by LK Shaw
“Your beauty impresses me, Phebe.” The man’s foreign- accented English was harsh and guttural. He rose from his chair and walked a path from one side of the bed to the other, his eyes roving over every inch of my naked form pausing at my breasts and my sex before continuing their journey. His eyes now glowed with arousal. A sick feeling settled in my stomach.
“Who are you? How do you know my name?” I asked, shakily.
“I know much of you. For me, I am Vlad. You may call me Korol’.”
“Korol’?” My mouth sounded out the unfamiliar word.
He approached the bed and when he sat sideways on the edge, with one bent knee resting next to me and the other braced on the floor, I tried scooting away from him, but my restraints made movement impossible. I flinched when he reached out to caress my cheek. “You Americans say ‘king’. Is good. You shall be my queen.”
Confusion, and a hint of dread, at his words filled me. “I don’t understand. Where am I?”
“Where you belong. For the moment. I train you properly, then we go to my home in St. Petersburg.”
Trained me properly? St. Petersburg? None of this made sense. “You’ve made a mistake. I don’t belong here. Please, let me go.”
“Not possible, malen’kaya igrushka. I own you now.”
His words only brought more questions. My brain was so focused on puzzling out what he was saying, I failed to hear the door open. That is until he spoke again.
“Ah, Dima, have you come to inspect my prize?”
My head quickly snapped in the opposite direction as the intruder stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. My eyes widened in fear and I struggled anew as the man slowly began disrobing, neatly folding his clothes and placing them on the vanity table near the head of the bed where I lay. I turned back to Vlad, Korol’, whatever his name was. His eyes remained fixed on mine, a sadistic light turning them as black as midnight.
“Please, don’t do this.”
Ignoring my plea, he reached out to caress my cheek again, only this time, he didn’t stop there. He traced a path down to my breasts and cupped each one, weighing them in his giant hands as I struggled to free myself from his grasp. I screeched as he slapped first one, then the other. He pinched the sensitive tips, causing pain to shoot through me.
“Stop, please.” Tears freely fell down my temples disappearing into my hair spread out beneath me. I breathed a sigh of relief when he seemed to listen to my pleas. He rose from his perch on the edge of the bed and remained standing, staring down at me.
“I train you now, malen’kaya igrushka.”
The bed dipped again, only this time from the weight of the other man, Dima. He moved over me as my screams began. I thrashed and bucked, doing everything in my power to push him off me, but I was powerless against him. I locked eyes with the man, Korol’, standing over us and as I attempted one more time to beg for him to stop what was about to happen, my words were abruptly cut off. A pain unlike any other ripped through me. An agonized wail escaped as Dima pushed deep inside me over and over again, violating my body, my spirit.
“It begins, little toy.”
I finished my recitation, emotionally detached from the memory. I had to force myself to remain dispassionate or the remembrance would eviscerate me. But, now it was out. The giant elephant in the room. From the moment Webber had found me on that cell floor, everyone had managed to tiptoe around the unspoken truth of what happened during my captivity. I’d given the least amount of information to the cops that would satisfy them, only confirming their questions about whether I’d been assaulted or not. When they wanted to send me to the hospital, I refused. I didn’t want anyone looking at me or touching me in that way.
Sending the barest glance in Donovan’s direction, I saw exactly what I expected to see. Anger. Horror. Pity.
“Jesus.”
“Sorry about that—episode—back there by the way.” I shrugged a little sheepishly. Nothing like going bat shit crazy on someone.
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Donovan snapped, his blue eyes darkening with anger. I instinctively took a step back. He noticed my movement and scowled, but didn’t say anything about it. “You have nothing to apologize for. It’s no wonder your brain shuts down sometimes when the memories become too much if those are the kind of memories you have. The torment you suffered. I’m so sorry you went through that, Phebe.”
