Incomplete

by Eliza Park

  I spun in my chair, “Don’t tell me you aren’t going to take advantage of all the good things being a football player has to offer? Isn’t that what it’s all about?”

  Brody straightened, his mouth set in a disapproving line, “No, it’s about sportsmanship.”

  I laughed, but he was serious.

  “Listen, boy genius,” he said, “I’m here on a scholarship. Being good at football is what got me here and a good four years will earn me a spot on a pro team.”

  I held my hands up defensively, “But it’s gotta be a little about the parties, right?”

  Brody smiled and shook his head, “You hopeless, man.”

  I turned back to my desk, knowing I should pull out my books and do some homework. “What do you think about these rumors about James?”

  Recently our QB1 had been involved in some worrying stories regarding Greek Week and his fraternity’s initiation ceremony. As a senior, James was head of his fraternity, or some bullshit, and their hazing rituals had gotten out of hand. The parents of two particular students were seeking legal action against the school and calling for James to be arrested. I didn’t know the full story, only that whatever happened was bad enough to get reported, and he always had this creepy ass smile on his face.

  Brody turned the page in his book and sighed, “I don’t know. Doesn’t matter how good he is if he’s going around torturing people. And if he gets kicked off, we’ll be stuck with your sorry ass.”

  “Hey, I’ve been practicing.”

  “Yeah, I know, but you’ve never played before. And I want to win.”

  I sighed, “I know. I suck.”

  Brody shook his head, “You don’t suck, man, you just don’t know what you’re doing yet.”

  He was right. Practices had been going really well, and we’d had one scrimmage so far. I wasn’t terrible, but I had a lot of studying to do on tactical plays and defensive maneuvers before I played in a real game, which probably wouldn’t be until next year anyway.

  Brody turned to me, “Does your bougie ass need a compliment or something? You’re bumming me out.”

  I frowned, “A compliment would be nice.”

  He made a tsking sound and turned back to his books, “Man get the fuck out of here.”

  “I work so hard, Brody, if you could just ask me about my day every now and then—.”

  “You shut your ass up.”

  Snickering, I grabbed my bag off my bed and tossed my books onto the desk. I was going to be up late again tonight.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket.

  Mia: I had fun tonight ;) miss u already

  I frowned and didn’t respond, wondering if I needed to slow it down with her. I turned to Brody, “I think Mia might be getting the wrong idea.”

  Without looking up, Brody answered, “She’s crazy. I knew it the moment I saw her. You going to regret her in a week.”

  I already do.

  Chapter 17

  Celeste

  For a time, things between Eli and I were normal. He visited me almost nightly, and we continued to have short bursts of unsatisfying sex. Sometimes he would stay with me and we would sleep next to each other, and sometimes he would put his clothes on, kiss me chastely on the forehead and leave through the window before I had a chance to talk.

  I tried on a few occasions to slow him down, raking my hand down his body and slowly gripping his cock. Once I straddled him, wanting to control the short thrusts he spent inside of me before releasing. It seemed to make him uncomfortable and in one quick, bumbling movement, he’d taken over again. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d orgasmed, and I was starting to wonder how long it would take for this relationship to become more enjoyable. In the halls, he was the perfect boyfriend. He held my hand, walked me to classes. Every now and then he’d bring up talking to my dad and I’d tense up, worried that my response would anger him again.

  No, I hadn’t told my dad.

  No, I’m sure he wouldn’t care.

  And over and over again I apologized.

  It was just beginning to get chillier outside and with the change in weather came a change in my understanding of things. I was starting to get foggy again. I was sure I had been taking the right medications, but I must have messed them up. It was getting harder to keep them straight.

  Eli was stressed more than usual. He’d been sending applications around the world to different colleges with good soccer reputations, something I knew nothing about. As a result, he’d have bouts of anger that were just as short as our sex life. Once, he caught me texting Maverick and he threw his economics book across my dorm. It hit the wall with a loud thud and by the time it had fallen to the ground, the spine broken, pages rumpled, he’d calmed down again. He apologized shortly after, saying he was just jealous, and wrapping me up in his embrace. I could hear his heartbeat through his sweater, loud and strong.

