“You little tramp!” he snarls. “What did you expect? Whoring yourself around like a common slut!”
Sobs wrack me now. My shoulders shake as I fumble for words. “Daddy…I’m so sorry,” I weep. But he’s not listening. Doesn’t give even a hint of compassion as he witnesses my utter humiliation.
“Don’t ‘Daddy’ me. You’re out!” he sneers. “Out of the school. Out of this life that we gave you.” I shake my head, not understanding, but he goes on, “Do you think the Dean of this college wants you here? Wants filth like you among his society princesses?”
There’s more laughter now. The “princesses” around me are cackling with smug contempt at the whore in their midst.
“Get out!” my father yells. “Get out of my house. Get out of my life. You’re not welcome in our world.” And then the words seem to be echoing around me.
Get out.
Get out.
Get out!
“Mom!” I turn to my mother. But she’s not listening. She’s turned away. And I’m not in the dormitory anymore. I’m facing my childhood room, with its pink ruffles and its unicorn bed. A room that leads to the one that used to be Kyle’s. But his space barely resembles the place my brother had inhabited. Every trace of him has been stripped away. My parents turned his bedroom into an office barely a month after his death. A death that had been unbelievable to me.
“Coward. Pathetic. Useless,”they’d said about Kyle. The golden boy who could do no wrong. Until he’d been pushed over the edge. Had their impossible demands been to blame? Or had it been something else? Because I never could accept that my brother would take his own life. Yet they brushed aside any questions I may have asked.
It had seemed incomprehensible at the time. I think of all the parents I’ve heard of who’d turned their lost children’s rooms into shrines. Yet mine had thrown away every memory of their son as if wiping the world clean of him. But that could never happen entirely. He’ll always live on in my heart. Even though there’s little time to think of that now. My father is still screaming in my face.
“Take your things!” His voice is as vicious as a beast as he thrusts something against my chest. It’s a black garbage bag. From what I can tell, it’s crammed with clothes, shoes, and whatever else they could be bothered to shove into it. “Take your things,” he repeats, “and fuck off!”
I back away, shaking my head. It’s a relief to be out of that dorm with its heckling girls, but being in this space that should be my home is even more horrifying. And still, I have no idea how I got here. I clutch the bag against my bare skin, feeling my father’s hate-filled eyes still on me.
And then I’m turning and running.
Running up the stairs to the small attic where our unwanted belongings were always stored. Unwanted, just like me. Like my brother’s things.
But among those things is a small wooden chest…a chest that Kyle and I alone knew about. A place to keep our precious things. It has two keys – one his and one mine, so we could both unlock the box and hide little gems of joy inside. My key nestles against my heart on a silver chain; I never remove it. Even last night when Mark was rutting upon me like a sweating pig. The thought makes me shudder. I reach for the wooden boxand quickly pack it into the bag that holds everything my parents will allow me to take with me. I’ll never leave this box of treasures behind. It’s all I have left of my precious brother.
Then suddenly, I’m standing in the doorway to the sprawling mansion that is my parents’ home. I’m dressed now. A crisp white cotton dress that’s stained red with my blood around my thighs. Another reminder of my disgrace. My purity shattered.
“Didn’t you hear him?” my mother says. I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “Your father told you to get out of our house!”
I know my eyes are wide with horror…and confusion because I can’t understand any of what’s happening. First, I was running naked through hallways, and now I’m dressed and in the doorway to the family home. What the hell is going on?
“Mom, I’m sorry,” I say, my voice cracking.
“Not sorry enough, you stupid girl,” she grinds out. “You spread your legs for the first boy who came along. Like a filthy tramp.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I plead. “He cares for me. I’m special!”
“The only thing special about you was your fucking virginity, you fool,” she snaps. “We had plans for that. And you’ve given it away. You’re useless to us now. No decent family will take you. Who would want their son married off to damaged goods?” She snorts, as if smelling something rotten. “You didn’t even have the decency towait for us to arrange a suitable marriage.”
My father is beside her now, hauling open the huge door to the entrance. I feel his hand, hard between my shoulder blades. He shoves me so roughly that I stumble through the doorway and then land on my knees. I hear the door slam shut behind me as I sink onto the marble stairs, curling onto my side. I still hurt so much. My body, my heart. Everything aches. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, then turn and reach out a hand.
“Daddy, please! Daddy…”
But I’m not on the front doorstep of the family mansion anymore. That image is fading as real consciousness finally takes hold. Thank God…it’s over. Those memories of a horror from a lifetime ago. I shake off the childhood nightmare I’ve woken from. And lurch into a new one.
Except this isn’t a dream. It’s reality. A reality that’s more nightmarish.
I’m lying on cold tiles. My body still aches. But the virginal white dress is gone. I’m in the jeans and t-shirt I’d been dressed in as I’d packed to leave. Everything comes flooding back. Packing for my vacation. The men in the elevator…the ones who’d beaten me. Drugged me. I groan hoarsely, trying to identify my surroundings. I’m in a room. A living room, from what I can make out. And as my vision clears, I make out a figure of a man sitting casually in a chair across the room. Horror begins to unfurl again as I take in his features, and recognition dawns.
“Hello, Andrea,” says Mark. And his mouth curls into a cruel smile.
Chapter 2
