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“Good. I need to go settle in. Starting tomorrow, I expect to see you in the dining room for dinner every evening.”
“Bu-”
“Every evening. We are family after all.”
Nodding defeatedly, I turn and finish walking up the steps. This can’t be real. It’s a dream right? I’m being punked or something, right? This is not my life. It can’t be.
As I step into my room, I shut the door behind me, engaging the lock, before I fling myself onto the bed and close my eyes. When I wake up, this will all be over. Nothing but a bad dream.
It was in fact, not just a bad dream.
But this is a nightmare, and I’m not sure if I’m awake or asleep right now.
The sound of heavy breathing tells me that I’m awake, and I’m not alone. Stirring, I rub my eyes and roll over, expecting to see Travis climbing through my window, but there’s no one there. My bed is empty, but the heavy breathing gets louder and the breathing turns into a low groan. Sitting up just slightly, I turn to face the corner of my room, and the entire world stops.
I freeze in place, unsure if I should speak up, scream, run, or pull the blankets over my head and pretend like I’m not seeing what I’m seeing. My uncle. Sitting in the armchair by my collection of vintage records. He’s holding a pair of my underwear to his face and his hand is wrapped around his dick.
Fear radiates through my body, followed by disgust. I can’t even form a cohesive thought about what’s happening. This is happening to someone else right? Not to me. Do I call out and say something? Make it known that I know what he’s doing? What the fuck is he doing? Why?
He’s nowhere near me, but I feel so violated. Like a tiny piece of myself was chipped away, and I’m no longer safe or secure. My space, my sacred space is forever desecrated with his short fast breaths and the moan that falls from his lips.
Too afraid of what could happen if I bring attention to myself, I quickly lay back down and slowly slide the blankets up around my face. Peering over the edge of the comforter, I hear a low “fuck,” and catch a glance just as he jizzes into my underwear.
That tingling, watery feeling in the back of my throat creeps in, and the contents of my stomach churn violently. Pressing my lips tightly together, I clamp one hand over my mouth as a secondary barrier, trying to keep tonight’s dinner from expelling across my sheets.
As if snapping out of a dream, Uncle Evan’s eyes flick open and quickly scan the room. After exhaling a sigh of relief, he shoves himself back into his pants and pockets my underwear. Repulsion oozes from my pores.
Closing my eyes and stilling myself, I pretend that I’m asleep, that I haven’t noticed a thing. I feel a shift in the air, and suddenly I can feel him breathing down my neck. How did he get so close, so fast, and without a sound? The mattress dips, and I feel his body settling down beside me.
Pressing my eyelids together hard, I do everything to slow my motions. Even as I feel the blanket shifting to the side, I lie still. Even as I feel fingertips trail along my upper thighs, I lie still. Even when my underwear is pushed to the side, I don’t move a fucking muscle. Because what am I going to do? Fight off this grown man? Sure I’m nearly an adult now, but he has 100 pounds on me, and he’s the city prosecutor.
Who on earth would believe me?
His breath is hot across my skin as he leans down, hovering over me.
“Soon my sweet, perfect, little doll. Soon,” he whispers. His fingers brush up against me in places that make me cringe inside, before he slowly pulls away.
I feel the blanket being tugged back over my body, and the bed shifting again as he stands. Then quickly, but quietly, he exits my room. I still don’t move. I can’t. My body is frozen stiff, paralyzed with fear. A few minutes pass, and once I’m absolutely sure I’ve heard his footsteps disappear, I jump up and lock my bedroom door.
My chest starts to race, my throat constricts, and it feels like I’m suffocating. Churning again violently, my stomach gives one final warning that I can’t hold back the inevitable, and I run to my bathroom. Flinging the lid of the toilet up, I barely get my face above the bowl in time for everything to come up all at once. Tears fall from my face and my body convulses as my stomach empties itself forcefully, making everything hurt. My chest, my back, my abdomen and ribs. Everything strains from tensing so tightly.
When there’s finally nothing left, and all I’m doing is dry heaving, I flush the toilet, stand up, and move to the sink to brush my teeth. Ridding my mouth of the remnants of vomit. Cleansing away the horrid taste of old batteries and curdled milk. When I’m done, I rinse my face with cool water, before heading back to bed.
My door is locked, but as hard as I try, I can’t seem to fall asleep. I'm too on edge. Intrusive thoughts push their way into the forefront of my brain, and I can’t silence them. Every inch of this room feels tainted.
Snatching my cell phone from my nightstand, I call Travis. The line trills, ringing several times, and by the seventh ring, I know he’s not picking up.
“You know what to do.”
His soft voice flows through my ears and I sigh.
“Travis, I -“ I pause when I feel the tears welling up, and I clear my throat, “I - just need you. You’ve been gone all day and I don’t know where you’re at, but please, call me,” I manage to whisper, before hanging up and dropping my phone to the floor.
There’s no one else I can talk to. I may as well be stranded on a deserted island, alone. Grabbing my iPod from the nightstand, I place my earbuds into my ears and I turn my playlist on shuffle, as I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, wishing for sleep that never finds me.
Chapter four
Travis
