irony here. My rapist is the Chief of Police. The Chief of Police! I almost can’t stay in my seat. I grasp the door handle as if—what? Am I going to jump to my death? I just feel like I can’t breathe again. The hole in my chest feels like it’s growing to monumental proportions. Like everything on the inside of me is scratching to get out.
In the background I hear Dillon talking about his nephews and his sister in law. Nothing he says really registers in the thought processing part of my brain since my body is a shaking mess. I just make “Uh-huh,” noises so he doesn’t think I’m ignoring him.
“Sadie, what’s wrong?” he says, concern etched into his forehead. Oh, it’s okay. I’m good at this . I just turn my voice up to that sweet spot.
“I’m fine,” I say, blinking at him. That look says he doesn’t believe me. “We’re here,” he says, pulling up to the famous Mystical Gravity Tunnel I saw when I drove up yesterday.
“Oh! We’re going in there?”
“Unless you don’t want to,” he says, concerned again.
Oh, good. No, this will be a good change of pace. I can’t sit here realizing a rapist is in charge of the police department anymore. It makes me, what? It makes me MAD! That’s what this is. I’m freaking furious. I get out of the car and slam the little light door way harder than is needed to close it. I stomp in the direction of the metallic wolf guarding the metal building.
“If I tell you the secret will you calm down?”
“What secret?” I say, breathless as I pace back and forth like a ravenous animal in a cage. Where’s Numb Girl? She’d come in handy right about now. I don’t know this feeling I’m having right now. I don’t know what to do with all of these raging thoughts. I want to kill Donnie, rip him to shreds with my bare hands, boil his bones in hot water and watch him scream. Tell him ‘Good boy’ when I’m done with him.
When I look up Dillon seems absolutely helpless. “About how the Gravity Tunnel works,” he offers, uncertainly.
There’s just too many emotions battling in me right now. The only thing I can do is throw my head back and laugh. It’s a hard belly laugh—a stress reliever. I think I’m going to pee my pants if I don’t stop laughing. I try holding the laugh in and that makes me just keep giggling. I think I’m doing the pee-pee dance.
Dillon is on the fence. He’s part amused with that grin but then he’s also confused, hence the body language, hands up as if to show he’s no threat to me.
“No, I’d rather it stay mystical,” I say as I suppress the rest of my giggles by biting my thumbnail. “I need a restroom.”
“I thought you might,” he says dryly but then that grin comes back. My faults make him love me more.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” I say as I stand at an odd angle, my ankles tilted to the right, and watch Dillon climb the wall on the other end of the room as if he’s Spiderman. He was always good at climbing things—especially our favorite tree down by Rich Creek, the one that looked like a magic tree. The limbs were low enough that even I could climb it.
“I told you I’d tell you the secret,” he says, and turns around to face me, just his heels holding onto the edge of the wall bracket.
I shake my head no.
“Do you want to try the chair?” he asks.
“Okay,” I say, cautiously.
“Have a seat,” he says, and motions to the chair near the corner of the room. I sit down and he walks in front of me, so I cross my ankles. “Put your arms on my shoulders,” he says, as he bends down and grips his hands under the bottom of the seat.
“Haven’t we broken enough rules?” I ask.
“It’s just so you don’t fall,” his breath warm in my face. I close my eyes and experience his fragrance, feel the warmth of his body, imagine his scent and mine mingling in the air between us as if our auras were tangible things ready to coexist.
I place my arms on his shoulders and wrap my
In the background I hear Dillon talking about his nephews and his sister in law. Nothing he says really registers in the thought processing part of my brain since my body is a shaking mess. I just make “Uh-huh,” noises so he doesn’t think I’m ignoring him.
“Sadie, what’s wrong?” he says, concern etched into his forehead. Oh, it’s okay. I’m good at this . I just turn my voice up to that sweet spot.
“I’m fine,” I say, blinking at him. That look says he doesn’t believe me. “We’re here,” he says, pulling up to the famous Mystical Gravity Tunnel I saw when I drove up yesterday.
“Oh! We’re going in there?”
“Unless you don’t want to,” he says, concerned again.
Oh, good. No, this will be a good change of pace. I can’t sit here realizing a rapist is in charge of the police department anymore. It makes me, what? It makes me MAD! That’s what this is. I’m freaking furious. I get out of the car and slam the little light door way harder than is needed to close it. I stomp in the direction of the metallic wolf guarding the metal building.
“If I tell you the secret will you calm down?”
“What secret?” I say, breathless as I pace back and forth like a ravenous animal in a cage. Where’s Numb Girl? She’d come in handy right about now. I don’t know this feeling I’m having right now. I don’t know what to do with all of these raging thoughts. I want to kill Donnie, rip him to shreds with my bare hands, boil his bones in hot water and watch him scream. Tell him ‘Good boy’ when I’m done with him.
When I look up Dillon seems absolutely helpless. “About how the Gravity Tunnel works,” he offers, uncertainly.
There’s just too many emotions battling in me right now. The only thing I can do is throw my head back and laugh. It’s a hard belly laugh—a stress reliever. I think I’m going to pee my pants if I don’t stop laughing. I try holding the laugh in and that makes me just keep giggling. I think I’m doing the pee-pee dance.
Dillon is on the fence. He’s part amused with that grin but then he’s also confused, hence the body language, hands up as if to show he’s no threat to me.
“No, I’d rather it stay mystical,” I say as I suppress the rest of my giggles by biting my thumbnail. “I need a restroom.”
“I thought you might,” he says dryly but then that grin comes back. My faults make him love me more.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” I say as I stand at an odd angle, my ankles tilted to the right, and watch Dillon climb the wall on the other end of the room as if he’s Spiderman. He was always good at climbing things—especially our favorite tree down by Rich Creek, the one that looked like a magic tree. The limbs were low enough that even I could climb it.
“I told you I’d tell you the secret,” he says, and turns around to face me, just his heels holding onto the edge of the wall bracket.
I shake my head no.
“Do you want to try the chair?” he asks.
“Okay,” I say, cautiously.
“Have a seat,” he says, and motions to the chair near the corner of the room. I sit down and he walks in front of me, so I cross my ankles. “Put your arms on my shoulders,” he says, as he bends down and grips his hands under the bottom of the seat.
“Haven’t we broken enough rules?” I ask.
“It’s just so you don’t fall,” his breath warm in my face. I close my eyes and experience his fragrance, feel the warmth of his body, imagine his scent and mine mingling in the air between us as if our auras were tangible things ready to coexist.
I place my arms on his shoulders and wrap my
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