Blurring Lines

by Chloe Walsh

  Alcohol, tobacco, sex, filth, grime, aftershave, sweat …

  I didn’t think I would be able to pick Cade out of a crowd anymore.

  My feelings were dead. Sometimes I wondered if I was dead. I could have been … except my heart was still beating and my lungs kept refilling.

  I couldn’t remember what my life had been like before the nest.

  I didn’t want to remember.

  Remembering wouldn’t help me here.

  Accepting this for what it was would help me ...

  The crack of a whip against my bare skin caused me to still.

  “Pretty sunshine,” Master whispered in my ear. “Don’t let me down.”

  I obediently dropped to my knees – like all the others – with my head bent and my hands tied behind my back.

  And then I waited.

  I waited just like all the others to be picked.

  It wouldn’t take long.

  I was always picked first.

  And I was always shared.

  The second I felt fingernails dig into the back of my scalp, I clenched my eyes shut and used my memories to create the mirage that kept me alive.

  These were Cade’s hands on my body.

  This was Cade touching me.

  This was Cade entering my body.

  What was happening to me was okay because it was with Cade.

  Cade was my master …

  “The stars will have to wait … I need you on the ground with me …”

  Cade.

  “The stars will have to wait … I need you on the ground with me …”

  Cade.

  ****

  Cade

  July 28th, 2004

  Emily McAllister asked me to go to the movies with her during lunch yesterday, and I said yes.

  A huge part of me felt like I was betraying Mackenzie by going out with Emily, but the survival instinct inside of my body demanded I go.

  It was the same survival instinct inside of me that demanded I stop living in the past and move on.

  The case was closed last month, which meant the cops had given up hope that Mackenzie would be found.

  I reckoned everyone had.

  I missed Mackenzie so damn bad though, and I didn’t want to give up on her, but it had been over two years and I was so goddamn lonely …

  ****

  Autumn 2004

  Age 17

  Cade

  September 21st, 2004

  “What are you doing after school today?” Ezra asked as we walked down the hallways of Preston High.

  “Nothing much,” I replied quietly.

  “Do you wanna go the movies with me?” he asked. “We could invite Rita and Emily – make a night of it?”

  “Nah.” Reaching my locker, I tapped in my code before grabbing my trig textbook from the top of the pile. “I might head down to the creek and …”

  “And what, Cade?” Ezra demanded, suddenly furious, and slamming my locker door shut. “Jesus Christ, dude, she’s gone! It’s been over two years. When are you going to get that?”

  He looked me dead in the eyes, “You’ve got to stop torturing yourself like this.”

  The only reason I wasn’t kicking Ezra’s ass right now was because I knew he was saying this shit because he cared. He was the one who’d found me with a rope down at the creek last Christmas. He just wanted to help me.

  But he didn’t fucking get it.

  None of them did …

  “She has to be out there,” I hissed, low enough so the students passing us in the hall couldn’t hear. “People don’t just vanish into thin fucking air, Z.”

  “Cade,” Ezra said with a weary sigh. “You’ve spent the last two years fucking rotting away and wasting your life. You need to live.”

  Throwing an arm around my shoulder, he whispered, “Emily is fucking nuts about you, dude. Your girlfriend – the most beautiful girl in the school – adores you, you lucky bastard. She’s living, she’s breathing, and she’s here. In the flesh. Maybe you should focus on Emily or let someone who really cares have a fucking chance with her.”

  “I’m trying,” I confessed. “I am.”

  But I couldn’t help it.

  Losing Mackenzie felt like I’d lost a limb …

  ****

  Mackenzie

  October 5th, 2004

  “Sit!” the tall man with the black beard and ice-gray eyes ordered.

  I didn’t look to see what the others were doing.

  I simply dropped to my knees, bowed my head, and placed my hands behind my back.

  “Excellent,” Master purred, pulling on my chain, before rewarding my good behavior with a slice of apple. Kneeling at his feet, I gratefully ate from his hand, forcing my body to block out the smell of urine and sex from his fingers.

  The sound of girls sobbing, wailing and begging filled the room. I wished they would shut up. They would only bring trouble down on all of us. There was no point in begging. We were slaves. We had no rights. We were lower than dogs.

  If they wanted to stay out of the cells, they needed to learn that, and learn it quickly.

  ****

  Summer 2005

  Age 18

  Cade

  May 5th, 2005

  Emily and I had sex last night.

  After ten months of dating, she wanted a commitment from me, so I compromised by giving her my virginity. Sex was nothing like I thought it would be. It was nothing like the movies or magazines. Sex was awkward and clumsy, and condoms were a lot fucking harder to use on your fully erect dick than a banana in sex-ed.

  I felt dirty today – like I did something really bad.

  I knew why, but now I had to get up the courage to say goodbye ...

  I walked down to the creek rather than taking my bike. It felt more personal this way – a proper goodbye. And even though almost three years had passed since that fateful night I still found the spot where Mackenzie and I had kissed just as easily as if it had happened yesterday.