I waved off his pity. “Um, do you mind if we cut this Q & A session short today? I know you need me—”
He broke off my request. “God, of course. Underwood hasn’t even been arraigned yet. It’s going to be a few weeks, at least, before the case even goes to trial, so we have plenty of time to go over evidence in the case. Get some rest. Your appointment with Madeline is tomorrow. Which can’t come any sooner. You need to talk to her, Phebe. Get that shit out of your head. Don’t let it control you. You're stronger than that.”
Absently, I nodded at his words and turned back to the house. I headed straight to the en suite bathroom and stripped off my clothes, attending to my thrice daily ritual of trying to wash away his touch. When the water temp reached tolerable, I stepped inside and turned the water even hotter, hissing at the heat as it scalded my pale skin. I scrubbed and scrubbed until I started to bleed. Only then did I shut off the water, replace the multiple layers of clothes I always wore, turn off the light, and crawl under the covers, my hand reaching under the pillow to clutch the knife buried there. I fell into an exhausted sleep, praying the nightmares stayed away, but not holding out much hope.
Phebe
I’d tossed and turned in the throes of nightmares all night so when I woke up that morning I felt even more like shit than I usually did. My stomach churned knowing where I was headed that afternoon. After crawling out of bed and showering I headed outside for my daily walk around the yard. After a few rounds, I plopped into my favorite yellow chair by the pond and watched my fish friends swim. As I sat there trying not to actually think about anything, believe it or not, I started wishing for a little company. Or at least something to occupy my mind.
Bridget had brought me some books and some crossword puzzle and word searches, but I hadn’t really had the focus to pick any of them up yet. Never in my life had I ever felt so alone. My mind drifted more often than not to Donovan and that little “tug” I felt every time he looked at me. I tried ignoring it for more than one reason.
First, and foremost, was that I was damaged goods and didn’t deserve to be loved, nor did I think I had the capacity to love. Everything he had done to me broke me in some way. I had no idea if I’d ever recover. The thought of someone touching me had me sick to my stomach.
Except, a little voice inside me whispered, you didn’t feel sick yesterday once you realized it was Donovan with his arms wrapped around you.
I’d actually felt slightly more at ease. His strength almost infused itself inside me.
Second, was that I was Donovan’s key witness, and he hadn’t shown the slightest bit of interest in me beyond that fact. Not that I wanted him to. See reason number one.
Regardless, I couldn’t help analyzing this draw. Sure, he was good looking, but there were a lot of handsome men out there. He had something extra. I couldn’t put my finger on it though.
Remembering Donovan’s words, I forced myself to eat. When my stomach started growling, I headed back inside to find something to make. Granted, it was just a hamburger, but it was surprisingly good. I even found some frozen french fries in the freezer. Before I knew it, several hours had passed. I’d just opened a book to try and read when the back door opened.
The dread settled deep in my gut again when I saw Bridget standing there.
“Hey.” Her eyes widened in surprise when I greeted her first with a small wave.
She recovered quickly though, and pasted a huge smile on her face. It made her even more beautiful. “Hi, yourself. I’m your chauffeur today. Aren’t you excited? Oh, good, you already ate. I was worried. I was all
ready to run through a drive through for you even though damn, that stuff will kill you. So, are you ready? I’m not trying to rush you or anything.”
Apparently, I’d shocked Bridget into rambling. I couldn’t help but smile a little.
“Holy fucking shit, did you just smile?” She sounded almost appalled. “Who the hell are you and what did you do with Phebe?”
Unconsciously, I flipped her the bird.
Laughter burst out of her, the tinkling sound echoing around us. “I don’t know what you did with the other Phebe, but I sure do like this one.” Her expression turned serious again. “I hope she sticks around.”
She cleared her through before speaking again. “I’ll be inside waiting. We really do need to leave in the next five minutes though.”
She turned back inside and I took one more look at my fish before I followed, feeling a little lighter. That was, until we reached Dr. Parrish’s office.
