PART TWO q – the Bad Thing

  "Yeah… then. Your mom."

  "I just kinda, love her to death, you know."

  "Oh. Me too."

  "Just, mom of the year."

  "Starting slow. Originally? I think there were two game pns. Your mom wanted you to get pregnant. To a kid with a nice daddy's car, so that there would be a second, single mom in the household. You know, double child support, double welfare. She was the head of the household. You were under 18. So double the cash and prizes, for her. Worse of a gold digger than you even thought."

  "Really."

  "Well, yeah. She went from dressing you up all country club? One day starts dressing you…"

  "Like a hooker. I know."

  "Yeah. Go on dates with older boys. Stay out te. You're allowed to have a few drinks. No rubbers, no pill. That? Oh, that's wrong. And if you get pregnant? That's fine… we'll raise it. Getting my drift here? It was easy. You looked older, tall for your age. And… the side benefit was, she gets to be the side piece. For guys with money. Probably worked them a little, to not tell on them. To the wives."

  "That would be mom."

  "Yeah…"

  "It gets worse. I'm just sure of it. This? Always does. Gift? That just keeps on giving. Like my ass. Go on."

  "Right… then mom nds the rich guy."

  "Okay. That's the original version. No mystery uncovered."

  He softly expined that this wasn't an advanced version of the keg party she liked to dance around the keg at. People weren't just bucking up to get the keg. This was more of a speakeasy, an illegal no taxes unlicensed bar he ran. Cover charge, not pitching in. Covered the keg. Liquor was being sold. Cocaine was being sold. She was installed as the stripper entertainer.

  She could buy that too, just like mom was deliberately trying to get her pregnant, to double her passive income.

  "All right. Pretty sure, your mom was a py toy for the rich guy. But… pretty sure she was getting paid. For you. To keep the son happy, to enhance the speakeasy. You said decent looking kid. Megabucks daddy. Where are all the girls? Had to be a reason for the girls not to come running for that deal."

  "Well. Date rapist… right?"

  "Yeah. Which was part of the reason your mom got paid. Which was part of the reason she forced you to stay in it."

  "Part… means there's another part. Which is."

  Her face and demeanor hardened more. Poor thing. But, taking it like a champ so far.

  "Here's where we take a side road, and go four wheeling. We can do this next time, or…"

  "Yeah. Let's just get the hell there, and get it the fuck over with, okay? Let's just do that."

  He went on to expin that he suspected date rape drug. And why. Then, it made no sense she was encouraged to have a few drinks. Then kicked around, for getting drunk. When she just stayed hard, he continued more. He worked in the cranberry juice, and how he had a crystal ball on that count. And why. How it "proved" his suspicions about the date rape drug. And… how that turned "it" the st time? Into "it"… every time he had date raped her, and she "felt like" he had gone around the world on her, rough while she was drunk.

  "Great. I guess once you were the town's garbage can for 12 hours one night, driven around some too, for more parties like the main one… not too much lost that it was a regur event. So what you're saying, really. I wasn't the town garbage can. I was the town garbage dump. Gotcha."

  "Christ. One st little bump, and… we can quit."

  "Aw, how bad could the st one be."

  "One more… mom and her motives, are obvious."

  "Naturally."

  He expined, as politely as he could, about how you beat prostitutes "correctly". Can't mark up the merchandise. Not on the ass, thighs, or face. Stomach bruises passed best. He did it so delicately, with such a vocabury and all, it was a marvel of tap dancing as he drew the picture and then colored it in.

  She just stayed hard, and nodded sagely.

  "So. That solves the mystery, why I got kicked around for being drunk. I was getting kicked around, because I remembered the whole thing. That st time."

  "Yeah. Then, dumped by megabucks because she didn't have a daughter to… offer up in such a manner."

  "To whore out, you meant to say."

  "She… gets her big cash out payment. The gag order, signing away your right to prosecute. Expins the ongoing… mother daughter talks. Why she hated your sports so much. Hell, you wouldn't talk to boys after that. She couldn't even fall back on the original get you pregnant pn. You started dressing like Hurry, doing schoolwork to get the minimum for a schorship. She lost interest in you entirely. You… could stay out holidays, nights, weekends. Practicing."

  "Yeah. Neglected until I won a game. Then I got a mother daughter talk for winning. It reminded her of how much I cost her in pimp cut."

  "There's… one thing though. Nothing great. I mean, there's no good in this story, but. Its something."

  "Oh. I gotta hear this."

  "Well. Two things, really. Thing one. You? Really did put a stop to the whole scheme. Your cranberry kick? You wanted to get magically clean?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well. It… actually worked. It showed you, what was going on. And… you put a stop to the whole program. It was good magic. It worked."

  "I give you that one. What's the second."

