Yes, Little Rock

“Hey, Alana, you feel the heat when he walked in?”

My brother laughed and crossed over to the couch, slamming his can of rum down on the surface of the coffee table.

“You know you’re totally into him. I saw your face go red when he mentioned how sexy you looked.”

My eyes were drawn to the stained carpet I stood on, my feet printing down on what was left of its fibres. My brother just never gave up.

The room was darkened and the TV’s images washed over my face, making my tears glitter and my face look like the moon’s reflection in a pool. But I was aware of my solitude within such beauty. My brother saw everything as it really was, and that was cold and hard.

“You slut,” he hissed as he took another mouthful of alcohol. “I wouldn’t fuck a girl like you for money. And don’t stand there like that – the TV on your face makes you look dead as hell.”

I stepped aside, stood silently and listened to him. I would sort through my thoughts later, in the dark alone. But I knew that if I tried to resist the lies now, I’d believe them. That’s what happened. The darkness let me know myself – but in the light with confrontation I was like a helpless animal drowning in the sea. So I waited.

“Listen, Alana.” The couch springs crunched as he stood up. I watched the can swing in the air as he groped for balance. He eventually got it and stepped closer me. My neck tingled nervously as his sweaty hand caressed it. My head went black slowly, like it sunk gradually down into darkness. I was so scared even my eyes were empty and sightless. His sodden breath warmed my cheek with its sweet sickness.

I was surprised. It wasn’t because of what my brother liked doing to me, but because of how soon it was. It was only yesterday, and he usually waited at least a week in between. That was why my stomach was choked with what felt like rotting knots of flesh. The shock of being unprepared destroyed me the most. It was too soon - I had not yet pieced back my body or soul together from last night.

But it was useless thinking. I had realized that self-talk kept me alive, but that was it. His other hand was cool as he dropped the cold can onto the floor and held my face. I looked into his eyes as he forced my head to be in line with his. His pupils were dark and large, his face was shadowed over because of the moon and TV behind him, and every movement of his spoke of confidence and expectancy.

I felt myself move backwards as his body pushed against mine. The wall I lent up was hard as he held me against it. He lifted my arms and pinned them above my head. He growled in my ear as he licked off a tear – I knew he hated how I cried. His groin was feeling me, and I cursed myself for noticing. He would kiss me soon. Swallow my mouth and push his tongue down my throat. And then he'd drop down and lick me with a smile of pure sexual enjoyment. I was right. His tongue slipped through my lips and slid around my mouth. Lower, he groped with himself, then unzipped his pants and licked me harder as they fell from his waist. It was a game for him, an ultimate game of fun and he was just a shuddering party boy.

My brother followed sick procedures every time and this would be no exception. My mouth was numb as he left it alone. Like a shadow he dropped down, kneeling in front of me. He expertly lowered my jeans and underwear without touching my skin. It was his thing. His element of surprise. In the light, his face was grey and hungry, not dissimilar to a vampire’s. He smiled up at me – I did not know what he was expecting. He looked away and sighed deeply, as if he was breathing me in. I think I wretched, but it was unnoticeable. I knew not to move. I’d be better off dead if I did. So again I waited, breathing as softly as I could and tried to close off my mind.

The phone rang. It cut through my mental barrier like a shard of metal. Even my brother jumped. He cursed. As he sprung up and made for the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of his face. It was plagued with envy, as if he felt cheated out of his game.

In my head, I laughed. The beauty of seeing him turn away from me, of the TV’s light to fall where he was just kneeling, to feel my pants slide back up my legs again as I did them up – these beauties left me breathless as I thanked the gods. My face shimmered wet as I cried and ran to the back door. It opened, I closed it behind me, and I could not feel my legs as they ran forward. My feet were probably bleeding against the rough tar surface of the road, but I was not affected. I was happy. I was free tonight. Tomorrow I would go home and find my brother pleading for forgiveness. And I would forgive him. But I left those thoughts alone as my heart beat against my ribs. I headed for the state park – and the shelter in it that had become my refuge.

To be continued…