by Nina Levine
My hand is a little shaky as I place the glass down and I quickly snatch it back and press it into my lap. My fingers fidget and I look down. “I went back to his hotel with him. He was older, maybe like twenty-eight or so. I don’t really know, but he was way more experienced than me. It started off amazing. He was so nice and seemed to want to make it good for me.” I meet her gaze again, trying like hell not to allow my tears to fall. “But then it wasn’t good. He got rough.” My first tear falls. I can’t control them anymore. Not when my memories are rushing at me like this. Not when my shame has taken over. “I told him I wasn’t into rough sex, but he told me just to go with it, that I’d like it by the time he was finished.” I have so many tears now I can barely see through them. I don’t bother wiping them away because I know more will replace them. Swallowing hard, I shake my head madly. “I can’t do this. Not today.” I stand. “I’m sorry.”
Without waiting for her to respond, I flee the room, rushing right past Holly and out the door. Taking the stairs faster than is safe, I reach the bottom and push through the front doors of the building to run outside. Gulping in fresh air like I need it to survive, I try to slow my racing heart. To stop the memories crashing into me, delivering unbearable shame and pain.
I can’t do this.
Not today, not ever.
It’s too much.
I’m drowning.
“Zara.”
I jump at Fury’s voice from behind, but I don’t turn to face him. He startled me so much my chest is tightening like it does when I have one of my paranoia episodes. I grip the railing in front of me and focus on my breaths, trying to get a handle on this before it turns into a full-blown attack.
“Zara, are you okay?” He’s not as loud this time, but his tone is urgent and that only heightens my emotions.
I spin around angrily, my mind a tangle of thoughts and feelings I can’t even begin to command. “Does it look like I’m okay? No! I’m not! But I don’t need you pretending to care when I would be nothing but a quick fuck to you. Just do your job and leave me alone.”
Stalking away from him, I head for my car. I know I should wait for Holly, and I will, once I get to my car. Right now, I just need to be as far from Fury as possible.
He has other ideas, however. Catching up to me, he grabs my arm and stops me. I immediately fight him off, yanking my arm from out of his hold. “What are you doing?”
His eyes flash with a “don’t fuck with me” vibe. “I’m doing my damn job. Give me your keys.”
I ignore all the warnings to just do as he says coming from him. “No. I can drive myself.”
“No, you can’t.” He holds out his hand. “Pass them over.”
I thrust my head forward, closer to him, and yell, “No! I’m not someone you can boss around, and I don’t have to do as you say!”
A storm of emotions thunders across his face. “I am someone who can boss you around. King gave me that power when he told me to protect you. And right fucking now you need protection.” His eyes drill into mine as he says in a low, forceful voice, “Hand your keys over, get in the car, and let me do my job.”
I’m not sure anymore if my heart is beating so hard and fast because of my session with the psychologist or because of Fury.
I want to tell him to fuck off, but I know that will be a waste of breath. If he’s nothing else, he’s stubborn and committed to his work. So I shove my keys at him and stalk the rest of the way to my car where I wait at the passenger door for him to let me in.
He’s almost reached me when Holly calls out, “Zara! Wait!”
“I’m okay, Holly. Unless you take into account the fact I have to deal with Fury.”
“Fucking hell,” he mutters, drawing close enough that I can smell his scent.
“You are so clearly not okay, Zar,” Holly says, reaching us. Her expression is a little frantic, which is so unlike her. Holly is the steady, unflappable one. She’s a bloody robot most of the time, not expressing emotion as easily as I do. “What happened in there?”
I glance at Fury who is the last person I want to be having this conversation in front of. He appears as keen as I am for it. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
That returns Holly to the person I know and love. “I am so sick of you saying that! If you don’t fucking talk about it, you’re not going to get better. Stop being so dumb, Zara.”
I already feel dumb; Holly calling me that only makes me feel a hundred times worse. Especially since she did so in front of the guy I like more than I care to admit. It causes all my defences to rise and nasty stuff to come out of my mouth. “Fuck you, Holly, and fuck this shit. I’m done with it all.”
With that, I push past her and walk away from them towards the car park exit.
“Yeah, that’s right, just leave when shit gets too hard for you,” Holly calls out. “It’s what you always do.”
Her words sting, but I’m too angry and hurt to stop and think about this rationally. All I want is to be as far from them both as possible. As far from my problems as possible.
Fury has other ideas, though. I’m barely ten steps away when his arm comes around my waist and he pulls me up off the ground and carries me back to the car. “God-fucking-damn, Zara, get your ass in this fucking car and do something smart. Whatever the hell just happened inside clearly fucked you up, so the last place you should be right now is out on the streets by yourself.”
I struggle against him, but my strength is no match for his and he manages to get me in the car. He straps me in with a firm, “Don’t fucking move or so help me, you won’t like what happens next.”
He’s reached a whole new level of pissed off with me and is so firm and hard that I do as he says. Besides, the rush of wild energy I experienced that caused me to fire up at him and Holly has subsided, leaving me feeling exhausted. I just want to go home, shut myself in my room, and sleep this off.
