Incomplete

by Eliza Park

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m gonna get you out of there, bud. Tell me you understand.”

  “Okay,” he said weakly.

  “It’s going to feel like a long time, but it’ll only be a few minutes.” I checked the time on my phone. “It’s 10 o’clock. I’ll be back at 10:05.”

  “Okay.”

  I left my stuff in front of the door and raced back down to the locker room. I needed something heavy to break the handle off the door and the image of an emergency fire extinguisher on the wall opposite the red lockers came into mind. I skated into the room, wrapped my t shirt tightly around my fist and broke the glass door. I shook off the broken glass and grabbed the fire extinguisher, sprinting back down the hall as quickly as I could.

  “Jonah?” I called.

  “Maverick?”

  “Yeah, bud. I’m gonna break off the door handle now, alright? I need you to step back and cover your head. It…it might take me a few tries.”

  “Okay.”

  I balanced the heavy metal object on one hand, holding the top firmly with the other. I was going to have to use every bit of remaining strength I had, relying heavily on physics, to break the damn thing. It wasn’t going to be easy. I took a deep breath. I’d only seen shit like this in movies and now I had to do it in real life.

  Fuck Tom Brady, call me Rocky fucking Balboa.

  “You ready, Jonah?”

  “Yeah, I’m ready.”

  “Okay.” I took another deep breath and lifted the fire extinguisher up into the air, letting it slam down against the metal. With a loud clank, the door came slightly loose.

  I inhaled. “Alright, one more time, bud,” I called.

  I lifted it again and this time, used all the strength I had to slam the motherfucker down, employing the last of the rage I had built up in my system. The handle fell to the floor lamely and a giant round hole gaped in the wood. It swung inward a little.

  Silence.

  “Jonah?” I called, setting the fire extinguisher down on the ground.

  His voice was barely a whisper, “Are you alone?”

  “Yep, just me.”

  “Do you have any extra clothes?” I heard him say quietly.

  “Yeah, but they don’t smell all that great.”

  “That’s okay.”

  I hurriedly pulled a used pair of shorts and a t-shirt out of my bag and tossed them gently into the room. I turned my back to the door and waited. I could imagine this was another shitty hazing ritual for the Greek community. Some asshole had locked Jonah into the maintenance closet and stolen all the poor kid’s clothes. I had two major questions. Who the fuck did it and how long had he been in there for? I remembered seeing his face at halftime. He looked quite a bit like his monster of a brother, Noah, just thinner and with more hair.

  After a few minutes of shuffling the door creaked open. “Thanks for rescuing me,” Jonah chuckled.

  I turned around and my body went cold.

  Jonah’s right eye was blackened, his wrists bruised, eyes rimmed red from crying, and there was dried blood on the inside of his leg.

  “Jonah,” I croaked, a fiery hot ball of rage forming in my stomach.

  He bristled at my reaction and I clenched my hands at my sides. “Are you alright?”

  His mouth twitched downwardly, and I saw him fighting the emotion that brewed behind his eyes. I took a step forward and linked my arm under his, holding him up. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

  He shook his head, “No,” his voice was strangled, “No, I can’t go to a hospital.”

  “Why? You uninsured? I’ll cover the medical bills.”

  Jonah shook his head, “No, I can’t let anyone…see me like this?”

  “There’s blood on your leg,” I murmured.

  He groaned in pain and let out a shaky breath. I grabbed my duffel bag, careful not to let Jonah lean too far down, and helped him limp down the hallway.

  “You don’t have to tell me what happened, but I’m taking you to a hospital.”

  He was quiet as we made our way slowly out of the arena. Everyone had been gone for a long time, even the media cleared out over an hour ago. I pulled out my phone to call my driver and tried to get him to sit on one of the benches near the parking lot. He winced and stood back up, leaning on me heavily.

  Realization dawned and my jaw set in a hard line. Something severely fucked up had happened to Jonah, fucked up enough that he didn’t want to talk about it. Fucked up enough that he couldn’t sit down and had been sobbing in the maintenance closet.

