Still Missing

Hand clutching my stomach, I staggered over to sit on the stool next to him.

'I guess I can understand that. You've gone to a lot of trouble and I've been a lot of trouble, right?' Eyelids at half-mast, he nodded his head slowly.

'The thing is, the last time we tried...some of the things I said? That wasn't really me. I just thought that's what you wanted, what would make you happy.'

He still wasn't showing much expression, but he was looking intently into my eyes. The best liars stick close to the truth. I took another deep breath.

'I was really scared, of you and of the feelings you were bringing up in me, but I didn't know...' He lifted his chin from his hand and sat up straight. I was going to have to talk faster.

'I get it now, I just have to be honest with you, with myself, and I'm ready to do that.' I prayed for the strength to say the next words. 'So I'd like to try again. Please give me another chance, please.' I waited through a long pause, then braced myself as he got up from the stool.

'Perhaps I should give this a little more time, Annie. I wouldn't want to make a hasty decision.' He stood before me with his arms out and his head cocked to the side.

'How about a hug?' His smile didn't reach his eyes. I was being tested. I stepped into his arms and put mine around him. 'Christina is fine,' he said. 'We spent a delightful afternoon looking at houses. She sure knows her real estate.'

I finally exhaled.

'I can feel your heart beating against me.' He squeezed me harder. Then he released me and said, 'Let's get some food in you.' He left the cabin but came back moments later carrying a brown paper bag.

'Lentil soup, freshly made at my favorite deli, and some organic apple juice. The protein and sugars will help.'

After The Freak warmed up the fragrant soup, he brought a steaming bowl and a glass of juice over to me. My frantic hands reached for the soup, but he sat down beside me and placed the bowl on the table in front of him. Tears came to my eyes.

'Please, I have to eat, I'm so hungry.'

In a kind voice he said, 'I know.'

He brought a spoonful up to his mouth and blew on it. I watched in agony as he took a sip. He nodded his head once, then dipped the spoon back in the bowl. He blew on it again, but this time brought the spoon toward my mouth. As soon as I reached for it, he paused and shook his head. I placed my hand back in my lap.

The Freak slowly spoon-fed me the soup, blowing on every mouthful first and stopping once in a while to feed me sips of the apple juice. When half of the soup and juice was gone he said, 'That's probably all your stomach can handle right now. Feel better?'

I nodded.

'Good.' He glanced at his watch and smiled. 'Time for your bath.'

This time when he led me out of the bathroom to the bed and began unzipping my dress from behind, I knew what to do.

'Please don't touch me--I don't want to do this.'

With his chin digging into my shoulder, he nuzzled my earlobe. 'I can feel you shaking. What are you scared of?'

'You--I'm scared of you. You're strong and you're going to hurt me.' My dress fell to the floor and he moved in front of me. In the candlelight, his eyes glowed. He stood before me and traced his middle finger around my neck.

The finger traveled down to right above my pubic bone and paused.

My skin crawled.

'Describe your fear to me.' His voice lingered over the word 'fear.'

'My knees--they feel weak. I feel sick in my stomach. I can't breathe. My heart, it feels...it feels like it's going to burst.'

With his hands pressed into my shoulders, he walked me backward until the edge of the mattress hit the back of my knees, then shoved me hard, so that I fell onto the bed. I watched as he ripped off his clothes.

I crawled across the bed, but he dragged me back by my ankle. Then he was on me, tearing my pan ties and bra off. It all happened so fast. He was hard, then he was inside me. I screamed. He smiled. I gritted my teeth, squeezed my eyes shut, counted his thrusts--struggling when he faltered--and prayed.

LetitbeoverLetitbeoverLetitbeover

When he finally came, I wanted to pour bleach on my crotch and scrub with boiling water until I bled, but I couldn't even get up to wash. When I asked, he said, 'That's not necessary, just rest.'

In his postcoital afterglow, he lay there stroking my hair and said, 'I'll take some chicken breasts out of the freezer tomorrow.' He pulled me close against him and nuzzled my neck. 'We can make chow mein together, okay?' He cuddled me until he fell asleep.

His wetness was still between my legs, but I didn't cry. When I thought of Luke a sob almost broke free, but I bit the inside of my cheek, hard. I whispered, 'I'm sorry,' into the dark.

I've watched shows about women who stay married for years to guys who keep beating the crap out of them--worse, they don't just stay, they try desperately to make the guy happy, which of course never works--and I'd want to be sympathetic, want to understand, but I just never got it, Doc. Seemed pretty simple to me. Pack your shit and tell the jerk goodbye, preferably with a boot to his ass. Oh, yeah, I thought I was one tough cookie. Well, all it took was five days of being left alone for this cookie to crumble. Five stinking days, and I was ready to do whatever he wanted. And now I get to be paraded around as a heroine. Heroes dive into burning buildings and save children. Heroes die for the cause. I'm not a hero, I'm a coward.

I have to do another interview tonight, look at some perky blonde with her Chiclet smile who's going to ask, 'How did you feel up there, were you scared?' No shit, Sherlock. They're no better than him--just sadists with a bigger paycheck.

Interesting that hardly anyone asks how I feel now, not that I'd tell them. I just wonder why nobody cares much about the after--just about the story. Guess they figure it stops there.

I wish.

SESSION SEVEN

Hard to believe it's already the third week of January, isn't it, Doc? I'm just glad all the Christmas and New Year's hoopla is finally out of the way, which reminds me, did I ever tell you about Christmas with The Freak? You know, I don't think I ever did get around to sharing his not-so-good word on all things red and green. Well, one day he sat me down and told me it was December but we wouldn't be celebrating Christmas, because it was just one more way society tries to control people.

It didn't stop there. I got to listen to an endless rant about the evils of Christmas and how society has taken a myth and blown it up into a money grab. The last thing in the world I'd wanted to do was celebrate anything with The Freak, but by the time he was done talking about every shitty aspect of the holiday I would've helped the Grinch steal Christmas myself. Actually, that's what the jerk did. He stole Christmas from me. Along with a lot of other stuff, of course. You know, like pride, self-esteem, joy, security, the ability to sleep in a bed, but hey, who's complaining?

Well, at least I tried with the tree.... Maybe next year will be different. Like you told me, I need to allow for the possibility I won't always feel the way I do now, and it's important to take note of small signs of progress, no matter how insignificant they may seem. Today when I stepped out onto my front porch I caught the scent of snow in the air and for a couple of seconds I felt excited. We haven't had any snow yet this year, and as soon as there was even an inch out there Emma and I used to tear around in it. She's so damn funny to watch. She runs, slides, pounces, digs, and eats it. Always wished I knew what she was thinking. Probably, Bunnies, bunnies, got to get the bunnies. Sometimes I'd toss a handful of treats into the snow so she'd actually find something.

Afterward I'd have a hot bath, make a cup of tea, snuggle up by the fire with a book, and watch Emma's feet twitch as she reenacted the fun in her dreams. All those memories came back, and I felt good. Like I had something