  "Let's say mom never moved from welfare program, to straight up prostitution. You? Would have never got with schoolwork. Would never have got into soccer. You? Would have ended up a gold digger, raised by a gold digger mom into her own image. You would have ended up a single mom at worst, a stripper at best with the dance training. But… you end up here. At one of the best universities to get your human retions degree at. You get luxury accommodations while doing it. You get a sort of a career at soccer. And, you're a… star. Its something. Then? You get a real career. Wear a suit, work in some office."

  "I paid for it all. Hundreds of times over. The juice? Wasn't worth the squeeze."

  "Didn't say it was. But… if you take the… squeeze in the middle out? Where you start, and where you end up? Phenomenal change. Its just… its something. I know. But…"

  "No. I get it."

  "You… really are remarkable. I mean, in four years, you accomplished so much. I used to think I was wonderful. On account of how much I changed in four years. But… you know, you really must have always been a really smart girl, Light. People don't just go. From welfare single mom. Probably just took the bare minimum csses, it never mattered. They don't just, knuckle down and make themselves get good enough grades at the st minute like that, to make up for all that lost time. Enough to squeak by, to get a schorship. I can't imagine, what you'd have been capable of. With a proper start in life, that way. You… sky's the limit."

  "But how impressive am I, when we get down to it. Just means I wasted it all."

  "No. Your mom wasted it. You didn't do a damn thing."

  "While I'm like… this. I mean how I feel right now. You want details? I can give you details."

  I cut in softly.

  "Honey? You don't have to. Little details? They can wait. You don't…"

  "Fuck it. I'm here. In this pce I'm in. Details… here's a little fact. You know why I can swallow a cock? You know. For real?"

  He stammered.

  "I… I don't…"

  "Not something I learned ter on. Not really. That st time? I remembered everything. That, was one of the things they… it was a popur, option we'll call it. Always thought I was just… rexed, or whatever. Drunk. Went right down. Every time."

  I ran to the bathroom. I now know when violently ill is coming on. Oh sweet Christ…

  "Details. There were guys that pissed on me. That's an interesting thing. You don't see much of that, in normal life, do you. Swellsville is the pce for that."

  "My bum. Now, there's another popur option. I read that when you're drunk? You can rex and take it like that. Once again, figured it was because I was drunk. Right on. Hurts at first? Not so much after. The rest of the night? Eh."

  My ass hairs are coming up and tickling my throat. I can't imagine what the echo of my retching is out there.

  "She's really going to have to toughen up. You know, to do this for a living. I mean, seriously."

  I'm crying while I'm convulsing. This is horrible, and I know its mild compared to her and what she lived with for years.

  "Not a detail, but… I wonder what I cost. I figure it was by the head, right? Hey. Word py for you, Wizzy. I know how much you like those, right? By… the… head."

  "Then. Since you livened up the party? Ten or twelve times, not just that once. Now, I gotta wonder. Was my… big night? Just a slow night? Wonder if I was a bigger draw the other times. Or, was that st one. The bnket, the park. Was that so more people could get in? You know. Outdoor venue. Really big concerts are held outside, they can fit more people in that way."

  "You know, how people sometimes want to treat their dog to a T bone steak? If anyone had a dog, wanted him to have a good time. By the head, right? Maybe the dog gets a freebie. Who knows. Goat, sheep. Wouldn't matter."

  I can't stop the dizzy. I can't stop the tears. I can't stop the convulsions. It feels like my spine is banging off my bellybutton, and I can't stop it. It hurts.

  "I know I got pissed on. That was a sort of every now and then thing. They appuded, that was… entertaining to them. Now, no one shit on me that night. Maybe one of the other nights. Who knows."

  "I wonder if anyone videotaped it, saved it. Sold it somewhere."

  "Now, here's a funny fact. Did you know, that there's an actual record, they keep track you know. Of the world's biggest gang bang? Serious here. Its up, st time I checked? Over 1800 in one night. That was years ago. Probably more now. They have rules. Now… here's the part that's weird. I was an actual whore. Not some slut. A real, honest to goodness, hard core whore. People paid, to fuck me. Half the town, and maybe the other half on other nights, who knows. But… the gang bang records? All free. Girls just do it. To get to be porn stars, or more famous of porn stars. I'm not even the biggest whore out there. Some sluts all got me beat. I'm not even in the top 10, probably not even the top 100. That? Is amazing. Those girls? No therapy required."

  "Oh. I can tell you what shit on a cock tastes like. Cause… you know… they moved around. From my ass to my mouth. Guys ughed and cpped, when they did that. It was like pissing on me. Round of appuse."

  That did nothing for my cramping and convulsing. Dry heaves got infinitely more painful. It feels like acidic foam is coming out of my nose and the corners of my goddamn eyes.

  "I can't believe I never got a nickel out of it. I just get sent clothes regurly. I don't know what that st big payout was? Must have been good."

  "Oh. Tell her I think I'm done now."

  "I'm… Light?"

  "Wizzy."

