It was one of those days where the attic air was thick and stifling and
smelling of the old paper flowers that still hung from the rafters after a
long summer. I plodded weakly along the hard floorboards, tired from a
restless night of terrifying dreams and the even scarier tingle that
erupted in my chest when I glimpsed the vision of Chris staring at me
through the rosy darkness. His eyes were so haunted these days. No longer
the vibrant blue of our childhood, they were now dull and gray, and ever
growing darker.
I wondered what kind of cruel fate had put the four of us here under the roof of a house ruled by the very evil its owners tried to keep at bay. Chris, the perpetual optimist that he was, always used to say that everything happens for a reason, and there is always a silver lining to the darkest of clouds. What was the reason now for our suffering? Where was the silver lining in this terror, this horror, this undeserved pain?
It wasn't just the whippings both Chris and I had endured, or the starvation, or being neglected by our own mother. The real pain for us was what we felt inside our hearts and minds… what kept prodding at our young skins and what kept driving us together when we knew we had to stay apart.
The real pain was the pang I felt in my heart every time I looked at my beautiful Christopher. The real pain was seeing his utter need for me written all over his face, and the sad hesitation that was a prelude to every touch he gave me.
As I perched upon the sill of our open attic window, I knew that I could do without food. I knew I didn't fear the crack of the whip or the steely eyes of Momma. I didn't have to see a silver lining in any of the clouds that loomed above me as I gazed out the window. But this torment of being with Chris every hour of the day, and being unable to ignore the stirring deep within me when our eyes locked and my heart began to flutter… it was absolutely unbearable.
Footsteps sounded down the long dark corridor behind me and I silently prayed it was one of the twins, though of course their tiny, sickly bodies didn't carry the weight needed to make such heavy steps.
"Cathy," he called in that raspy voice, "are you up here?"
I sighed, not wanting to answer him, but knowing I had to. "I'm over here," I shouted across the distance.
A few moments later I saw him appear around the corner, his blonde hair mussed in the most gorgeously natural way.
"The twins are asleep," he told me, "so I thought we could play Monopoly, or maybe we could read a book."
I could hardly look at him. "I don't feel like playing or reading right now."
"So you're just going to sit there and stare at the sky all day?" he asked cynically, mockingly. "Cathy, when are you going to leave those clouds behind and come back down to the real world?"
"And what does the real world have to offer me?" I demanded. "It's so ugly in here, Chris. So dark and dirty and scary. The sky and the sun are much more pretty to look at."
"I'm sorry I don't provide you with enough beautiful scenery," he retorted, and to that I had to smile bitterly.
"That's just it, Chris – you provide me with too much." That all too familiar ache began spreading across my chest then, and I wished he would just go away. But at the same time I wished he would stay and somehow find all the words to take away this agony.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you are too beautiful, so beautiful and tempting that it hurts," I answered in a thin whisper.
The silence that surrounded us was heavier than the dusty armoires we could never move up here in the attic. I wondered if he was angry with me for saying such a thing, for bringing up the subject of temptation… a sin for us, temptation was.
But who else could we turn these flourishing feelings to? There was no one else here… and even if there were, I doubted things would be any different, for what I felt with Chris, no matter how much I wanted to deny it, wasn't physical lust or sexual desire. It was his soul that I craved to touch, his heart I wanted to kiss. And nobody but my Christopher Doll, raised and molded to be exactly the type of man I knew I would always love, could fulfil my needs. Nobody but him... and he was the only person I couldn't have.
Chris fumbled with his words and I could tell that he was having a hard time choosing them. "Don't you think I know that?" he finally choked out, stepping closer to me. "Don't you think I hate looking at you because whenever I do it feels like my heart is being ripped in two?"
"Then go downstairs, and stay away from me, and we won't have to feel these things," I whispered.
Daringly he joined me at the window, so close now that I could see the flecks of green in his dismal eyes and how every strand of his hair shone under the spill of sunlight we were usually denied.
"But it feels like you're a magnet and I'm a helpless piece of metal." His hand drifted up to my shoulder where it lay precariously, and felt hot against my bare skin. His fingers played with the strap of my nightgown and I wanted to slap his hand away, but couldn't bring myself too. "I just can't help it, Cathy. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, Chris," I replied with tears in my eyes. "This isn't your fault. It's nobody's fault but our mother's and the grandmother's. They are making us into the exact thing they hate… so they can feel justified in punishing us like this."
"I wish I could take you away from here," he whispered as his rested his chin on my shoulder, and nuzzled his head against my neck. I shivered with the sensation of his flaxen hair tickling me. "I would break down that door and take you and Cory and Carrie out of this place if only I knew we could survive out there, with nothing and no one…"
I wanted to scream, we have nothing and no one here, either! But I knew it would only bring us into the inevitable argument of me pleading to escape, and Chris coming up with excuses to stay. The only thing I hated about my brother was that he couldn't stand up to our captors, couldn't bear to see what a witch his precious mother truly was.
But no… I didn't hate Chris, not one bit, not at all. How could I when he was so tenderly caressing my arm, dragging a single fingertip up and down my shivery skin?
It was these touches that drove me to the brink of madness, the touches that at first were comforting and consoling, a brotherly hug or kiss on the cheek or forehead here and there. But as the months and years were left behind so was our innocence, and what was once pure turned into something that felt sinful.
Chris was my brother… yet I longed for his fingers to continue making their fluttery path up my arm, longed for them to seek out the other places in me that he should never know about.