  “Who was it?” I asked quietly, trying to keep the rage in my voice from bubbling to the surface.

  He shook his head, and I watched a tear float down his face.

  I took a deep breath, “Over the summer I spent some time at my dad’s firm. Made friends with some really good fucking lawyers.” Friends was a stretch, but I knew I could afford the legal counsel if Jonah’s family couldn’t.

  He shook his head, “I can’t take him to court.”

  “Is this one of those Greek bullshit things?” I asked.

  “No,” he answered, his voice small.

  “Alright, Jonah. You have to tell the police. You have to report this. Whatever happened to you could happen to someone else.”

  The driver pulled up then and I helped ease Jonah into the back seat. I shut the door and threw my duffel into the trunk, going around to sit on the other side. I turned to him. “So?”

  His face was pulled tight, the pain evident on his features. “Hospital,” he groaned. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and nodded to my driver. “I’ll call the police.”

  ——————————

  A while later I was sitting in the waiting room after talking to the officers on duty while Jonah went through the process of a rape kit. He’d requested it when we’d arrived, and the entire mood of the nurses changed from going through the motions to real fucking worried. Jonah wasn’t a little guy. He was shorter than me by a bit, and thin, but he was a football player, he took care of himself. I was trying to puzzle out the culprit and had concluded it must have been someone from the football team. But I couldn’t decide who. I didn’t know everyone’s names yet, especially not everyone who was second string, like me. A lot of these players had been through the summer camp, played through high school, or knew each other through shared boarding schools. I’d decided not to call Noah, not until I got the clear from Jonah.

  A nurse came to grab me while I was waiting, my leg bouncing up and down. “Mr. Lockwood?” She asked.

  I stood, “Yeah?”

  She gave me a kind smile, “Are you the boyfriend?”

  I shook my head, “No, I mean he’s cute, but no.”

  “He’s asking for you.”

  I followed the nurse back to Jonah’s room. I stepped in, peering around the heavy door. “Hey, bud,” I said as casually as I could.

  Jonah was leaning back in his hospital bed, an IV hooked up to his arm. He had some color back in his cheeks and he looked high as hell on pain meds. He gave me a weak smile, “Hey.”

  I dragged a chair over to the side of his bed and took a seat, leaning forward, “How are you feeling?”

  “Stoned.”

  I grinned.

  “I wanted to thank you,” he said, demeanor turning suddenly grave.

  I reached my hand out to cover his, careful of the heart rate monitor on his finger. “You don’t gotta thank me. I was in the right place at the right time.”

  “I don’t know that I would have made it out of there alive…” he choked out. His face contorted and I watched his eyes fill with tears.

  “It’s all over now, Jonah. It’s all over. You’re safe.”

  “It was James,” he admitted weakly.

  “James…the quarterback…”

  He nodded.

  My teeth clenched together, my left hand gripping a tight fist. I schooled my expression as well as I could and squeezed Jonah’s hand gently, wonderi
ng why the fuck I hadn’t thought of that. “I appreciate you telling me. Did you want me to call your brother?”

  Noah looked surprised, “You have his number?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That would be great, actually. My phone is—he took it, I don’t know where it is.”

  I nodded and let go of his hand to pull my phone out of my pocket. I tapped a few keys and pulled up Noah’s name. Without giving any details, I told Noah his brother was in the hospital and I was here with him. I promised not to leave until he got here.

  “You’re really good at handling this stuff,” Jonah said suddenly.

  “What do you mean?”

  He waved a hand, “I felt really safe. There’s something about you. It makes me feel safe.”

  I smiled, “I think that’s the drugs talking, bud.”

  “We’re the same age,” he pointed at me.

  “Actually, you’re probably older. I skipped a year.”

  He rolled his eyes, “Of course you did!”

