but I looked into his eyes, smiled, and licked my lips as his pants and then his underwear dropped to the floor.

  “Get on the bed.” I said. He practically jumped onto it. “Lay down beside her.” I took out my phone and started taking pictures. “Oh, this is so sexy.” He was completely naked and hard as a rock. He was clearly proud of all his physical attributes, and pleased by my attention.

  I emailed the pictures to myself as soon as they were taken.

  He started touching himself. “Come here.” I took more pictures, pretending to laugh and enjoy myself. He was growing impatient. “Come here now,” he growled.

  I put my camera back in my purse, tucked my hair behind my ears and said, “No. That's not going to happen.”

  He laughed, like it was a game, but his face clouded over. He was about to bark more orders at me.

  “I've seen her in the Outpatient clinic,” I told him.

  For a split second he looked nervous, but quickly covered it up. “Yeah, so. I met her there.”

  “Not really supposed to be dating patients, are we?” He glared at me. “Might be worth mentioning to your supervisor? Or the Physician's College?”

  He looked confident again. “She's just the aunt of some kid. Okay, it's not ideal. But I'm not exactly going to lose my license over dating some kid's relative. I'll say I didn't know.”

  He thought he had me. He sprang across the room, grabbed my arm and started dragging me towards the bed.

  I ripped my arm away. “She is NOT the patient's Aunt,” I snarled between gritted teeth. He shrugged. “She is his SISTER, and she is SIXTEEN years old!”

  Owen froze. He glared at me and looked ready to argue. But then he looked down at the girl. She had fallen asleep, or passed out, and with her face soft and vulnerable she looked more like she was twelve. His hands started to shake.

  He stood and came towards me. He snatched at my bag, trying to grab the camera. I took it out and offered it to him. “Feel free. I've already sent the pictures.”

  He shoved my hand away and snapped, “Hey, she told me she was older.” I backed away from him. “It could happen to anybody! She's just a little slut!”

  I slapped him hard across the face. “Don't you EVER call anyone that again.” I glared at him. He looked frightened, and I was glad. “Her name is Isabel, you ass. Call us a cab!” He started to protest. “Now!”

  He ran from the room. I moved toward Isabel and started doing up her clothes. I moved her head around, trying to wake her a little, and her eyes finally opened. She tried to focus on me. “We're getting out of here, sweetie.” She nodded. “I need you to try to stand up.”

  She was tiny. My body was coursing with anger and rage, and I had plenty of power to help move her little body towards the door. How could anyone have thought she was nineteen?

  There were opaque windows along the sides of the door, and we stood there waiting for the outline of a taxi to show up. It did, finally
, and I began unlocking the door. Owen ran towards us, and the look in his eyes, the fear and the hatred that was there, frightened me. I struggled with the chain and then the deadbolt. I was trying to keep Isabel upright while pushing us both out the door.

  Owen was begging and trying to shut the door on us. “You just have to hear me out,” he yelled over and over. I shoved him aside, and pushed Isabel and myself through the door. It was dark outside and I was watching the steps to make sure we didn't fall.

  I ran straight into a man and screamed in fear. I jumped back, eyes wide open. It was Liam. He had his arms raised. He looked alarmed and confused. His eyes swept back and forth from Isabel to me, trying to figure out what was happening. He looked up the steps. Owen stood watching, pale as a ghost. He slammed the door closed and bolted the locks.

  The driver of the cab opened his door and got out, but stayed well back of the trouble. “Everything, okay, miss? You want me to call the police?”

  “No,” I answered him, starting to move toward the car. “We need a ride.”

  Liam grabbed at my arm, “Madison. Honey. What's going on?” He tried to smile. He really had no idea what had happened. He said, jokingly, “I came to rescue you.”

  I stared him down, trying to bring my breathing under control. “I rescued myself, you asshole.” My voice was so cold and hard I didn't recognize it.

  He moved towards me, opening his arms for an embrace. With my free arm I punched him hard in the chest. I backed away and glared at him. “Get away from us. Get away!” I know I sounded hysterical, but everything was boiling up in me at once. “I don't ever want to see you again! You heartless asshole!! Fuck you!!” My voice was hoarse and cracking from screaming. “FUCK. YOU!!”

  I dragged Isabel into the cab and told the driver to take us to the hospital. I didn't even look back as we pulled away.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  When we got to the hospital, I took Isabel to the cafeteria. She was coming around, and ordered a soda and some fries. I asked permission to look through her purse and found her phone. “Your Mom in here?” I asked.