Fury and Holly have a quick conversation and then he gets in the car with me and we take off towards home. I lean against the door, shifting so my body faces away from Fury, and close my eyes. Neither of us talks for the duration of the trip, and when we reach my house, I exit the car with a quick “Thank you,” and make my way into my bedroom.
I’ve had twenty minutes on the way home to process everything that happened after I left the psychologist and I now feel like the biggest idiot on the planet. It’s no wonder Fury thinks of me the way he does; I spend my days fighting against all the people who are trying to help me and in the process make some stupid choices. And yet, I can’t find it in me to stop. I’m so up and down that one minute I’m all for what they’re suggesting, and the next, when the fear and paranoia and shame hit, I just want to flee, to escape all the hard feelings and thoughts. I want to do anything that will make me feel good again, and that never involves talking about what I’m going through.
14
Zara
* * *
I sleep for a few hours and feel better when I wake. I know nothing has changed, but it’s like my outburst, or maybe just starting to open up with the psychologist, helped release something inside me, leading me to think different thoughts. Better thoughts.
I need to stop being a victim and start taking charge. So I’m going to.
Holly is banging around in the kitchen. I can hear the sound of pots and pans as well as her swearing. I need to apologise to her before I do anything else, so I drag myself out of bed and traipse out to the kitchen.
She slows as she sees me come in. “How are you feeling, grumpy?”
I run my fingers through my hair and slide onto a stool at the counter. “A little better.”
“Good. Did you call Mum to let her know you went?”
“Yes.” I pause, trying to figure out exactly what I want to say to her, but decide I have no idea except I really just need to apologise for being a bitch. “I’m sorry, Hols. I lost my shit and said stuff and did stuff I regret. And as much as I wish I could say I won’t do it again, I p
robably will, because I suck at life right now.”
My sister isn’t one for letting me get away with making bullshit excuses for my behaviour, so she’s quick to pull me into line. “Zar, you don’t suck at life; you suck at calming the fuck down and thinking things through before getting all hot-headed and making crappy choices. And if you keep telling yourself you suck, your brain will start believing it, so stop that shit.” She softens and adds, “Also, give yourself a break; you went through something awful and that’s going to take some time to get over.”
I nod as I glance around the kitchen, noting the meal she’s making for dinner. “Do we have visitors coming over?”
“One visitor. Jackie. I’m making a roast, and I’ll have heaps of veggies for you.”
Jackie is her current girlfriend. Holly dates a lot and doesn’t generally keep her girlfriends for long, but Jackie has been around for just over a month, so I’m thinking Holly must really like her. I’ve met her a few times and I like her, but having dinner with the two of them isn’t something I want to do. The last time I saw them together, they were all over each other, and I’m not in the mood for that tonight.
“Don’t worry about cooking for me. I’m going to go out.”
“Where?”
“I think I might go see a movie.” The local cinema always has half-price movies on a Tuesday night.
“Are you sure you’re in the right frame of mind to be alone? I can call Jackie and tell her not to come over if you want. We could watch a movie together.”
I hop off the stool with a shake of my head. “No, I’m good.”
“Zara,” she says, a slight warning tone in her voice, “Going out by yourself at night might be a trigger. Is it wise to put yourself in that kind of situation yet?”
Ignoring the uncertainty swirling in my tummy, I say, “I think maybe I need to do this. Maybe forcing myself to face the fear will be good for me. And besides, Fury or one of the guys will be close by if I need them.” Not that I’ll ever ask Fury for help, but knowing a familiar face is close will help me feel safe.
She nods slowly. “Okay.”
I can tell she’s not convinced at all. “Hols, it’s not like I’ll be walking the streets like I was that night. I’m going to park close to the door of the cinemas. I’ll be safe.”
“Make sure you check your surroundings at all times,” she calls out as I head out of the kitchen.
This is the thing no one gets; I’m always checking my surroundings. It’s become an obsessive habit I can’t shut off. Before I get in my car, I check in the windows to make sure there’s no one in there. Before I get out of the car, I scan the area to see who’s around. I keep an eye on anyone who comes into my line of sight anywhere I go. I check every room and cupboard in the house whenever I come home to make sure no one is hiding anywhere. If I’m home alone, I have a knife close by at all times. And the list goes on. I’ve turned into a nervous wreck since the night I was mugged, and it’s exhausting. I need to find a way out of this hell and I’ve read how exposing yourself to the situations you fear can help overcome the fear, so I’m hopeful going out tonight by myself might help.
I shower and wash my hair. I then choose a long flowing red dress to wear, curl my long hair into loose beach waves, and apply some make-up. I take more time with any of this than I’ve taken in the two months since I was mugged. I’ve felt a need to do whatever I can to take attention off myself since then. The day of the barbeque at the clubhouse was the first day in a long time I wanted attention back on me. I wanted Fury’s attention. I wore a prettier dress than I’ve chosen in months and dressed it with jewellery. It felt good to do that. Tonight, after the shitty day I’ve had, I want to feel good about myself, and the thing I’ve realised is that although I’ve been desperate to shut off my femininity—the part of myself I blame for all the things that happened that night—it doesn’t serve me to do that. I’ve been so up and down, not only because of the emotions strangling me, but also because I’ve stopped being me.
