The Brute Read Count : 25
Category : Stories
Sub Category : Drama
She sits on the edge of the bed, knees tense, back straight. Looking around the room she thinks,
"I've got to get up and clean up and organize this place."
All around the room are stacks of magazines, read newspapers, Suduko books already worked, several empty plates with dirty forks, and bowls with spoons stuck tight to the bottom from soured cereal milk. The only ashtray is littered with butts, most smoked to the nubbin waiting to be squeezed for their tobacco contents for a second generation re-roll. The room is dark, cobwebs drape from the corners of the house to tightly drawn curtains. She listens to every car that goes by knowing that it's the one. She mumbles out loud,
" Where are they? They said they were just around the corner from me. Around the corner my ass! Which corner? One in New York City? It doesn't take more than fifteen minutes to get anywhere in this town and it's been thirty!"
She lights up her next to last taylor-made cigarette and nervously taps her foot, gets up and goes to the window anxiousley looking outside as if looking might hurry them up. No one is out there. She sighs then crosses the room and plops down in her circle chair, a 1950's retro chair on a platform with rollers, covered with turquoise tinseled upholstery, and a high round back. The whole thing spins around and around. It belonged to her Nana. As a youngster she would spend hours at Nana's farmhouse spinning around and around, as fast as she could, then quickly getting up only to walk with rubber legs giving Nana a good laugh! Now, like then, she spins, remembering Nana stuff, soon fading into a near trance, a dark place, an obtrusive dream, a Cameo memory, as if she was looking through a foggy window...It's Sunday, January 12, 1969, Super Bowl III, New York Jets vs. Baltimore Colts and the Colts are favored by eighteen points to win. But everyone here is abuzz about Broadway Joe Namath's swagger and unabashed boasts of a guaranteed win for the Jets. There's ten kids here, all in college, save us, me and my best friend, we were the babies of the crowd, only thirteen years old. We were at my best friend's oldest brother's apartment house close to the University. He was twenty-six years old and her next to the oldest sister, who was nineteen, came also. Seven other people, all in their late teens and early twenties, attended the get together as well. Wow, we thought we were so ever loving cool to be at this gathering with all the college aged kids!Along the wall sit two card tables covered with enough hors d'oeuvres and snacks to keep us all from starvation way past the end of the game. There's slices of banana bread, finger sandwiches, pretzels, popcorn, candy, cheese cubes, carrot and celery sticks, pickles, olives, fruit salad, chips, dip, soda pop, and for this college bunch, beer and wine. It was quite the spread! We all munched, talked, and discussed the statistics of the coming game's players and teams. Right before the game was supposed to start, my friend's sister decided to make a quick trip to the store for more ice and beer. My friend and three others wanted to go out with her. I started to go, but her sister said that her VW wouldn't have enough room for six, it was pushing it to take five along, so I stayed behind. Besides, they were going to be right back. I am a little disappointed, but I was also enjoying the lively banter surrounding me. The only married couple there went upstairs to their apartment to grab some more cigarettes, then the last two girls that were there left for reasons unknown to me; all of them said that they'd be coming back shortly. All at once, I'm alone in the apartment with him. He gets up and walks back to his room. As I sat watching TV he called to me asking me to come on back and talk to him until everyone else gets back. When I get to the room and step in he's bent over looking through a dresser drawer. Without a word, he stood up, turned and grabbed my arm, tossing me on the bed. He was suddenly on top of me, pressing hard lips to mine. I squirmed, kicked, and yelled out,"Stop!",but he quickly slapped his large hand over my mouth and nose. I could not breathe. I was no match for this six foot tall brute. He ripped open my blouse, tore off my bra, then bit my budding breasts. I tried to scream but I have no air. He jerked down my jeans and panties, then crammed his member between my legs causing me great pain. In my mind I was screaming," Stop, you're hurting me! No, God no! I can't breathe! No, no, no, stop it! "My eyes watered in fear and pain. I beat on his back to no avail. I was helpless under his tremendous weight. Then he got up and ordered me to go.I ran out of there into the crisp January cold. I dashed up the parking lot, around the corner, over the railroad tracks, and across Roosevelt Street to the northwest corner of the golf course we all had grown up by. Thank God I knew every inch of it. Running faster than I had ever run before, blinded by the snow covered ground, I dodged trees, sailed over greens, through sand traps, and around ponds, cutting diagonally over the course towards the southeast corner, then up and over the top of the high fence. I'm on Murdock Street and it's six blocks east to Oliver, a busy four lane throughfare. Barely looking left, right, left, I make it over Oliver and continue east four more blocks until I get to Pinecrest then I make a hard right south to Central, another four lane street. I must go on down Pinecrest to Second Street where my house is located. Up three steps from the sidewalk, three more to the front door, I burst into our home. Still running, I go up the staircase, around the bannister, down the hallway, and into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it. I fell to the floor. I am panting from asthma and relief. I was foaming at the mouth, saliva pouring out onto the bath mat. Snot crusted my nose and frozen upper lip; I had left my coat behind. I laid on the floor gasping for air. I don't know how long I was there. The event flooded my mind, I was afraid of what had happened, afraid of someone finding me there, afraid of the future. I am panting for breath, yet making no sound, no cry, not wanting to be discovered. Slowly my breath returned to me and I sat up. Shirt ripped, my tattered training bra hung underneath and my jeans were still opened, the crouch soaked with blood. I ran hot water in the tub, removed my clothes and got into the nearly scalding water. I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed some more. I laid down in the water until it completely covered me. The muted aquatic sounds that surrounded me calmed me. Then I came up for breath. I floated in the water for a long time listening to the air fill my lungs, then escape them, the rhythmic thumping of my heart in the background. Once out of the tub, I towel off. I am still bleeding down my leg. I just know that someone will be there knocking on the door, wondering why I was home so soon and in the bathroom for so long...KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCKShe was startled out of the nightmare fog, thankful to be released. She shakes her head hard.KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.Out loud she exclaimed,"O, they are here!"She rushes to the door and opened it quickly." What do you want, girlie girl?", said the dark tall figure. She replied,"A hun, man, do me right."She slipped the Franklin note into his hand; he pressed a tied up baggie into hers."Enjoy. It's fire!""Yes, I know, yours is always fire."She closed the door and locked it, handle, deadbolt, and chain. Then she quickly grabbed her glass. Opening the package carefully and pulling a boulder from within, she places the rock on the glass pipe. Flicking the lighter, she taps the flame around the edges of the pipe."Okay, melted good! Showtime!"She inhaled deeply as the thick Celadon smoke filled her lungs. As she finally slowly exhaled, all her visions of the Brute went sailing away.And the crows cawed outside.