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In the end, I wasn’t sure of the future, but I could be sure of one thing: whatever happened, I could handle it.
ONE YEAR LATER
“Today is his sentencing.”
“I know.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go?”
“You’re asking me this now?” I was suspended from the ceiling, my body tied up in intricate knots. Law had bought and moved into a downtown loft. The view was spectacular, especially from my position. I was above it all, above the lights that twinkled like stardust, above the people that lived and lied in the lights, I was above it. Hung from the ropes, I felt power.
“I want to be sure.” Law trailed his hands along the knots and I could feel the sensation vibrating against my skin. I shivered, goose bumps forming.
From the rope to Law’s deep voice, I felt everything with intense awareness. The knots pressed against my naked skin, their hard packs reminding me of Law. The knots reminded me of his cock: smooth, yet hard and roped, literally.
I’d been suspended for only a few minutes, but it wasn’t the first time Law and I had engaged. He’d had plans for me, as he’d said months before, and he had followed through. Law had waited until I was at peace before suspending me. We did rope play, we did bondage, but he never suspended me until I had fully let Morris go.
Good thing, too, because when you’re up like that, with the rope pressing into your skin, completely helpless, you have nowhere to go but your mind. All that’s left is sensation. Had I attempted it too soon I would have broken. Instead I soared.
When Law raised me up in the ropes, I felt like I was flying.
I let out a sigh and said, “God I would love to talk about anything else right now. Lets talk about genocide.”
“Nami…” Law yanked on one of the knots and I trembled. “I want to know that your mind is clear. There can’t be any secrets between us, remember?”
I sighed. “I let Morris go the day I decided he didn’t have any more power over me. I don’t need to watch him go to jail to know he’s out of my life.” I had helped with the case, of course. After Becca Riley’s suicide note, more women came forward. An astonishing twenty-four women had tales to tell of their own rapes by Morris’s hand. It was sickening. I made it clear to the prosecuting attorney that I would give my testimony but my help ended there.
It wasn’t about spite, it was about moving on. I’d given almost a year of my life to Morris and I wasn’t about to give up more. I recorded my account of the rape so they could admit it into evidence and alerted them of the rape kit that had been abandoned in evidence.
The attorney tried to apologize, more to cover her ass than out of real contrition. It was clear I had a huge civil suit on my hands. I could take the state for a lot of money for the way they had handled my case. I didn’t, though. Like I said, I didn’t want to give up any more of my life to Morris. I had moved on.
“It probably doesn’t hurt knowing he’s getting life no matter what,” Law whispered, running his fingers lightly along the ropes. The sensation was like an amplified caress.
“Yeah. That doesn’t hurt.” I sighed the words, utterly losing focus. Up in the air, it was hard enough to think, much less carry a conversation. Law tugged on the ropes, his actions a purposeful movement to elicit an erotic response. Each knot hit a pressure point designed to drive me wild. When Law tugged another knot, I whimpered, completely forgetting what we’d been talking about.
“I suppose it’s time we get started, Dandelion,” Law murmured, straining the rope so hard I saw stars.
Afterward we cuddled in bed with the news on. Different news channels each reported on the same thing: Morris. His sentencing was over and the judge had ruled that Morris would get life without parole. I turned off the TV and craned my neck to Law. If it was possible, I’d grown to love him more over the year.
We wouldn’t be in Utah much longer. Law had gotten a job with a nonprofit in DC that worked to eliminate sex trafficking in the US and abroad. I’d also gotten a job and now we were both moving to the capital of the nation the next week.
After months of what felt like sleepwalking through my life, barely managing to finish my degree in peace and conflict studies online, it had all clicked together. Law had shown me the job and I’d applied, interviewed, and been accepted. I was going to work in a rape recovery center. Hopefully my terrible experience would help someone. That was the plan, at least.
Mostly everything about my Utah life was ending. The only tie I had there was Tony, who I made sure to text, email, and Skype whenever
I could. Even my tie to Raskol was no longer in Utah. Raskol would follow me wherever I went, and Law had solidified that in silver. Dangling delicately from my neck was a canine-shaped locket Law had given me months ago. It was the closest I would ever get to a dog again.
Law and I had visited the humane society a few times, but it felt like I was trying to replace a child. I’d discovered that the most I could do to allay my guilt and remorse was donate to various dog charities. Yet even that was like taking an umbrella to a stormy sea. I’d grown to accept that nothing would calm the sorrow I felt.
I had decided not to call Effie months before. I’d deleted her voicemail and blocked her number. She was part of my old life, the life I was moving on from. She had chosen not to be a part of my new life when she’d abandoned me and left me to the wolves.
I wrote her numerous letters that I never sent. Each letter was the same variation of the previous one. I called her out for being a horrid friend and person. I told her she should be ashamed of herself. I told her she was terrible.
In the end, it wasn’t worth it. To ascribe so much worth to a person who doesn’t value you is toxic. I had learned that from Morris. It was better to forget Effie and move on than to try and capture the elusive concept of closure.
Hopefully I would make new friends in DC. Maybe my new friendships wouldn’t be exactly like mine and Effie's had been, but then what I’d had with Effie hadn’t actually been what I’d thought it was. A true sister doesn’t abandon you. A true sister believes you no matter what.
“How do you feel?” Law asked, pulling me close.