I really liked Fury and his attention. And even if it wasn’t real, it drew me out of my shell. Out of the shell I’ve put myself in for months. Being around him reminded me of the good parts of myself. It reminded me I like to laugh and have a good time. I like to flirt with guys. I like to feel pretty and good about myself. And fuck it if any of those things don’t fit into what others think are worthwhile characteristics; they help make up the person I am. And I’m really starting to think that if I have any hope of fixing what’s wrong with me, I need to cling to me.
After saying goodbye to Holly, I head into the garage and reverse out. I expect to see Fury outside, but I don’t. I don’t see anyone out there. Reversing onto the street, I come to a stop and check all around me; there’s not one club member in sight.
My hands grip the steering wheel tighter, my fear slowly bubbling up. My paranoia, too. That asshole kicks into top gear, sending a stream of unhelpful thoughts through my mind. I imagine everything from Fury being hurt, to me being targeted next, to Holly being hurt if I leave her home alone, to Fury deciding I’m not worth protecting anymore, to a million other scenarios.
Stop!
For God’s sake, just fucking stop.
I can’t take it anymore.
I take a deep breath and exhale it before pulling my phone out and calling King.
“Zara,” he answers on the first ring, “What’s up?”
“Sorry to bug you—”
“Fuck, what’s wrong?” I hear the worry in his voice and wish I hadn’t called him. He’s busy in Melbourne; the last thing he needs is me causing him concern.
Doing my best to pull all the fear from my voice, I say, “No, nothing’s wrong. I was just wondering who’s gonna be watching me tonight.”
“Fuck, I should have called to let you know. The threat turned out to be false. You don’t need to worry about any of it now.”
“Oh… okay…. That’s good.” Shit.
“You sure you’re okay? You sound off.”
“Yeah. Sorry, I had a bad day. But I’m okay.”
“Lily told me you had a bad appointment today. When’s your next one?”
“Next Tuesday.” I booked a heap of weekly appointments the first time I went, and as much as I hate them, and as much as today’s was awful, I know I need to just keep showing up. When I’m not in the thick of it all, I can rationally agree that this is the thing I need to do. It’s only when all my feelings are heightened and I can’t think straight that I react by deciding the opposite. Somehow, I need to find the middle, calm ground and make all my decisions from there. But that’s a problem for another day. Right now I just need to get through tonight.
“Good,” he says. “I’m proud of you, Zara.”
Oh God.
When King says stuff like that, it’s huge for me. He’s not the kind of man to give away sentiments, so when he does, it hits me in the feels. He’s told me twice now that he’s proud of me. The other time was the night of my high school graduation award ceremony. After getting terrible grades all the way up until the end of grade ten, I worked hard to pull them up, and I succeeded. In year twelve, I achieved the highest mark in history for our year and received an award for it. I’d been so proud of myself, and couldn’t wait for my parents to watch me walk across that stage to receive the award. Especially my father. After all, I’d aimed to bring my grades up in order to get his attention mostly. When I’d learned he wouldn’t be attending that ceremony, I was devastated. And I’d felt like an unwanted child, which was ridiculous because Mum and King were always there for me, always showing me they loved me. When King pulled me aside right before we left for the ceremony that night and told me he was proud of me and that he’d seen the work I put in for two years, it was the moment I decided he would be the one I turned to as my father going forward.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice wobbly. “I love you, King.”
“I love you, too. Now, tell me if there’s anything I need to be con
cerned about, because if I find out shit’s going down and you’re not doing well, and I don’t know about it, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”
I swallow my emotions. This is King being soppy and it means everything to me. “I’m struggling, yes, but I think I’m starting to get my head around stuff. I promise there’s nothing for you to be concerned about.”
“You call me if you need shit. I should be home early next week.”
“I will.”
He ends the call without a goodbye. He never ends a call with one and I don’t think he ever will. But it doesn’t bother me, because that’s just King.
I place my phone on the passenger seat and put both hands on the steering wheel.
I can do this.
I don’t need anyone with me to feel safe.
Deep breath.
I’m going to do this.
I press my foot to the pedal and drive, focusing on my breathing and my thoughts. It takes some hardcore work to push the paranoid thoughts away, but I manage to make it the cinema complex without turning around and going back home.
Putting the car in park, I kill the engine and survey the car park. Although it’s almost 8:30 p.m. and dark out, it’s well lit. I can’t see anyone around, but my thoughts take me to the mental place where I believe people are hiding behind pillars, waiting to attack me.
Fuck.
Why can’t I just be normal again?
Deep breath.
My hands are shaky as I reach for my purse.
I fumble with my phone when I try to pick it up.
Fucking hell.
I slam my head back against the seat, my heart racing, my chest tight, my tears falling.
Why did I go out that night?
Why did I go to that hotel with that guy?
Why the fuck did I do something as dumb as leaving a hotel and walking the streets alone after midnight?
I madly wipe my tears and suck air into my lungs.