God, I was going to vomit and we’d just arrived. Bridget sat next to me, reading a fashion magazine, oblivious to my inner turmoil. She hummed some snappy tune, completely absorbed in the article she was reading. I appreciated the fact that she didn’t try and tell me everything was going to be okay, but I also hated that fact that she left me alone. Especially after our little interaction before heading here. It felt like she was a real friend. I could count on less than one hand the number of true friends I possessed. Plus, I’d gotten used to her chattering and the silence, minus the humming, coming from her was disconcerting.
I fidgeted in my seat, my palms sweaty, the deep feeling of dread growing larger in my gut. That icky sensation you get when you’re asked to stand in front of an audience of thousands and give a speech. That icky feeling you get when you’ve disappointed someone and you don’t know how to make it right. It was heavy inside me. Now, it was threatening to explode out of me. And not in a good way. In a horribly bad way. I swallowed the saliva pooling in my mouth and kept the vomit at bay.
I almost leapt out of my skin when the inner door opened and out stepped a woman that could only be described as a sprite. Her dark brown hair was pinned up with tendrils framing her face. Her tortoise-shelled glasses were large and accentuated her kind eyes. She couldn’t have been much over five feet tall and maybe weighed a hundred pounds. To call her tiny would have been an exaggeration. She was dressed in a classy navy silk blouse with puffed long sleeves that buttoned at her wrists and a white and navy pinstriped, knee length pencil skirt. Tucked behind one of her ears was a pencil. She was the epitome of every college boy’s sexy professor fantasy.
“Miss Lawson, I’m Madeline Parrish. Why don’t you come on back?” Her smile was open and friendly as she encouraged me to follow her.
“Do I have time to run a quick errand, Maddie?” Bridget piped up as I stood from my chair. “If not, that’s perfectly fine. I want to make sure I’m here when you and Phebe are finished.”
“I’d go ahead and stay, Bridge. Miss Lawson and I will just start getting to know each other today.”
Maddie? Bridge? My eyes bounced back and forth between the two of these women who obviously knew each other well. I wasn’t sure if this was weird or not.
“No problem. Good luck.” Bridget gave me a smile and a wave as I followed Dr. Parrish through the door, not sure if the luck was being sent my way or the doctor’s.
“Thank you for coming today. I know it probably wasn’t easy for you.” Dr. Parrish spoke over her shoulder as she led me down a short hall to the last room on the right. She waved me in and then followed me inside the office, closing the door behind her.
I took the closest chair, a large, fluffy brown leather one that almost swallowed me it was so big. But, it was remarkably comfortable. Dr. Parrish took her place behind her desk and leaned down to turn on a white noise machine at her feet. She settled in, picked up a pen, and straightened the notebook in front of her.
“Today, I just want to get to know you a little bit. Nothing too scary, I promise. You can talk as little or as much as you need to. Everything we do in here will be at your pace. I may push just a little, because I want to help you, but you’re still in complete and total control. Okay?” Her friendly smile was meant to put me at ease.
“I haven’t been in control of anything for a long time.”
“Why don’t you tell me about the last time you did feel in control about something.”
I pondered Dr. Parrish’s question for a bit. She didn’t rush me to answer. There was no sighs of impatience, no tapping her pen or fingers on the desk, no fidgeting. She remained perfectly poised and still while she waited.
“Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been in control of anything in my life.”
“That can’t be true. We’re all in control of something, especially the decisions we make or generally, our emotional reaction to things that happen. So, tell me the last time you felt in control.”
“I guess it would be when I decided I was leaving Kieran. I was taking back control of my life. Although, that didn’t work out as well as I’d planned.” I couldn’t help the bitter laugh.
“Why didn’t it work out?”
Surely she didn’t just ask me that? Did she not know where I spent the last two months and how I got there?