  Sinking to the ground, I wrapped my arms around my knees and took a steadying breath. “I miss you, Kenz,” I whispered into thin air. “I miss your hair and your smile, and those freckles on the bridge of your nose. I miss your smell and your laugh and the way you used to say my name. I miss everything that we were and everything we could’ve been …”

  Pressing my forehead against my knees, I forced the next few words from my mouth. “But I have to let you go now.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue but I needed to do this or I would never be able to move on with my life. “I’ve been dating Emily for a while now ... and it’s starting to get serious. Please don’t hate me for moving on …”

  ****

  Mackenzie

  May 6th, 2005

  Mary was dead.

  I found her body in the ‘medical room’ downstairs in the basement when Master sent me to check on her progress. She was gagged, her hands were bound to the table and she was lying in a pool of her own blood. I think I lost what tiny piece of my sanity that was left when I saw what was hanging lifelessly between her legs.

  I never knew Mary was pregnant.

  Master said that it was Mary’s own fault for not taking the medicine he gave us. But that’s what Master said about Caitlyn, Barbara, Denise and Letitia …

  Now it was just Hannah and I.

  I was frightened.

  I didn’t want to die on the table like the other girls, but I didn’t want to refuse my medicine and get sick either.

  I was a weak person. I was rotten inside. I had to be because I didn’t fight like the others girl. The other girls fought back, and I took my clothes off and did everything Master and his friends demanded without pause or hesitation. I did everything I was told, so I could stay out of the holding cells. Because most of the girls who went into the holding cells never came back out.

  I must be bad inside – evil.

  Master’s friends praised me and took turns with me, and I did as I was told.

  Wh
at was the matter with me?

  Why was I not fighting back?

  “The stars will have to wait … I need you on the ground with me …”

  Cade.

  “The stars will have to wait … I need you on the ground with me …”

  Cade.

  ****

  Winter 2005

  Age 18

  Mackenzie

  November 25th, 2005

  Something strange was happening.

  I had never been taken out of the nest before tonight. Never. I hadn’t been in a car since the night they took me from Cade, but I’d been in a car tonight.

  I think I knew where I was.

  I think I was back in Alabama.

  I didn’t understand why Master had taken me out of the nest. I didn’t understand what was happening or why we were inside this hotel room, but I didn’t dare ask.

  Instead, I remained motionless on my hands and knees with my head bent and my mouth gagged. Master and his friends continued to mock me and whip my naked skin with chains. Master had placed a collar around my neck and was walking me around the room. He called me his bitch. They called me his whore. I blinked away the tears that were filling my eyes and thought of Cade …

  “The stars will have to wait … I need you on the ground with me …”

  One man dropped to his knees in front of me and thrust his penis into my mouth.

  “The stars will have to wait … I need you on the ground with me …”

  Another man grabbed me from behind and forced his penis into my anus.

  “The stars will have to wait … I need you on the ground with me …”

  Pain coursed through me and I gagged as tears streamed down my face.

  “The stars will have to wait … I need you on the ground with me …”

  Another man pushed roughly into me.

  “The stars will have to wait … I need you on the ground with me …”

  This was my breaking point.

  I couldn’t do this anymore.

  I couldn’t ... and then something started to happen to me.

  For the first time in three years I started to fight back.

  I began to scream and I didn’t stop. I bit, kicked, screamed and scratched at the men forcing me.

  The men cursed and hit me, but I didn’t stop fighting them. I would rather die here on this hotel room floor than take another minute of their abuse. Now I knew why Mary took the beatings. Now I knew how she felt. I, too, would rather die than be treated like this.

  I would rather die than be repeatedly raped ...

  The door of the hotel room burst open and loud roaring and commands deafened me.

  The men released me and I collapsed on the floor before quickly rolling into the fetal position.

  “The stars will have to wait … I need you on the ground with me …”

  “Can you tell me your name?” someone asked me – someone with a kind voice and gentle hands.

  I couldn’t remember my name.

  “Pretty sunshine.”

  “Where do you live, honey? What is your address?” the voice asked.

  I lived in the heat. The hot, blistering heat …

  “The nest.”

  “Can you give me a name of a relative?”

  A name …

  “Anyone you can remember?” the voice persisted.

  “Cade,” I whispered. Cade … Cade … Cade …

  “Good,” the voice coaxed. “What’s Cade’s full name, honey?”

  “Don’t regret me … because I won’t ever regret you …”

  “Cade Mathews.”

  “It’s her,” the voice said excitedly. “Jesus Christ, Burke, it’s her. It’s Mackenzie Moore.”

  A blanket was placed over my naked body and I slowly opened my eyes.

  “We’ve been searching everywhere for you,” an African-American police officer with a kind smile told me. I realized that she was the owner of the voice.

  “We thought we lost you years ago, sweetheart.”