  "You… deserve the truth. Its all out now. There's nowhere else this can go now. You… just work on feeling less freaked out every time you rete it to Hurry. Until you don't get…"

  "Yeah. For what its worth? I feel sicker than she does in there. I just… I have a stomach. That's all."

  "Oh. Details. There was one… grandpa type there. I bet he's a swell grampy, you know, to watch your kids in the summer? I mean, no risk there. Sure he's great with kids. I'm sure that one hands out candy and Popsicle's to all the neighborhood kids."

  "Ages. Yeah. A few young dads, no surprise there. Young guys… teenagers… but? There was one dad and a young kid. Real young. Dad wanted to make sure he liked girls. Guess he was a little pansy or something. He wasn't but about younger than me. He looked like he wanted to cry. I don't know if he was the only person there with a conscience? Or… he just liked cock so much, sight of a girl made him bawl. Whatever. Never looked into that one. Not… my… problem."

  "Oh. Here's one. If you get come in your eye? Burns like your eye is on fire. You heard it from me. Watch beating off, Wizzy. One goes off, and plops down in? You'll scream, its on fire. I swear its true."

  "Its salty. Kind of… bitter."

  "Now. Positions. There's two main positions, when you're gonna be the life of the party. Really only two options. Then two variations. They hold your wrists and ankles. Face down, face up. Whatever. That varies. Now… after a while? You'll just stay on all fours for it. Or, y there spread out. You get… it just ends up like that."

  "Oh. You'd think you can only take three at a time? Not so. Two fits in your mouth. Why two guys want that? Don't know. But some do. One of the things I won't do now. Double holes? Uh uh. Unless I meet a guy with two dicks? Not happening. Now. Hands. You end up grabbing dicks. They put your hands on them, move them for you. You start doing it yourself, when you're on your back, not being held? Why, you would ask. Because… less dicks in you. Like it matters at that point, but… less stuff in you, I guess."

  "Oh, and that's where it gets in your eyes, and all over you. From the hands. Just squirts off. Bloop."

  Christ. I'm turning inside out. I can't do this for a living.

  "Oh! Diseases! I don't have any. And I mean, ain't that a kick? Not a one. Not even a… mushroom growing anywhere. Genital wart? Uh uh. You'd think I'd of got something? Nope. I'm clean as a whistle. Free checks a couple times, couldn't believe it. Figured I'd have something. Nope. Now, that's a clean small town, I say."

  "Now. Hurry will want the… psycho babble reasons. Her major. I… why do I rock boy's worlds? If I like the look of a guy, there's a thing, where I'm determined to… give him the best he ever had, best he'll ever get. As long as I can? For free. Because, I'm not… a… whore. Seriously, all those guys? They didn't get what they paid for, hope it was cheap. I just id there. My holes were… it just runs out, after a while."

  "Wizzy? Detail here. Factoid. You actually? Fart come. You rip this giant wet fart? Slop gurgles out. Everyone cps, cheers. Must be funny when you're drunk. Don't know how many it takes to get that? But… happens. Little known fact."

  "These fucking guys. You can afford a few drinks? You can't afford a condom. You can afford an underage whore? Can't buy a condom. I'm not sure anyone had one. Not only how don't I have one of every disease on the market, and a new one that needs studied? How the fuck am I not pregnant. Small mercies there."

  "Wizzy? Cop thing. You must know something about talking to victims. I think most people would go… oh, you're so brave. I mean, they always say that. To people went through horrible shit. You're so brave, you're so courageous. I'm not either one. When you're forced to do something? No bravery. Happening anyways. No courage, same thing."

  "Wizzy. For the life of me? You… make me feel like a virgin. You… why do you wanna even touch me, is beyond me. But… you treat me right. You won't even let anyone make fun of me. No one, and I mean no one? Has ever done that. I don't get it. But, you make me dance around the room. I can't get that feeling, anywhere else. I know why Hurry loves you."

  "Little Lightning?"

  "Yeah. I'm done."

  "I wouldn't have a Hurricane. If it wasn't for you. Its strange. I owe you… everything. You, gave me the best thing in my life."

  She sighed. I heard her exhale, over and in between my not surprisingly extra super violent stomach heaves.

  "You… all these girls? Except for Hurry, and you. Running games and cons. Cheating. Stealing. Charging, basically. But not you guys. Hurry, won't take anything for sex, on her… good girl pn. You? Got there a strange way, but… its some great morality. I don't care where you got it from? Its awesome, its rare. You have it."

  "Well. Now you know, Wizzy. When you saw me at the… sports girl railing we stand at that semester. That's my little smile. What its about. I can't believe… Toot. The original mister nice guy. He thinks… oh, boy. And the girl, Hurry. Aw, man. That's the smile you liked. What it meant."

  "Tell me. About the smile."