  One night he fell through my bedroom window with a crash, cursing in Spanish, the cool fall air falling in with him. I closed the window as he straightened and turned to me, the look on his face freezing me with a strange terror. His eyebrows were drawn together, eyes black with rage. I shivered, but not from the evening chill. “Are you okay?” I asked, my voice gentle.

  Elliott grabbed me by the arm and forced me away from the window, pulling the curtains closed behind me. I rubbed my arm, surprised at how strong his grip was. “Do you want me to get caught? Jesus fuck, Celeste stay away from the fucking window.”

  Stunned, I tugged at my sweater. “Sorry, I didn’t think.”

  “Yeah, you never fucking think, do you? Too busy spending all your dad’s money and popping pills.” He paced angrily away from the window, tearing off his coat and throwing it onto the couch.

  I’d never seen him act like this, and it was making me nervous. I stayed silent, not quite sure what to do but knowing it would probably pass soon. He took a few deep breaths, and when his terrorizing gaze fell back on me, he shrugged his shoulders, an ounce of calmness returning to his stance. “I’m sorry, Celeste. I just got some really bad news.”

  “Um, it’s okay.” I offered, “What happened?”

  He scowled, pacing around the room, “I got a rejection letter from Chapel Hill.”

  “Oh, shit, Eli, I’m so sorry.” I walked over him and placed a hand on his arm in comfort, “There are other schools though, any soccer team would be lucky to have you.”

  He observed me for a moment, expression unreadable, “I don’t think you get it, Celeste. That school was an NCAA Division 1 university. There are only ten of those in the country and if I don’t get a scholarship, I don’t get to go.” His low voice was unsettling.

  I removed my hand, feeling suddenly unsafe. He was looking at me strangely, like a lion preying on a lame zebra. “I’m sorry, Eli. I’m sure you’ll get into another one.”

  He glowered, “You’ll never fucking understand, will you?” He turned his long body to me and started to walk slowly forward.

  “I don’t know why you’re mad at me,” I said quietly, retreating. “I haven’t done anything.”

  I saw the back of his tan hand before I felt it connect with a loud smack against my cheek. I stumbled to the side, tears pricking my eyes as my hand involuntarily went to cover my reddening cheek. I straightened, shocked, but he didn’t give me the chance to recover, shoving me roughly backwards onto the bed. “That’s just it, isn’t it? You haven’t done anything.” He was mocking me, his voice completely unrecognizable with anger. He straddled me, lifting me roughly by the arms and pushing me up onto the mattress. I held my hands up over my face, wondering if he was going to slap me again but he just sat there, hands wrapped tightly around my upper arm. I opened my eyes to look up at him and he was smirking down at me. “You know what you can do for me, Celeste?”

  I didn’t answer, unsure of what would trigger another attack. In just a few quick movements, he lifted up my skirt and tore down my tights, tossing them to the floor of my room. I kept my hands u
p, scooting away from him as he crawled up to me on the bed, “Eli,” I whispered frantically, “Please no.”

  His grin was malicious as he slapped me across the face again, hard enough to spring stars into my vision. “Oh, yes, Celeste. And don’t pretend like you aren’t going to enjoy every moment. You’ve been obsessed with me for years, and I’m going to give you what you really want.” I heard the rip of my underwear and started kicking, my vision still blurry. Another slap, harder this time, and my ears were ringing. He took both of my wrists in one large hand and held them above my head, a growl in his voice, “Don’t move or I’ll make it worse for both of us.”

  He spread my legs apart and I closed my eyes, wondering if I should just let him do it so I wouldn’t have to suffer through more of a beating. I opened my eyes at the sound of his zipper being undone, watching through a blurry gaze as he stroked his penis with his other hand. He bent down to push into me, and I realized with dread that he wasn’t going to use a condom.

