I’m not pretty, I mean, not by societal standards
at least. Wait- but whose standards are what standards, and what standards are
societies...wait,
what? I lose my train of thought as wisps of drab brown hair find its cozy
place inside the whites of my eyes. I use my stumpy dials to push the intrusion
to their rightful place on my ruddy cheeks. I always say that I need to cut my
hair but then I wouldn’t be able to hide. My mucky mane is like a curtain,
shielding me from the world, keeping me in, pushing them out.
“Ping!” The elevator screeches, awakening me from
my thoughts. Looking towards Hades as usual, I slowly shuffle into the elevator
with slumped shoulders and stiff legs. I watch as my combat boots lazily move
right...then
left. Right...then
left. Right...then
left. I notice the fray at the end of one of the shoelaces. Imperfect like me,
lacks perfection, like she. The right-left shuffling motion ceases as I find
myself towards the back of the elevator. I drag my head up to push my fat stumps
against number nineteen, the last stop. My last stop. My eyes try to focus on
the dim fluorescent square next to nineteen. I lose the battle when the ugly
yellow light blurs with the cool silver of the elevator. My face heats, my
breath deepens. I shake my head in attempts to rid myself of these foolish
emotions...every
emotion. Now is NOT the time…I’m almost free. The doors begin its slow trek of
reuniting with one another. Right before their final kiss, I hear a rushed
“Wait!” coming from the other side. I quickly tap the close button in
successions of threes. As the doors close, I let out a very relieved sigh. I
need to be alone. I really need these last moments to myself.
“Ahh, almost missed it,” I look up to see the
ancient elevator doors creek open to let some stranger into my spaceship,
transporting me to my final destination. My mouth voluntarily opens in awe,
disgust even. He smiles at me, I look down. Fuck. He looks away. His body
shifts away from me, from she. Good! Since he's already pegged me for a social
pariah, there won't be any need for trivial conversation.
My body shakes in sync with the elevator as it
stirs to life. I close my eyes as the old box halts and shakes a little past
each floor. *One* grumble, *three* grumble, *seven* grumble, *ten* grumble. I
feel myself let out a sigh of relief as we enter double digits. Almost there…near
my liberation. *Eleven* grumble, *twelve* grumble, *fourteen* grumble, croak,
clash! My eyes swing open as I feel my body being lurched towards the ground.
My boney body collides with the itchy, carpeted floor, hard! I feel the
elevator shift downwards one more time. This time my head meets the metal of
the elevator with a neuron shattering thunk. The room begins to dim. My mind follows en
suite.
I groggily awaken to a heavy sensation on my chest.
I survey my surroundings. I am lying in my childhood bedroom. The hot pink
wallpaper is masked by the darkness of night. Night is when I'm supposed to be
a good girl, the best girl. To be the best girl, you must be quiet. You mustn't
cry out, even if it hurts. The heavy palm is deep in my underdeveloped breasts.
The meaty hand pumps hard into my chest. "Wake the fuck
up", he
screams his equivalent to mommy’s 'Good morning, my sunshine'. "Please,
please be okay", wait---he's never said please before. "Come on, wake
up!” he pleads. Now I know that this cannot be him, he'd never beg, he never
asks. Is this even my bedroom?
My eyes flutter open for real this time. It reveals
deep, dark nothingness. I gasp loudly and sputter a bit as a heavy palm
continues to pry into my chest.
"Get off of me", I try to say, but my
voice is so strained, it ends up turning into a cough. My chest feels lightened
when the heavy hand floats away from my body.
"Thank God", I hear someone exclaim.
"Wh-where am I?" I sound, this time
making out the words properly. I look around to try to gauge my surroundings,
but the only thing besides the lack of light is the small fluorescent red
'EXIT' sign.
"The elevator", the stranger says.
"You hit your head so hard, I actually thought I’d lost you”. The recent
memories come flooding back to me, the cool silver elevator, the intrusive
stranger, number nineteen, the clash, the smash. I attempt to stand up but the
immense pressure on my lobe informs me that, that wouldn't be possible.
"I wasn't yours to lose". My attempt to
sound stern fails when my voice betrays me and cracks.
"I didn't mean it like that, I was trying
to--"
"And why the hell were you touching me?!"
I remember. This time my voice does what I want it to. "If you thought I
was a fucking corpse, why the in the world would you try feeling me up", I
am fuming.
"But I-", he tries.
"I don't know what kind of freaky shit you’re
into but I'm not dead yet. I refuse to be invisible! You can't just come in
here and--"
"I was trying to save your life", he
bites back. His voice stops me in my tracks. His intensity gives me chills. I
shake. I turn away from the voice in attempts to get back to she. My legs draw
up towards my chest, my head drifts to my knee, and my arms make an X tightly
across my body, forming a cocoon. I am now she, no longer me. A translucent butterfly
floating away from this elevator, away from this stranger. Away, away a--.