  "Here comes the original Mister Nice Guy. I can see you. Staring at me. Eyes all wide. Sparkly. Like there's a fshlight behind them. Like some little girl seeing a rock star at a nice restaurant. I smiled. Aw. How cute. You think some part of me doesn't know that I can look at you, tell you the moon is made out of cheese, and you buy it at that moment? Yeah, Wizzy. I know it. I know I can do that. But… I don't."

  "You think I didn't want to?"

  I can hear it creeping into her voice. I can't stop the cramps quick enough to get out and try to help. And the fuck good am I going to be anyways. I said no guys, only a guy got this working and started. I said no gang rape jokes, he makes them and they work. Only he can get her talking like this. The fuck good am I anyways. I can't even stomach to be in the same room when someone else does all the work for me. I'm completely failed as a prospective therapist.

  I can hear it, I can feel it. I can sense it. The hard edge, the tempered heat treating? Its peeling off. I can hear the little cracks in the vocal pattern appearing.

  "Yeah, Wizzy. I wanted to look at you. Tell you the moon was made out of cheese. More than anything. But I can't. You're standing there, staring at me. And I knew who you were. I knew you were single, and not just any kind of single. That kind of single. Not that sort of single, between girlfriends single. The other kind. Not the kind of single, where you're technically broken up, but, a phone call, an email and you're back. I knew you had no back, to get back to. Wide open. Completely avaible."

  "Because Hurry was my best friend. My only original friend. I had none coming here, what family I had more than hated me. The whole town hated me. I hated myself. Then? Hurry. I had to go back home, I die. Pin and simple. I owed her my life. Yeah, I knew exactly who you were. And? I knew what you were. I knew what flipped you from tails over to heads. You called it my Mona Lisa smile? That's why."

  "You think I didn't crave some nice guy? And I even knew the secret. Yeah. That's how honest I was, that's how honest I am. I even knew what you liked. You were going around to the sports girls, one by one. Trying. All I had to do? Say a cup of coffee sounded nice. Couldn't. Leave Hurry and owing my life to her out of it? The hell good was it going to do me anyways. I'm complete human waste. That's how I feel inside. I know I'm not, but, that's where you get to with all this."

  "All I could do if I gave myself that little treat? Was ruin it. I knew what she could do with it. She's not ruined. She's still all shiny and new. I decided, that I would do the best thing for everybody concerned, except me of course. I can't do anything but fuck a guy a while, that's it. Sex? As close as I could get to love. If I see love, I can't make use of it anyways. And there you are. All big eyed, staring. You kept coming back, trying. That was my smile. I can't. I'd ruin you, ruin my friend. I'd ruin everything. Like everything else I touch. If its not a soccer ball, or a cock? I ruin it. And the cock I screw that up in days or weeks, just takes longer."

  I could hear it coming in, creeping like a predator into the voice. The cracking, the quavering. What can I do. Bust into the room, heaving and spitting foam around. Can't talk, can't stand up, all but useless at my craft anyways.

  "Hurry wants to help me. You want to help me. You two are able to help me. Then… this way, too? How guilty are you guys trying to make me feel. I feel like I don't deserve anything. I know better and can't help it. I go around feeling… like… if I was dunked in rancid shit, and set loose in public like that? I'd be a little bit better off than I am. I don't know why I couldn't kill myself. I just can't. Too weak to do it, or too strong to do it. I don't know. I used to figure some weird sex disease would get me, but no luck there. Fate won't tip my hand. I'm… doomed to live. Cursed to live with this. That's how I feel. That's what that little weird smile, you liked so much really is."

  "The funny strange of it. The irony. The… bck gallows humor. Why ruin you, when I can go pick another one, and not fuck you and her up. All I had to do, was not tell the other girls the gossip I knew. Your secret. Then, everyone's happy but me. Which is the way it should be."

  She was cracking now. Starting to not sob, but… you can hear the breaking coming. Like a train wreck, and you can't not see it.

  "As bad as it is, it ends up being about 10 or 12 times worse! One guy goes hat trick on me drunk, then… the whole town in one night for some reason. No! It had to be the whole town, 10, 12, more? Times! Jesus H. Christ… and you know this, how can you sit there, and tell me I'm beautiful? I'm roadkill. I get to thinking you just have to be fucking with me, you have to be teasing me. I just keep waiting for the joke. And it never comes."

  "You both know, then you both know more. Now? You both know its a dozen times, at least, as horrible. That I'm at least a dozen times more… disgusting than I was when it was bad enough. She wants to help me more. You? Think, and I can't figure it, but… I'm better? Its like the longer this roadkill carcass cooks in the sun, the more you want to fuck it and love it. I don't get it. That's how I feel."

  She's starting to cry now, I can hear the little sobs coming. Fuck. Oh Christ, what's coming up now? There can't be anything left in there. Am I projectile vomiting out pieces of my intestines? The hell.