  I pulled against his hands, taking him by surprise and elbowing him in the shoulder. He grunted in pain and put his free hand to my throat, squeezing tightly against my esophagus. I tried to scream, unable to even breathe, and kicked my legs, trying as hard as I could to get a knee or an ankle or a foot under him. His grip tightened and my vision started to turn, panic rising as I realized he could very easily kill me tonight. I stopped struggling and his hold released a little, allowing me to take a much-needed breath of air.

  He shoved into me then, his hand moving to cover my mouth as I cried out from the physical and emotional pain. I wasn’t ready for him, my body was tight and cold with terror and I could feel him ripping me apart at the seams with each thrust. I closed my eyes, tears leaking down the sides of my face and into my pillow. My heart tore in large strips behind my ribs, parts of it sinking into my stomach until my chest was an empty cavity, aching for reason. He was done after a few very long minutes, emptying himself inside of me and then resting his head against mine. One small mercy, I thought, was that he never lasted more than a few minutes. He rolled off of me then and I didn’t move, knowing I should probably get up and shower his semen out of me in the next twenty minutes if I had even the slimmest chance of not getting pregnant. He put his hand over my lower stomach, a smile on his face. His eyes were a lighter shade of brown, the satisfaction of his misdeed evident, and it made me want to vomit all over his face.

  “Well, if I don’t get into a school, at least I’ll have a position ready on any major league soccer team in the world with this little guy.”

  I stared up at the ceiling, finally understanding. Had this been his plan from the beginning? Eli had no idea just how little my dad actually cared about me. I’d tried to explain before but by now I knew it was futile. The deed had been done. Could I ask Elin for another Plan B pill? How often could I take them before completely screwing up my body? Grateful it was over, shock of what had just occurred washed over me from head to toe. The spot between my legs hurt but the pain was ebbing away. I thought about moving to go to the bathroom but was too petrified in case he hit me again. My heart started hammering in my chest, wondering if he’d do it again before leaving or if I would be safe once he left, if he left.

  He rolled over me, climbing off the bed as I lay there frozen with terror. “I trust we have an understanding here, Celeste.”

  I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bring myself to turn my head and see the face I’d once thought was so irresistibly good looking. I also had no idea what he meant. What was I supposed to understand about being raped? The word sent a numbing chill down my spine.

  “We want the same things here, baby. You want your dad’s attention and so do I. And this is how we’ll get it.”

  I definitely didn’t want my dad’s attention. Not anymore. And certainly not from something like this. I wondered briefly if there was a clause against teenage pregnancy in my trust fund allowance and almost laughed, hysteria bubbling in my stomach. Wouldn’t that be a sweet deal for Eli? All this trouble just to lose everything at the flick of a non-committal wrist from my father. He would dismiss us and any unborn child like he did all of his employees, without so much as a word.

  Elliott spoke again and I focused in, my mind a crumple of broken promises drifting steadily to the empty chamber of my body. “We’ll have to get married, and you’ll love having me as a husband, I promise.”

  Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord.

  His strong hand appeared out of nowhere, clutching my cheeks painfully in his grip, “What did you say?”

  I stared at him, uncomprehending. Had I said something?

  “Are you quoting the fucking bible again, you fucking psycho?” He released me viciously, and I brought my hand up unconsciously to rub at my aching jaw. “This is why I don’t have to worry about you telling anyone. No one would believe someone as bat shit insane as you.”

  What was left of the shredded pieces of my heart caught fire and turned to ash, filling my stomach with an aching dread. He was right. I had two reputations: pill popping and sex with Maverick. Even if I told Maverick, he might think I was hallucinating again. Or dreaming.

  I didn’t want to disrupt his new university life with a problem like this. I wasn’t his problem anymore, I was my own. And what could I do?

  No one would believe me.

  No one was coming to my defense.

  No one was coming to save me.