CREeeakkkk, the screeching elevator loudly pierces
my eardrum. My eyes pop open and my X is torn from me as I brace myself for the
impact. Once the sound ends, the room is haunted by silence.
"Shit", I hear the stranger say, breaking
the noiseless room. I ignore him as I begin to draw my walls back up.
"Look", he says in a tired, nearly apologetic voice. "Our first
impression wasn't that great, but this may become our last impression as
well". He pauses, waiting to see if I'd interject. I say nothing, but I do
listen. Something in his voice makes me want to hear this. Sincerity, maybe? I
can't be sure because it's been a while since I've heard that tone myself, but
I am almost positive he is being genuine. I turn toward his voice with the
intent of giving him my full attention. He clears his throat. "If I am
correct with my assumption, then I'd like to get to know who I'll be dying
with".
My eyes dart to the dim glow of the
"EXIT" sign, wishing that there actually was one. The room turns into
a state of awkward silence. He crushes it again with his deep cherry oak voice.
He sits.
"Well, I'll uh, I guess I'll start. Bradley,
my name is Bradley, Brad for short
and I had what some would say the perfect
life." His voice is nostalgic.
"I grew up a privileged all American asshole.
I, well my family, had the big houses, the fancy cars, and all of the material
shit that their privileged hearts desired.”
Why is he telling me this, why must we converse.
Still, I sit quietly trying my best to stay me and not she.
“Back then I was like them and I
definitely did not hesitate to show it off. So, you can imagine that my social
life was never lacking. For some reason rich and asshole mix together so well",
he chuckles an empty laugh.
"In college nothing changed. Friends, pussy,
and parties, in that order. That was my college experience", another
'laugh'.
“And then, it ended”. He takes a deep breath. When
his voice returns it is eerie. Although I am fully attentive now, I am also
prepared to flee.
"I was in my junior year. I was partying
harder than ever before. Then one night, it caught up to me."
I feel shaking, but this time it wasn't coming from
the elevator.
“I’m sorry,
it’s just that I’ve never talked about this before and if we do die, I need to
get this off of my chest.”
I wait for him to be ready. I wait for the shaking
to subside and his thrashing heartbeat to die down.
He takes a loud, nourishing breath before he
continues. "I met this girl at a party and long story short, she accused
me of rape. My parents paid a settlement and haven’t spoken to me since. The
last thing my old man said to me was, ‘You have dishonored my corporation.’”
My body turns to ice. I am frozen, unable to move. He
senses this, I know he does, but he remains silent. He moves his body closer to
mine. I have no
way out, I never did. I prepare myself for the unwanted advances and the
painful thrusts of despair. I snap my eyes shut; I desperately try to get back
to she. I'm floating, I'm floating, I--.
"I didn't do it", he whispers, his breath
hot on my ear. He backs up. “She needed money, my family had that."
I am still tense, but I remove the cloak, allowing
myself to return to the elevator.
"My uncle didn't do it either", I
breathlessly utter.
"Wait, wh-"
"He had fallen on hard times so he was staying
with us". Now that I have started I can't stop. This really may be the
last time I get the chance to say it, tell it all.
‘"He ended up staying for four years. I was
six. I didn't believe in monsters until then. My monster came at night, after
lights out. He called those nights our 'pillow talks'. As our 'talks' went on,
the smiles, my smiles began to fade. At first it was only mild touching, and
light caressing on the outside. Then one night he said 'Mary, let's explore!' It
began with one finger, then two, and then three. When his grimy fingers were
inside me, he would stir and stir and stir. Then he would grunt and leave me
alone.”
I close my eyes, not to escape this time but to
grab that excruciating memory so that I could finally give it, its long awaited
burial. I gather my courage, my pain, and my fear all into one nourishing
breath and speak my truth. My mouth trembles as the memory pushes its way onto
the tip of my tongue, my teeth, and finally my lips.
"I think...I think that I was about eight.
Uncle had been living with us for a while now, which meant I had become
accustomed to our thrice weekly 'pillow talks'." I pause, gathering my
waning strength. I have been dead so long, Lord please revives me through my tale.
"As sick as it sounds I had actually grown
fond of our time together. Uncle was always gentle and kind, even though the
acts he were performing were not. The fact that I started looking forward to
our 'talks' solidified that I was in this too.
'Remember Mary', he would coo in the sweetest voice
you've ever heard on a man, 'this is our little secret'. 'Can you be a good
little girl and keep it a secret?' He would squeeze my little hands tight until
I agreed. So, I always did. I would gather my little bobble head and always
shake a robotic yes. I could never say no to Uncle. Grown-ups are always right.”
This is it; I think to my self, I am finally
letting go. I gather my waning courage into one sharp breath.
“ One weekend, my parents went on their annual
anniversary trip. Unbeknownst to them, they had entrusted a monster to watch
their baby girl.
'Mary get up', he says as he barges into my room
late one night. I don't move. I pretend to be asleep. I don't feel like talking
tonight, I miss mommy and daddy too much.