“Maybe because he drugged me and gave me to men who held me captive and repeatedly raped me!” My voice rose with each word, hysteria almost taking over. My breath came in short pants and I squeezed my eyes tightly shut as I tried to stop the memories from spilling forth. My jaw ached from clenching my teeth to stop the scream from escaping and my nails bit into my palms as I squeeze my fists closed. The pain helped to keep me centered. Once I pushed the memories away, I breathed a little easier.
“I’m sorry that happened to you, Phebe. It’s true you had no control over that situation, but it doesn’t mean you can’t get it back.” Dr. Parrish said with confidence.
“How am I supposed to do that? I’m plagued with nightmares. I can’t seem to wash his touch off my body no matter how many times I take a shower. His face and voice haunt me; mock me with the pain he caused. I have flashbacks. Of how he broke me. When the memories become too much, my mind shuts down. I go somewhere else.”
Dr. Parrish, who’d been jotting down notes on her pad, stopped her scribbling and peered up at me. “You said ‘they’ raped you, yet only the memory of one man seems to terrorize you.”
My mouth snapped closed and I sank farther down into the chair, my arms crossed over my chest effectively shutting her out as I turned my head away.
She sighed softly in frustration. “I can’t help you if you don’t open up to me, Phebe. You have all the classic symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD. You’re not alone with experiencing them. The key is managing the symptoms. There are techniques I can teach you to do this. I’m not saying that these symptoms will go away, although they should lessen with time, but you can learn to control them.”
I didn’t just want to control them; I wanted them gone. Of course, I couldn’t be so lucky as to make them disappear.
“Tell me about something that makes you happy.” Dr. Parrish spoke, breaking through my pensiveness.
“My photography,” I answered, instantly. Nothing had made me happier than when I got lost making art. All my troubles seemed to have faded away when I was behind my camera. Everything but the object or person of my focus faded when I peered through the view finder. I was transported to a whole other world. A world where nothing mattered but what I was photographing. It was freeing.
“I know you were only recently found and are only beginning to deal with your trauma, but have you thought about picking up a camera again? To try and grasp that euphoric feeling you used to experience? I know your ordeal is not something you’ll ever forget, but if you can escape the memories, even if for only a moment, it can help in your recovery. It’s a matter of finding a measure of happiness again.”
The thought of holding my camera in my hands again was bittersweet. My
heart ached knowing Kieran had most likely destroyed everything I owned, including my camera. I’d bought an inexpensive one to use for teaching, but the camera Muriel had given me was my most prized possession. One I’d cherished, not only because it represented freedom, but because it spoke of my deep and abiding friendship with one of the most amazing woman I’d ever known. A woman who was like a mother to me.
“No, but even if I wanted to, I don’t have a camera anymore. So, it’s a moot point.”
“I’m sure there are any number of people who would be happy to find you a camera if it meant making you happy. Or at least happier.”
My fingers itched at the thought of holding that piece of equipment again. I ignored the feeling. I didn’t deserve to be happy. Not anymore.
“No, I don’t want it.” In reality, I knew I sounded like a petulant child.
Dr. Parrish sighed softly. “Okay, here’s what I want you to do between now and our next session. I want you to practice some coping mechanisms. If you feel yourself getting anxious or a panic attack beginning, I want you to go to a quiet room and focus on something in that room, taking in deep, calming breaths. Think about inhaling the good and blowing out the bad. In through your nose and out your mouth. Think about that favorite picture you took and remember why you love it. Is it the colors? The light? The angle? The subject? What is it about that picture that makes it your favorite and remember that. I also want you to journal how many attacks and nightmares you have. You don’t have to write down what they were about. Yet. Just the number you have between now and when you return.”
God, that all sounded painful. Which was why I didn’t want to come here in the first place. When I hesitated, Dr. Parrish’s firm voice brokered no arguments. “I want you to do this, Phebe.” She softened her next word. “Please.”
I nodded my head. “Are we through?”
She rose from her chair so I followed suit. “We’re done for the day, yes. Please think about what I said. I’m here to help you, Phebe. You can overcome this. You’re strong. Remember that.”