Past
“Do you think I ever fancied you? Do you think you were ever good enough for me?”
His questions were like a drill in my brain. I was barely conscious, and his voice sounded like it was coming from a broken radio. I kept counting the seconds in my head, imagining Oliver could still come and rescue me from the nightmare.
I was certain Christian had broken one of my ribs. I wasn’t sure anymore how many times he hit me. He was pouring his rage out on me because he couldn’t bear the fact that I would have chosen Oliver over him.
I opened my eyes, trying to move my wrists. Cold metal from the handcuffs dug deep into my skin. I couldn’t scream anymore, and the music from the party was even louder than before. Christian had thought about everything.
Later on, my last spark of hope had disappeared. No one was going to come to my rescue. Oliver had abandoned me; otherwise, he would have been there already.
Christian threw away the stick he used on me and approached my bed. My breaths were shallow. I wanted to spit into his face just so I didn’t have to look at him anymore.
“Now, I think I’m bored of these games. It’s time to show you what you’ve been missing out on.”
Christian knew how to ignite the fear in my veins. All the warmth and affection we’d shared was stripped away. He’d become a predator and he was feeding himself with vengeance. I just had to wait for this to end.
He leaned over and nibbled my ear.
“Please, baby, let me go. I won’t tell anyone. Please,” I begged, shaking with fear because I wasn’t sure what he was planning to do with me next.
He laughed. “I know you won’t, India. You’re too much of a coward. I’ve got huge plans for both of us, but now it’s time for me to claim what’s mine.”
I didn’t get what else he wanted to prove. He’d punished me enough already. His closeness sickened me.
I opened my eyes slightly as he circled around the huge bed. It was enough to see that haunted expression on his face.
“Christian ple—”
“Shut up, you stupid bitch! You’re distracting me!” he roared and ran his hands through his hair before jumping on top of me. His eyes shimmered with challenge and joy. The pain blinded me, but I still felt his touch on my thighs. Before I could realise what he was planning, he started fighting with my trousers.
I tried to shake him off, screaming with rage. Realisation hit me like a high-speed car along the motorway, and I fought with his grip because even the idea of this was making me nauseous.
“You know you want this, bitch. I’m going to fuck you hard so you won’t forget who you belonged to.”
Fear and dread seized deep inside my chest when he ripped off my panties and unzipped his trousers. I’d never slept with anyone. I always imagined my first time to be special, incredibly romantic, and slow, but I never thought I would be hurting so much.
Christian was way too strong to even try to fight him. I screamed at the top of my lungs, knowing I couldn’t let him do this to me. He kept laughing, slapping me harder, and before I could even prepare myself, he thrust himself inside of me.
I cried out, feeling like someone stuck a razor between my legs. Christian wasn’t going easy on me. He must have thought I lied and I wasn’t a virgin. He kept pulling himself into me harder, hurting me more than I could ever take. My ears were ringing. His dirty mouth was on my breasts and his tongue swirled around my body. I had no idea how long he was inside me. I remembered losing consciousness a few times, but every time I opened my eyes, I could see his face. He was in bliss.
At one point, I thought he was going to kill me. He’d caught me like a little monkey. I was in his cage, and he just had to complete this sick act and end my life. I must have passed out again, and when I woke up a few hours later, I felt empty and sorrowful. The party was nearly over.
“I’m taking you home. Go straight to your room. If you try to say anything to anyone, I swear to God I’ll kill you,” I heard him whispering into my ear.
He was holding me up when we walked through his house, still filled with people. He told others I was wasted and he was taking me home. No one asked questions. He’d made sure there was no blood or marks to alert them.
Then he dropped me home and I went to bed, scared he was going to be back. My mother was in bed so she had no idea what was happening to me. I was too petrified to even consider telling her.
Present
I finish that last letter and tears start dripping down my cheeks. I’m alone in the library, and I’m glad. I don’t want anyone else to witness what I’m going through. These memories own me. They are like living demons inside of me, and as long as I hold them only to myself, they will keep feeding off me.
I finally decided to write this last memory of Christian. It’s that one missing piece that can be crucial for Oliver and my future.
A few hours later after Christian had left me in my room, my mother woke me up stating there was an accident and Christian was dead. I had a chance to tell her then, knowing he couldn’t hurt me anymore. Instead, I burst into tears and continued to cry until dawn, unable to reveal the truth. I stayed in my room, trying to recover. I was scared to go to the doctor. Christian left bruises but only in the places where no one could see. Mum didn’t ask questions. She thought I was in pieces because of his death.
I tap my fingers on the edge of the table, wondering if I should send these letters today. I’ve been trying to tell Oliver my story, but it would be so much easier if he read it instead. I fold the letter together and slide it into my bag. A few minutes later, I leave the library, telling myself I’m over what happened. I’m over Christian. Now I just need to explain everything to Oliver. I can’t be completely happy with him while a secret like this hangs between us both.
When I walk into my apartment, Dora is already waiting for me. She has that look on her face, which tells me she’s ready for a long and painful interrogation.
“Hey, India, do you want some dinner?” asks Jacob, emerging from the kitchen.
“She doesn’t want any dinner, Jacob. She needs to tell us what’s going on. Are you and Oliver together now?”
I roll my eyes. Jacob looks gobsmacked; his mouth hangs open. Obviously, the news didn’t reach him yet, but I’m surprised Dora hasn’t discussed this with him.
“No, Dora, we aren’t together. We’re trying to build a friendship first, before we jump into a relationship. We just won’t be seeing other people for now until we work out what we both want,” I explain.
Dora folds her arms together and frowns, staring at me like she doesn’t believe in anything coming out of my mouth.