'Wake the fuck up I said!' he explodes. I scramble
out of my bed scared to death. He has never yelled at me before, certainly
never sworn. My toes are on the cool hardwood floor. I am shaking like a leaf,
terrified of what's to come. Without warning the lights turn
on. My little eyes
snap shut in response to the harsh change.
'Take off your clothes', his voice is menacingly
low. My huge hazel portals look up towards his. Besides my trembles, I am
frozen. I cannot move, only look.
'Now!' His barks awaken my limbs. I glide off my
Elmo nightgown in one swift move. I see his hand move towards his faded black
jeans. His hand moves in a circular motion near his zipper. He gestures towards
my lower half,
"That too", he says hungrily.
My tiny arms move towards my chubby eight-year old
legs. I lower my pale pink underwear to the floor.
"Umph", he grunts.
He looks me over greedily before he stalks over to
me. He hoists me up into his arm and slams me hard onto the bed. I scream out
in immense pain. He doesn't seem to care, and at that moment, I realize that he
never did.
My eyes are looking at his hands as he fumbles
around with his belt buckle. 'Click'. His jeans release a slithering one-eyed
snake. It captivates me as it inches towards the sky, seemingly growing in
length. Magic. He lowers himself so that he is directly on top of me. His full
weight is crushing me into smithereens.
'Mary, be a good girl for me you little bitch'. He
thrusts.
'Ahhhh-', I scream out as I feel a fire near me
belly, burning me from the inside, out. For the first time ever Uncle looks at
me in the eye, as if he is really seeing me for once. Maybe he is realizing
that I am only a little girl, his little niece. That thought is quickly thrown
out as I see the fire from my belly move into his eyes. He uses his full force
to slap me hard across the face. My head collides with the backboard of my bed.
The room begins to spin and the lights are slowly fading away. In my last few
moments of consciousness, I hear him trying to convince me…trying to convince himself,
'You like it you little cunt, don't fucking lie', he bellows 'yea you love this
shit'.
I feel him pumping harder into my little body,
breaking me in half, cutting me into pieces. Then, I begin to float into a
colorful kaleidoscope. The more I float, the farther I go. So, I float, I
float...I fly."
I take in a deep breath and exhale. In the breath,
I am not just releasing air. I am finally able to release my childhood scars,
the pain, his torture. I feel a single tear slowly roll down my left cheek. My
truth has finally been released.
"Wow", he says, sounding breathless.
"Just...wow".
"You clearly aren't a word connoisseur', I say
amused. I begin to laugh. It starts out as a low chuckle but quickly turns into
a loud belly aching roar. I am hooting, snorting, guffawing and snuffling. From
the other side of the elevator I hear him join in. For no apparent reason, we
cackle until we are struggling to breathe. We are still enjoying a case of the
funnies when the elevator light flickers on. This causes us both to pause and
collect ourselves. I turn towards him and for the first time, I really look at
him. He has
mop of curly red hair on the top of his head and His creamy porcelain
skin is a backdrop for all of his intrusive freckles. They splatter like
abstract art across his body. Tufts of ginger hair escape from his collar. His
smile wanes down as I realize that he is studying me as intensely as I am
studying him.
And for once, I do not care I let him look. I let
myself be visible.
Our eyes connect and I find myself hypnotized by
his gaze. The portals of his soul are a deep, dark entrancing blue. They are
like a watery whirlpool floating on a light, airy cloud.
"I was serious when I said that I didn't do
it", he confides in me. I leave the elevator in complete silence to let
his words sink in before I make my next move.
"I know."
His lips curl upwards and his blue eyes sparkle,
"You are the first person who believed me, not even my parents did.
Thank-you for that."
*Grumble* *Croak* *Rise*.
Before I get a chance to respond the elevator is
revived. The numbers sixteen and nineteen begin to glow again.
"Number nineteen, isn't that the roof?” he
questions.
"Mhmm.”
"Why were you-", he stops.
He gets it.
"So, what was on floor sixteen for you?’ I
ask.
He chuckles, "A court mandated job interview,
which I think I missed by now". I watch him as he stands up revealing his
staggering height. He looks down on me with those electric blue, soulful eyes.
"You know, believing that I was on the verge
of death and revealing my darkest secret to a stranger has made me pretty
hungry. Care to go out for dinner and uhh...talk?"
I giggle at the thought, "Haven't we talked
enough?"
"No", he answers seriously.
He reaches out his hand to help me off the ground.
I study the creases, arches, and lines colliding in his palm. I am not sure
when the last time someone offered their hand to me...or the last time I
accepted. I continue to gaze at his hands as he waits patiently at the door for
me, no longer she, but me to trust him. My hand begins to rise up a bit, moving
slowly through the air. My fingers shake as they begin to inch my hand towards
his. Right before our dials intertwine in a grasp of trust, we are interrupted
by a shrieking "Ping!'