  ****

  Cade

  November 26th, 2005

  Emily was supposed to swing by my house after cheerleading practice. Football practice finished over an hour ago, and I was growing anxious. I had this weird energy buzzing inside of my body tonight. It felt like anticipation or excitement …

  Weird.

  I checked the time on the clock above the fireplace for the fiftieth time and sighed in frustration.

  Why was it that time passed excruciatingly slowly when you wanted it to go fast, but when you needed it to slow down it went by in the blink of an eye?

  Our house phone rang, stirring me from my reverie, and I reached across the counter to retrieve it. Picking the phone off its stand, I checked the screen before accepting the call and putting it to my ear.

  “Mom, what’s up?”

  “Oh Cade,” my mother cried. My heart shriveled inside of my chest. “It’s Mackenzie.” Time crawled to a slow, and I felt dead inside.

  “Where did they find her?” I managed to ask though my throat was dry as sandpaper. “How long has she been dead?”

  “No, Cade, baby, you’re misunderstanding me,” Mom wept. “They found Mackenzie alive, honey. She’s alive and well and in Birmingham, Alabama, as we speak.”

  Mackenzie is alive.

  She’s alive and well and in Birmingham …

  “Please tell me this isn’t a mistake,” I begged. I could hear the pain in my own voice. “Please.”

  I was terrified; terrified of getting my hopes up and having them crushed again.

  I couldn’t go through this again – losing Mackenzie.

  I wouldn’t be able to survive it twice …

  “There’s no mistake,” Mom assured me. “The police got a tip-off several weeks ago and they’ve cracked the case. Mackenzie was found in a hotel in the city earlier tonight. She’s safe, baby. The police phoned Mitch this evening. We’re driving to the city now. We booked into a hotel near the hospital for the night and are visiting Mackenzie in the morning.”

  “I’ll meet you guys up there,” I told my mother as I looked around franticly for the key of my motorcycle. “What hotel are you staying in?”

  “Cade,” my mother said, and I knew from the tone of her voice that she was about to say something I wouldn’t like hearing. “Kenzie is delicate right now ...”

  “You’ve just told me that my best friend has been found after three years. Do you really expect me to sit at home and wait?”

  “She was used in a brothel ring for three years, Cade,” I heard my mother wail. “You rushing into her hospital room all guns blazing won’t do anyone any favors. Besides, the doctors are only allowing Mitch in to see her.”

  “What do you want me to do?” I whispered.

  “Be patient,” Mom replied gently. “And give her father some time to get to know his daughter again.”

  “Did she say anything?” I choked out. “Has she …”

  “She said your name, Cade,” my mother replied in a worried tone. “The police told Mitch that Mackenzie has been chanting your name since they found her.”

  ****

  Part Three

  The reunion …

  Spring 2006

  Age 18

  Mackenzie

  February 5th, 2006

  My life changed when I was fifteen years old.

  One moment in time, one insignificant day in the grand scheme of things, altered the course of my future, poisoned my perspective of the human race, and put to rest every hope, dream, and desire I ever had.

  Everything that happened to me before that moment was irrelevant. Everything that happened to me since was meaningless. I was destroyed in the space of time it takes to put out the trash – in the space it takes to light a match, to ignite a flame. Ruined. Violated beyond repair.

  I had no goals, because I had no hope. Hope was lethal to people like me. Hope could drive a person to insanity. To incessantly believe things would get be
tter and improve was absolutely pointless. Being rational and accepting the hand you’ve been given was a wiser option …

  Last week my therapist asked me about my goals for the future. That’s the answer I wished I’d given her. Instead I’d spun some yarn about college courses and extracurricular activities because I wasn’t stupid and knew exactly what happened to girls like me.

  Girls who had been through what I had been through were either medicated or sectioned. I didn’t relish the thought of either being done to me, therefore I put up with my conscience when it called me a liar. Being a liar kept me alive all those years. Being a liar kept me alive in the nest. Being able to lie to yourself was a valuable tool – or in my case a life-saving attribute.

  The past three months I had spent inside St Mark’s facility had been some of the loneliest times in my life. I was lonely – desperately lonely –and spending six hours every day having three years worth of schoolwork shoveled down my throat was not helping matters. I wanted company, but apparently that was an abnormal request. I found myself constantly trying to discover ways to fill the void inside of me, the darkness, because schoolwork sure as hell wasn’t doing it for me.

  According to the statistics, a girl like me was supposed to be terrified of all things physical – because of what I had been through. I was supposed to fear men and shy away from physical touch. I knew I had to be broken inside, because I was the opposite of those statistics.

  I had to be broken, because I still desperately craved physical.

  I had tried explaining this – the way I feel and the urges I have – to Anna, my therapist, but she told me I was in shock. The nurses thought I was suffering from PTS. I wasn’t. I knew I wasn’t. I knew what was wrong with me, and it was worse than all those things. I was having withdrawals ...