  "If I was one of Hurry's damn horses? She'd have pity on me. Take me out behind the barn, and give me the mercy of a nice, juicy carrot? And when I munch on it… a bullet behind the ear! I can't do a goddamn thing useful in this world, but kick a fucking ball into a stupid net. And everyone loves it. I don't get it."

  "I don't understand. I'm infectious human waste, you know it, and you still wanna be in the same room with me. Look at me, touch me, even… I don't get it, I don't understand, it makes no sense to me…"

  That was it. Tears, crying, sobbing. The big breakdown. What I expected, when she admitted the rape happened. That it was a rape, that it did indeed occur. No. Like a serial killer, that had to watch through his own eyes, the horrible things. Admitting it slowly in stages… that was her. It had to first be what would happen to him, in her fictitious joke "rape clinic". That was the first step. And bad enough at that. Then? Worse. Now? A dozen or more times worse.

  So yeah, here was the final breakdown.

  And speaking of the final breakdown? I'm actually threatening to finally get away from hugging the toilet and heaving lord only knows what up and into it… when my ass now gets into the act. I mean, I'm about to maybe make it out there and try to help out. To do what, I don't fucking know… and on my two steps to the door of the bathroom? I couldn't leave. Not without… we won't discuss that. Okay, we will. I don't want you thinking I didn't try. Because I did. I was seized by… Christ almighty. I barely got my stuff down and my ass on the commode when what I can best describe as a bck, oily mess came out. It kept coming out.

  Nervous, spastic… I want to be out there, trying to help him… and I'm stuck. I can hear him dealing with it though.

  She's yelling, hammering at him. With her balled up fists. He didn't do anything. He kept his mouth shut, opened it only to try to help. She's beyond anything reasonable now. He's dealing with that. I finally got done with… well, that. Now I'm out the bathroom, and I tear around the corner, and…

  Complete pandemonium, nothing left to salvage. It reminded me only for a second, of when she was riding him in her underwear and big sleeping T shirt? Except, hammering at him with her fists balled up. Thank god she knows nothing of fighting. I thought I had to tackle her and help him. No. He had this in hand. He had his legs wrapped around her, his ankles locked. His hands with his fingers ced behind her head, sort of controlling her. She was striking blindly in abject rage at him; it was ineffectual.

  He can sustain a fight with a man twice his physical size and rage level. Of course what was I thinking, he can control a girl going nuts. She can't really do anything of any note. Her hands with balled up fists? He rolls to the sides and his arms eat it up. He looks over at me, his face is calm. He actually winks. I got this, it tells me. Holy shit.

  She's… begging him to snap her neck, beat her to death, bh bh… she's completely lost it. If he had any shred of decency, why he would surely… if he had any sense, he would… and he just sat there through that. I stood rooted to the spot. Holy shit. It took a long time, but she finally lost her steam. Her strikes lost anything, and not that they were having any effect anyways. Her legs moving, her knees digging in had no real damage anyways, and they lost steam and advantage, too.

  She finally colpsed, into a hot steaming pile of sobbing and crying. Ironically, just as she had before. Astride him, clutching onto him for dear life. Crying into his neck. He held on, with his ced fingers while this fell into something he felt was reasonable before he began to let go. Tentatively, seeing how it went. Was this crazy bitch with any sense now. When his legs came apart it was barely, he was ready to re engage at a moments notice.

  When her attempts at striking him were finally feeble crying nothings, he finally realized he was done. He simply held on now to her shoulders, and she cried into him. I heard him sigh, the worst was over. Good god, I need another line of work to feed myself. I will goddamn starve if I pn on doing this for a living.

  I sat numb on the chair in the room, watching. He eventually rolled over on top of her, and completely controlled her. Her blind rages at unpredictable times were nothing now. Just like a toddler's unpredictable tantrum rages. He didn't care. He was used to dealing with actual dangerous men. This didn't even really rate on his Richter scale.

  Finally? I was of some limited use. I id next to her, he was on the other side. We each grabbed a wrist, and waited for it to subside. In the end, there was nothing but a gigantic pool of tears, crying, sobbing… nothing else. A vast deep pool of… despair. At the very end, she could only push gently on him to dislodge him. Knowing it was futile. He waited through even this. When her "pushes" became nothing but mere touches, he was done. He rolled off, and… she simply id there. Broken.

  Now, she grabbed him and cried. By now, and long since? Her only reasonably coherent thing was… why? Why? Why?

  Why? Did he… treat her so well, think so much of her, perhaps. Why? Maybe it meant, why had it all happened. Maybe… why was why had he even told her about the other 10 or 11 times, when she was content thinking it was once. There were a bunch of possible reasons why she said "why!" so many times, and sobbing and screaming and crying around the why's.

  In the end? It didn't matter. She finally fell asleep. Or passed out. Whichever. Her movements became more feeble, she was all gassed out. Her noises became inaudible and faded below registering as words.