  I grinned and glanced down at my phone, taking a deep breath, “Actually my girl—ex-girlfriend had a really traumatic…upbringing. She used to have nightmares.” I wasn’t sure why I was telling Jonah this. It wasn’t my story to tell. “I got pretty used to dealing with it.” I thought for a minute, “I also wrote my senior research paper on childhood trauma and overcoming adversity with an emphasis of the psychiatric misuse of anti-psychotics.”

  Jonah stared at me, “That was heavy.”

  I laughed, “It was a heavy relationship.”

  “You sound like you miss her.”

  I shrugged, “We’re not here to talk about my failed past, Jonah. The nurse asked if I was your boyfriend?”

  Jonah sighed, “You know I’ve been with Charlie for three years and we haven’t had sex yet.”

  I felt my face fall. “I’m sorry.”

  His face leaned to the side and he looked at me with heavy lids, “I hate him.”

  “You have every right to.”

  “I want him to die.”

  “I could kill him for you,” I joked, “Apparently I’m talented with a fire extinguisher.”

  Jonah smiled and it felt genuine, “Send me his toes?”

  Noah banged through the door then, his face red with anger. “Are you alright? What the fuck happened?”

  I stood to leave then and gave Jonah a smile, “Let me know how you’re feeling, alright? I’ll leave my number with the nurse.”

  “His toes, Maverick.”

  “I’ll wrap them up in a real pretty package for you, Jonah.” I touched his shoulder before leaving, filling my lungs with air before I headed out of the hospital.

  Chapter 19

  Celeste

  Not long after the incident I started to notice the stares. My classmates would walk around me in a wide berth, whisper as I walked by. Most of the boys offered appreciative nods, the girls looks of complete and utter disgust. I didn’t find out exactly why until I ran into Amy in the library during lunch, on my way to the musty stacks Maverick and I used to haunt. She motioned to me with her tiny, tiny hands, the veins still visible under her pale white skin. I knew Amy stayed here instead of joining everyone in the cafeteria to avoid eating, it was one of the things we had in common. She was looking sickly again, too skinny, and I knew she’d been losing the battle against her eating disorder once again.

  “Are the rumors about you and Eli true?” She whispered discreetly, her thin eyebrows drawn together with what I thought was maybe concern.

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “What are people saying?”

  Her dry lips formed into a straight line before she answered, “They’re saying you begged him to fuck you after Maverick Lockwood left.”

  I felt sick, the acid in my empty stomach turning to hot lava. I shook my head, unsure of what to say. “That isn’t true,” I whispered.

  Amy’s blue eyes narrowed, “I mean, Celeste, come on. You and Lockwood were in here like every day. Neither of you ever admitted to it, but I don’t blame you for...you know, needing to fill the void.”

  My mind was racing, and the hair was standing up at the back of my neck, “It isn’t true, Amy. I never asked Eli to…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, nearly choking on his name.

  She shrugged, “Well whatever. For what it’s worth he’s really been bragging about you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I heard there were pictures.” Her gaze turned appreciative then. “Didn’t take you for the kinky type.”

  My body went cold, my hands trembling on the books clutched to my chest. Pictures? When would he have taken pictures? Bile rose in my throat and I turned, walking quickly away from her to the girl’s bathroom down the hall. I made it just in time to throw my books on the cold tile floor and dry heave into the clean porcelain, tears stinging my eyes. If Eli had pictures of one of our first times together, I was even more fucked. I’d already decided not to go to the authorities, knowing they wouldn’t believe me, but he’d managed to stack a case before I even had the chance to notice one could be made.

  I started to cry, quiet sobs wracking my empty body. I had never felt so desperate before, sitting on the floor of the bathroom with my arms around my knees. It felt like a living nightmare, one I would never wake up from. I thought back to the Spring before, the flirting and touching and making out, the warm hand holding mine, caramel gaze, and quick, uneven smile. And Maverick. Scowling at us from down the hall, avoiding me as much as he could.