  Without another word, the boy I thought was the hero slipped out of my window and disappeared.

  Chapter 18

  Maverick

  I stood on the sidelines next to Coach, gripping the front of my helmet with one hand. Fitz was mad, angrier than I’d ever seen him, and I knew why. This was only our second game and James was making wrong play after wrong play, causing chaos on the field. Fitz would yell into his mic, his voice carrying onto the field and James would ignore him, shaking his head and scowling.

  Things had become heated in the team with the most recent accusation against the quarterback being investigated by the school board. Soon he would be on trial for the rumor he’d abused some freshman during Greek Week. And we might lose our quarterback. The story had made national news and even the Yale Press had run a story on James, an interview painting him in the most decent, uplifting, bullshit light.

  Whether or not it was true, the pressure seemed to be getting to our lead QB and he was having a tough night. Fitz kept muttering, standing there with his hands crossed over his chest, neck red with fury. I could see the confusion and disappointment on the faces of my teammates. Brody, normally not one for confrontation, was challenging every call James was making, shaking his head, and following the plays he was given despite his better judgment.

  “Get ready, Lockwood. You’re going in at halftime,” Coach said to me, his low voice marked by the smacking of gum between his teeth.

  I kept my eyebrows together and nodded. James would not be happy about this.

  At halftime, Fitz took the QB out of the locker room. Shouting came from the hallway, bouncing around the dead silence on the benches. My heart was racing, the pulse beating in my ears. I hadn’t played yet, not in a real game, and my teammates were looking up at me, the hopelessness evident. They knew we were going to lose. I was going to lead them straight to the bottom of the barrel.

  The shouting ceased and Fitz came through the door looking grim. His face was bright red, and he pointed at me with a thick finger, “You’re up. And you’d better do what I say, Lockwood, or I’ll throw your butt to the curb too.”

  I smiled nervously and straightened my helmet, feeling like a little kid playing dress up as Tom Brady on Halloween.

  ——————————

  After the game, I stayed in the locker room in the Smillow Field Center for a while, sitting on the bench and replaying the last half of the game over and over in my head. I went through every play, every call, every blown whistle. I remembered where every one of my
teammates were and where they should have been. We’d managed to win out of pure luck, the odds stacked against us at every turn.

  I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, thinking. It could have been several hours. I ignored every text message of congratulations, not even bothering to look at the ones from Mia. It’d taken three somewhat disappointing sexual encounters for her to completely lose her mind. She was following me everywhere, texting me constantly. I was considering skipping class just to avoid her but cared far too much about my grade. Eventually, I’d made my way to the showers, packed up all my equipment, and started to walk down the whitewashed hall towards the parking lot.

  It was then I heard loud sobbing, followed by short, gasping moans. I froze, the hair on my arms prickling into a wave. The sound echoed from behind a closet door with a plaque that read, “MAINTENANCE.” I placed my ear against the door and listened, the unmistakable sound of grief bouncing off the walls of the small room. I lifted my hand and hesitated. Was this person trapped or were they there on purpose, grieving on their own time? I let my knuckles tap lightly against the surface of the door.

  The sobbing stopped. The person sniffed and something clattered around.

  “Are you alright?” I called, “Are you locked in there?”

  “M-M- Maverick?” answered a small voice.

  I touched the door handle. It was locked. “Fuck, what’s your name?”

  “J-J-Jonah.”

  Jonah? “Jonah,” I muttered, “Second string, Jonah? Noah’s brother?”

  “Yeah,” He answered weakly.

  “The fuck you doing in a maintenance closet?”

  I heard a shallow breath and moved on, my stomach flipping. I didn’t think I wanted to know his answer.

  “Listen, Jonah, the door is locked. I’m going to find something to break it with, but I’ll be right back, okay? I won’t be gone long.” Thanks to my time with Celeste, and the subsequent research, I knew trauma. And whatever Jonah had just gone through, it was traumatic. “Jonah?” I called when he didn’t answer.