  When she "woke", or regained… whatever. Her hair was a sweaty mess of tangle. Her body was weak. Her breathing was ragged. Her face was… out of it. She tried to… but just fell over and barely moved. I tried to offer some barely passable apology, I don't even know if he heard me. When she "awoke", she was… numb? Fugue? Out of it? Something.

  It wasn't dangerous though, and that was the important thing. When we finally heard beating on the door downstairs? That was Right. I ran down, and convinced her things were "not good" and would/could she stay the night at Lida's house. She asked what excuse to give. I said "whatever". She said nothing.

  Lightning said nothing, looked at seemingly nothing. Registered? Nothing. She finally keeled over and I would call it "sleep" but for wondering. When she awoke? It was… something resembling normalcy.

  He finally spoke to me. He said "your patient". Now that she was calm.

  He took a nap. I sat with her, but she just hummed and was out of it. He woke from his nap, and we just watched her. We were both quiet. She finally stirred, and was… normal, for ck of a better word. She apologized, but we ignored her. We put her to her own bed, and took turns watching her. It was okay now.

  Clearly, what the textbook had called a breakdown? Was insufficient in iterating how bad it could be. I can't do this shit for a living. You can give me big strong interns trained to fight and handle this… I can't. There has to be something else I can do with my degrees, surely.

  When she came around? She was quiet and apologetic. All he would say was 4 words.

  "Its not your fault."

  He had not wanted to get into this, I made him. Now? I wanted out, and he wouldn't give up. I felt ashamed. He talked to her. He got… details. Information. Little bits here and there.

  So. Where are we at now? Gee. Him and her, spent a couple days, her feebly talking to him. She cried a lot, but… not like that. No… none of that. I was ashamed. I couldn't face what I was supposed to be. What I thought I was. I was supposed to be the rape therapist. The brave exorcist, exorcising her demons. I was anything but, as it turned out. I couldn't even stomach the audible descriptions of what had been done to her. He somehow could. When it was over, she thanked me and hugged me. I puckered and cried with her, and hugged her back. She hugged me, as much as I hugged her. I was no rock in her storm. For all she had endured and came through? I could barely hear about it and get through it.

  How he could? I didn't know.

  It was all true, though. She had passed on his advances. She had told me about it. I greeted it with not much more than a yawn. She had told me about his "secret" though. It was when I got fully interested. She had been the one to coach me on the things that had interested him. Without her? He didn't exist for me. She was my best friend, I was her protector. She didn't owe me that? But, she did it. Me. Him. We did really owe her… everything. We both knew it. I had been willing to y down and cry and give up… he wasn't.

  Before all this, he had said no and argued against sharing and threesomes. I had made him. Fuck it. I loved him, he loved me. We had nothing but each other, and not even that? Without her. I couldn't turn my back on her, and call myself human.

  That fit, that spell? Was the worst and the st. It lessened after that. I could now… manage. I regained and cimed my title of "therapist", the exorcist of foul demons. But? Me and him, we knew the truth.

  He's a man. When you owe a debt? You pay it back. You owe your life and soul to another human being in the service? You pay that debt. That's who he was. And me? I was an honorary member of the boys club. I honored that same debt. By god, when someone gives up their life and soul for you? You pay it back, or you turn in your boy card. I wasn't willing to.

  When she was back, she was what I think of as herself. She was just weak and pyed out. Like a sick person that gets over a short but violent bug. I saw it as a short but pronounced depression. It quickly improved, then passed. She was… "her" once again. The textbook was back in control. I suppose the textbook was written with something more everyday in mind. Some girl had gotten drunk and was making out half undressed with a guy. He id on her and things went all the way. We teach girls that this is "rape". Its not violent rape, so we call it "date rape". Most of us snicker at it, and that's men and women. Language is not an accident. We call it "date rape" because some part of any rational educated person, understands that we're splitting hairs.

  The textbook covered that situation. The "depression" would be nothing more than the voice being a little quiet. If a girl met "some guy" she didn't know when out drinking, and ended up getting backhanded a couple times. Her clothes ripped off. Actually raped. The textbook seemed to cover that.

  If a drunk girl staggered down the wrong dark alley te at night. Got her eye punched shut, and kicked around until she could be dragged off caveman style by her hair, into some abandoned building. Thrown down, clothes shredded. Spit on, made fun of. Then used violently. The textbook? Seemed to cover that, too. It even probably covered the situation where some girl was invited by a stranger to a "party". Then got there, and she was early. Given a drink, to "wait". Then only boys showed up. Surrounded her. All grabbed her, and held her down and took turns. An actual honest to goodness gang rape. The textbook likely maybe even covered that.

  No, the person writing the textbook might have had a career in rape therapy, and never encountered… this. Sure, the textbook. The writer. The editor. They all meant well, they were trying their little hearts out. They discussed the betrayal and the loss of trust that happens, when for instance someone you love and trust and depend on as a child? Is the abuser. The uncle that molested when he was just supposed to be babysitting. The worthless drunken father, that might wander drunk into the daughter's room when the drunken worthless mother was out whoring around, every now and again.