  I stuck my head between my knees and took a deep breath. Cold tile seeped through the fabric of my skirt and I shivered, remembering that icy blue gaze, his large hand on my back as we danced at the Spring Formal. The way he’d looked at me, so much anguish in the lines of his face. I sniffed, regretting every decision I’d made that led me straight to Eli, wishing I’d just listened to Maverick.

  I sat there through the sound of two bells, hearing footsteps shuffle in and out, toilets being flushed, hands being washed. The voices were muffled by the knees against my ears, but I didn’t want to chance hearing anything about myself as I went through the hazy memories I had with my blue-eyed old friend. I wanted to hear his voice, see his smile, be comforted in those long arms.

  Eventually I stood on shaking limbs, gathering my things, and exiting the bathroom. The halls were empty, and I guessed I’d probably missed another class period. So, I went straight to my room, not caring if I missed the rest of the week, or year. Locking the door to my room behind me, I headed for the bathroom, staring longingly at the rows of pill bottles in the medicine cabinet.

  I left them, deciding not to sleep through another afternoon, and made the split decision to grab my phone from my backpack and call my dad. I didn’t bother checking the time difference, but he answered on the fourth ring, much to my surprise.

  “Celeste?” My dad’s low gravelly voice sounded through the phone.

  I almost cried with relief, “Hi dad, sorry if it’s late.”

  “What do you need?” His voice was cold, which is what I was used to. I heard voices in the background and wondered if my parents were having a party.

  “I...I want to come home.”

  “What, right now?”

  “Yes.”

  He scoffed, “Didn’t school just start?”

  “Yeah, I was hoping I could transfer…”

  “To where? A public school? Do you know how much we pay for you to have a good education?”

  “I--I do.” Silence. “I just don’t want to stay here anymore,” I said quietly.

  “Did something happen?”

  The concern in his voice surprised me. Yes! I wanted to scream. GET ME OUT OF HERE! “No, I just want to come home.”

  “Toughen up, Celeste. We’ll see you at Christmas.”

  The line went dead. I stared at my phone, blinking stupidly at the black screen. I don’t know why I thought Jack Hanson would be willing to get me out of this situation, but it still hu
rt to know he didn’t care enough to try. I threw the phone down on my bed and walked back to my bathroom, picking out three of the fullest bottles and swallowing a couple of each. Then I went to my bed and laid down, staring at the gray wall until my body finally succumbed to the drugs.

  I don't know how long I was asleep before rough hands were pulling at my tights and skirt viciously. I opened my eyes blearily, fear rising to my throat when I saw Eli’s dark curled hair above my stomach. I kicked at him, but my skirt was already around my knees, binding them together, the tights making it impossible to separate my legs. His eyes were black with rage and I felt his hand connect with my cheek, the loud slap echoing off the walls. I blinked against the darkness, covering my face with my hands. He rolled me then, taking advantage of my temporary loss of vision to press my stomach into the mattress. I felt his finger probing at my entrance and tried to slap him away by throwing my arms backwards, but he grabbed them both, grunting angrily in my ear as he held them above my head. He put both of my wrists in one of his hands and I heard him wrestling with something, his knees shifting behind me.

  “I came prepared this time.” He rasped, and I watched through a curtain of hair as he tied my wrists together with a rope, securing them to the bed frame.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, sinking my face into the soft pillow.

  “You wet for me, baby?”

  I felt the fabric leave the lower half of my body, felt him push my legs apart, and when he entered me this time, I didn’t cry out, keeping my teeth clenched together. I wondered how long it would take to smother myself with the pillow, how Eli would explain my dead and bound body with his semen still in me.

  He grabbed my hair then, lifting my head from what I had hoped would be a slow suffocation process, “Does it feel good, baby?”

  I didn’t respond, keeping my jaw locked as he tore me apart again and again. He stilled, pulling my hair so tightly I winced, “Did you not hear me?” I could feel the fury in his voice. His other hand came around my throat and my eyes shot open with fear and shock, I wriggled against him, wincing again at the all over roughness I was experiencing. “That’s right, baby,” he said then, beginning to move, “Show me how much you like it.”