“What? Do you think we’re both stupid? You can’t be just friends. Since that party at Melanie’s house in Gargle I noticed neither of you can take your eyes off each other.”
“Dora, I don’t think we should get involved. It’s India and Oliver’s business,” Jacob cuts in, scratching his head.
I walk towards Dora. This conversation doesn’t involve Jacob, but I’m glad he tries to keep Dora away from my business.
“Give us a second,” I tell Jacob, dragging Dora away to the bathroom.
“India, what are—”
“Shut up, Dora, and listen.” I cut her off. “I hope you didn’t tell Jacob about Christian.”
“No, of course not.”
“Good, because I don’t want to discuss this in front of your boyfriend. The reason I’m holding off things between Oliver and me is because of Christian. Do you think I can build a solid relationship with him based on lies?”
She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she looks away, chewing her nails.
“So are you going to tell him?”
I sigh. “I will, but I need to find the right moment. He broke up with Rhian for me, and he says he doesn’t care about the past.”
“You both deserve to be happy. He treated you like garbage, but now you forgive him. Why aren’t you telling him? You were the
victim, not Oliver.”
“I don’t even know where to start. He will get angry that I kept this from him and that he wasn’t there for me when I needed him.”
Dora nods, finally getting that our future depends on this terrible secret. I know Oliver. He was always loving and caring, but he might not be able to deal with the fact that I hated him because of Christian, because he beat me up and raped me. Oliver never explained why he didn’t show up at that party. He was the one who could have prevented all this.
When we leave the bathroom, Dora promises she will keep her mouth shut for now. Oliver arrives later on, and we watch a film. While we sit, talk, and just hang out, I keep glancing at my bag, wondering if this secret is worth the pain I might cause later.
We both agreed to our new terms, but I find it difficult not to touch him. The images of us together on that sofa flash through my mind throughout the entire film, so it’s difficult to concentrate. Now I want Oliver so much more, knowing he decided to hold on until we’re both ready.
After the movie, Jacob leaves with Oliver. I don’t sleep well that night, faced with the most difficult dilemma. If I send this letter now, Oliver might not understand why I waited. If I keep pretending everything is fine, I’m still a liar.
I’m in love with Oliver. I’ve been in love with him since the first day I met him. I have no idea if he feels the same way. I don’t want him to blame himself for Christian’s actions. We both deserve each other, but there have been so many barriers. Will he still think the past is the past when he finds out I was raped and beaten by his own brother… because he didn’t show up to that party two years ago?
Present
Tonight is Oliver and my first official date. The chemistry between us makes our interactions much more difficult, and even though we tried to keep our new relationship casual, we can’t seem to stay away from each other.
Oliver isn’t the same guy who was doing everything in his power to hurt me. I know he isn’t acting when he’s with me. This isn’t one of his pranks. He’s trying for real to be with me, despite what everyone else thinks.
A few girls from the rowing team warned me to be careful because Oliver has never been serious with any other girl. They’re trying to tell me his bet is still standing, that he’s only doing this to destroy me later. I tell them they don’t have to worry because our history goes back to years ago.
A few minutes later, we enter the screening room. Oliver surprised me with the tickets for the premier of one of these big action-type thrillers, which I’ve wanted to see since it was advertised. We haven’t discussed yet how we feel about each other, but once Oliver goes down this road, I’m going to post the letters. It will be easier if I give him some space.
We haven’t touched each other since that day when he came to my apartment and told me he broke up with Rhian. That was our moment, when we were lost with each other, and it was precious.
Oliver used to be this quiet guy, he liked keeping to himself and never had many friends. I was always impressed with his long, black hair, his Goth look. Whenever I came to the Morgans’ house, he was always there, watching me, when Christian was too busy talking about himself.
We kissed for the first time in the cinema, when we were siting next to each other. Now over two years later, we’re back in the same setting. He squeezes my hand and my heartbeat thumps faster. My mouth goes dry. Oliver is trying to recreate that perfect moment. He knows my self-control can only go so far. He leans towards me and his breath is on my neck. The goose pimples keep sprouting all over my arms.
“You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now.”
That’s the problem; we both want to take this further. I turn to face him, tracing my finger along his strong jaw. His eyes widen and the air around us becomes dense. We are surround by people, and I know how annoying it is to see someone kissing in front of you.
“It’s better not to, despite how much I want to kiss you too,” I whisper back. A smile dances across his face, but he sits back and we continue watching the film. After the screening, we walk into a small bar and order a drink.
“Have you thought about your mother? You know, about talking to her?” I ask once we are both relaxed.
Oliver’s eyes sparkle with annoyance. He takes a sharp breath and smooths his hair.
“There’s no need to bring this up, India. It’s part of our agreement. We’re not supposed to talk about the past.”
His voice is sharp and he’s adamant that his mother doesn’t mean anything to him. It’s odd how fast he can lose that affectionate tone. Good and loving Oliver can change into cruel in a matter of seconds.
I sip my cocktail, wondering how to best tackle this conversation.
“She’s doing much better now. I’ve spoken to her, Oliver. She filed for divorce and then started therapy,” I explain.
“You spoke to her? But why? After I left Gargle?”
I knew if I mentioned this, the awkward questions would come. I want to tell him I looked after his mother when he wasn’t around.
“She didn’t have anyone else, and I thought I’d see how she was doing. I felt guilty about how I treated you in high school.”
He looks at me with reservation, finishing his pint. I’d known he felt angry and betrayed. His mother was trying to smooth their relationship, but he was having none it. He was leaving and he didn’t need her anymore.
Oliver never knew I was outside his house during his last night in Gargle.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Vengeance