  Not this. A mother, going this far. These things aren't supposed to be able to happen in today's world. And when they do? There's supposed to be yers of protections built into the "system". This sort of bullshit is supposed to be relegated to third world shit-holes. This goes beyond "betrayal". This walks into a whole new camp. Pure evil.

  The system understands that there's going to be alcoholic single mothers that physically abuse a daughter. That in the inner city? You will have the occasional crackhead mother that abuses her teenage daughter and tries to pimp her out for crack money. The narcissistic social climbing single mother, who is willing to overlook something amiss with the millionaire and her daughter. That's betrayal of trust. That ruins a child.

  But not this. The system even understands that some children are going to invent fantastic stories and enjoy the fun game of crying wolf. When the story is practically unbelievable, and the exasperated parent expins it rationally? Yeah. These things happen. You shake your head and walk away.

  I can see it. The busybody neighbor, who shakes their head at the next door situation. The gold digging single mother. The teenage daughter dressing like a hooker and going out on car dates while too young, with boys too old. Coming home at all hours. Then, when they hear commotion. Peek out and see the girl staggering around the front porch, the mother kicking and screaming at her for coming home at four in the morning, trashed. I can see them shaking their head, and going back to bed. The daughter deserves it, and you? Well, you're only half as bad as I thought you were. This should have happened a long time ago. Kick her again.

  The teacher in a small town. Young girl who was historically not interested in schoolwork. Dressed like an older girl, a regur Lolita. Already running around with older boys, mother running around with married men and whoever else. Eh, you'll have this. Fantastic story. Unbelievable, really. Guidance counselor. Story's outndish. Minor. Lolita minor, at that. Call the mother. Have a little talk.

  Oh, dear. This one? Has been running around with boys old enough to buy beer. Coming home at all hours. I can't do a thing with her. I finally had it, and drew the line when she came home at four in the morning instead of midnight, trashed off her ass, instead of smelling like a few beers. Yeah, she got her ass kicked, I've had it. I'm the mother. She made up this ridiculous story. Come on, use your head. So? You do. You shake your head and go back to work.

  Same kid wanders into the police station. Tells some uniform this story. Okay. I gotta get the Chief. This sounds bad. Hey, take her statement. Cop sent to take her statement? Oh, he was there too! He's in on it! Christ, call the mother. Story works. Don't believe me? Call her teacher, call her guidance counselor, for the love of god. Yeah. Get her out of here, dy.

  Which story makes more sense. Which story, is more easily believed. Occam's razor, cuts both ways.

  Its six months ter. Teacher wonders about that strange story. Watches the kid now. Suddenly? Jeans and T shirts. No more dressing like an adult girl out on the make. No more running around with older boys. Bragging about car dates, and parties. Mother? Running around with the divorced and richest guy in town. Kid? Suddenly dressing right, no more wild weekends.

  Oh. Kid didn't like the sudden cracking down. Mom's new rich respectable boyfriend? Not wanting embarrassed. Fantastic story? Aimed at every authority figure. Oh. Makes perfect sense. I notice she's starting to do schoolwork now, as well as no more running around and dressing right. Well, this is sorting itself out now, and for the better.

  Its now a year ter. Same teacher again. Asks around the break room. Gym teacher? Hey. Kid always has bruises on her stomach. Kinda looks like she… gets kicked. You remember that fantastic story. Could it…? You ask, do you think, maybe… Oh. I know she pys soccer. Soccer coach? Says she pys like a demon possessed. Big girl, fast, aggressive. Gets kicked in the stomach? Ah.

  The teacher, leans back in her chair in the teacher's lounge. Sips her coffee. What was I even thinking.

  Lightning recovered physically pretty quick. She's young, she's physically healthy. She's psychologically and emotionally tough as nails. The nail usually bends. She can break the hammer. Do I believe her story? Yes. I do. Far too many coincidences, far too many parallels. Between my observations, the textbook, and everything that transpired. If she wanted attention? There's plenty of girls that shop their sob story around, to get the attention for it. Rape is no different than attempting suicide like that a lot of times.

  Everyone knows the old saw. There's two kinds of suicidal people. The people that talk about it, and those that just do it one day. The ones that talk about it all day every day? Maybe. Its also a cry for help. Everyone knows there's people just go out and do it. No attempt, they get it right the first time. Everything seems perfect, what the hell. Rape can be just like that.

  Our society worships victims. Showers them with attention and praise. We create new csses of victims every other week, it seems like. Just like the suicidal people? You got lots of people running around, seeking the attention. And you got a few girls that weren't date raped. The ones that know what real rape can be like. Some of them won't say a word. Some of the st ones you'd think, too. And if I didn't live with Light and know about the car phobia thing? I'd never know. And hell, I have an idea what to look for.

  We told Right she was sick for a couple days. I think she bought it. When she came down for breakfast and was quiet and dragging ass, Right asked if she was at least starting to get over the bug. She nodded, and Right wished her well. She didn't eat much. Went back to her room. He went for an early morning run before we worked out, so he could sit with her while we worked out. We both took turns sitting in her room with her.

  So after a couple days, when she showed up for breakfast without any prompting, all on her own. When she asked for over easy on buttered toast, and got it. She was just a little quieter than usual, but otherwise back to normal. When Right tried to gently tease her friend about being the egg bitch? Light just ignored her and refused to take the bait. Well, she did look right at her once, and plop over easy on buttered toast into her mouth dramatically. Then chewed and made the "mm" sound, and gave her patented little smirk. Life was back to normal in the townhouse.

  She wouldn't hear about not working out. She had one light workout, recovering physically from her ordeal and not eating much for a couple days. Then a normal one the next day. Then? She started driving herself harder than ever. When I tried to tell her to take it easy, she stuck her tongue out at me and smiled. Asked me if I wanted my ring or not. Said this was the way to get it.

  Right generally likes to wait a little after a workout to get a bath and a fresh change of clothes then do her thing. I never noticed that as head of household and unofficial den mother, that I tended to bath first after the morning workout in the off season, then the others. I noticed it. I told Right to go first, and she did. I got told having my boyfriend live with me really did make me more livable. This got Right out of the house quicker and left me and Lightning free to enjoy the "spa package".

  She was quiet about enjoying her first post breakdown rubdown with me, and even turned down her shower and bathtub care. When she followed us into the shower and bathtub the next day and enjoyed the attention, then the rubdown after… her being back to normal status seemed more official. She slept with us after being back to normal a couple times, but we waited on asking her to join in any fun. Me and him had talked about this. If she wants to, fine. If we ask her, she might feel obligated.

  We avoided talking about it. I had my full confessional, and he had investigated and told her the full and unexpurgated truth. Getting back to that, could wait. I was ahead of schedule anyways. The client can come in on the first session, ready and willing to dump. Or, they can make you wait and then you have to slowly tease it out of them, bit by bit. Keep going over your notes, adding the bits together. You slowly introduce them to talking about more at one time.

  I had a garbage can dumped on my therapist desk in my cubicle. Then two more added to it, each bigger then the st. So yeah, I was ahead of schedule. Which meant she was ahead of schedule. Which meant we were ahead of schedule. And that was an important lesson for me to learn. Its one thing to be in css, getting lectured. Reading in the textbook, that therapy is about you helping the client. The client is not there to make you feel good about you and your career. If you take a self assessment sheet, and see that you're starting to look at a difficult client as somehow impeding your success and your rise to the top? You immediately go and talk with another therapist your damn self, and you relearn how to check your own baggage at the goddamn door to your office.

  The very best and most promising therapists, are at the most risk for this. A lesser therapist, can actually do better and get better marks from clients. Outperform you. Then, you can start trying harder, and get more frustrated. Some of the clients are very sensitive and insightful. They will pick up on your inner attitude. They can start telling you what you want to hear. You start believing again how wonderful you are.

  No, this started out with me being full of myself. I really did want to help her, but some part of me was eager to think I knew something. And while I did know something, I found out goddamn quick. I had bitten into a bigger mouthful than I could chew and swallow, hadn't I. I'm a big girl, I want coffee. No, little girl, coffee is for grownups. When the time is right? We'll give you a little cup, so you can even see if you like it. What did I do? I went behind my parent's back, my professor's back, and did it anyways.

  I decided I'd show mom and dad. I just poured myself a big old cup of hot coffee, I'll show them. And I burned my goddamn lips and tongue good. I went to the library while everyone was watching movies, and peeked into an advanced rape therapy textbook. Something in a ter css for me. Yeah. There it was, frank descriptions of the harder cases. Ones closer to this one I had bitten a big old bite of. I was expected to read franker and more honest case notes, until I had desensitized enough to sit there and take it without throwing up.

  He'd seen crime victims before, he'd heard their stories before, he'd helped investigate before. He'd already thrown up. He could have coffee with the adults. Our wild sex game worked against me here, too. Did you just tell me no? Did you just sass mouth me and backtalk? Well. Let me show you what happens when you do that, little boy. Mommy's belt is coming off now. Mommy tried the belt st time, so we'll just start with that. Now? Mommy's going to give you the brush. You like that? Sass me again. Oh, you do like the brush, huh? Let me give you something to really enjoy. Show me sass mouth again. Tell me no again. I dare you.

  He should have told me no. He knew or suspected something I didn't. Toddler knew that cup of coffee was hot, and tried to warn mommy. Watch out mommy, daddy poured that just now, you'll burn your lips. And mommy burned her lips good.