And so I didn't have much restraint when his lips grazed the soft skin below my ear. As much as it hurt to feel his breath and lips on me, it felt like an escape, like grabbing hold to a precious jewel in a sea of coal. Chris was my solace, no matter how forbidden this comfort was.
I didn't push him away as his lips traveled up my face and eventually met mine. His arms snaked around me from behind and I had to turn my face almost completely around to meet his kiss. Such a soft and pleading kiss, like the ones we always shared when we didn't quite know what we were getting into, what such a small kiss could lead to.
Soon I felt his hands on my breasts and I couldn't hold back a moan of the most exquisite pleasure and pain.
"See what I mean?" he murmured. "You're much too beautiful, in every way…"
"I can't help but loving you, Chris," I said breathlessly, reaching out behind me to grab hold of the hips that were now so thin and the ribs that were so malnourished. "God forgive me for what I feel."
"There is nothing to forgive, because without each other, without this love… we would have died a long time ago up here in this forsaken place," he told me with such fervor it almost scared me.
He gently pulled me down from the windowsill and I weakly fell into his warm embrace. I gave up all thought of resistance then, for I'd hidden these secret feelings and thoughts and desires for so long that I couldn't stop it all from rushing to the surface. His lips were in my hair, the long flowing hair he so loved, and his hands were on my shoulders, and I knew as he pushed down the lacy straps of my nightgown that this was it. This was the line we promised never to cross again… but he took me in his arms and carried me over that line, and I didn't protest.
And I realized then, for the thousandth time, that this was really all our mother's doing, and the grandparents' doing. They'd put us here, locked us up together to fend for ourselves, to give love to each other when we found ourselves lacking. And, boy, were we lacking! A grandfather who would despise our very existence if he knew about it, a grandmother who didn't hesitate in peeling the skin off our backs with her willow switch, and a mother… oh, what an awful mother, a mother who abandoned her four devoted children so she could have a much better life, a life of riches and splendor and everything she stole from us without a second thought.
Chris was right, as he always was. If we didn't have each other, we would not have survived this long. If we didn't give each other the loving nourishment any person needs to be truly healthy, we would have relented to the family's wishes long ago and just withered away. But even though we weren't very strong, and not really healthy at all, we were still alive, still fighting for the freedom we knew we deserved.
I found freedom in Chris's kisses, his caresses, the way he was so careful with me as I lowered myself to that same old smelly mattress that had symbolized the point of no return for us. He'd taken me on that mattress, and called it rape even though I did want what he wanted. I was just still a little scared then, and maybe not ready to commit such a terrible sin.
But now it was different. Now as Chris ever so slowly lifted my nightgown away from me, and I found myself poking the buttons of his shirt through their little holes until it fell away from his chest… I was not fighting it. I accepted it, and accepted that I wanted it, that we both needed it.
I remembered how Chris had slashed his wrist in order to feed Cory the nutrition of his blood. It was such a horrifying thing to see, but ten times more awful to know that it was necessary for our youngest brother's survival.
And now, wasn't what we were doing necessary for our survival? Like flowers, we would die inside without the loving sunshine. Chris was my sunshine, and I knew I was his… I knew I would always be his.
My entire body burned as Chris prolonged the experience, taking his time to awaken every tiny part of me, even taking pains to fan my hair out around my face like he so loved to do. He took my hands in his, and one at a time, placed tiny kisses in my palms, and then closed my fingers around them so they'd stay with me forever. And he gave the same kisses to each of my breasts, and my navel, and my forehead, and the tip of my nose, and finally his mouth met mine again. We kissed long and hard, passionately, and I could feel the heat of his body hovering above mine, but still a little hesitant to descend.
When our lips parted he turned his eyes on me, gazing deeply into mine with such a hot desperation it took my breath away. By looking into his eyes I could see into his soul, and how I loved that soul, how I loved the man he'd become, no matter how tormented and sometimes bitter. He was truly beautiful inside and out and I knew I would never, ever want to forget the beauty he so fully possessed on that hot late summer day when he made me his once again, when we did the thing we swore never to do again.
This time he didn't have to be sorry, and neither did I. This time it didn't feel dirty, or wrong, or sinful, or anything bad. This time it wasn't painful and over in a flash, leaving us in a state of wide-eyed blazing frozen shock. It was magical to feel Chris surrounding me, on all sides as well as everywhere inside me. It was wonderful to feel loved by him, and needed, and protected, like no one else could ever make me feel.
He buried his face in the fan of my hair and I could feel a tear slip from his eye to my neck, but I knew this wasn't a tear of regret. It was one of happiness and ecstasy.
And when it was over he looked at me and I saw his blue eyes brighten like they used to. The darkness left them and I cried too, glad that Chris was finding this tiny piece of heaven and freedom, when everything else seemed so cruel to him. He deserved so much better than this attic, than this meager existence… I only wished I could give it all to him. But the little bit I could offer did seem to be enough right now.
"I love you, Cathy, no matter what has happened before this or what will happen afterwards," he whispered shakily into my ear. "No matter what the grandmother says or what anyone else says… you will always be my Catherine Doll, my lovely lady Cath-er-ine."
"And will you always be my prince gallant in shining armor, riding on a white horse to come and save me from the evil witches in my life?" I asked, breathing hard against his neck.
"Forever." He held me tight against him and sighed heavily.
"I love you too, Christopher."
We clung to each other for a minute longer, feeling safe and warm, and really loved and happy for the first time in a time so long I couldn't even remember when it began.
We fell asleep enveloped with a quiet understanding that we'd done something considered wrong, but done it out of pure loving care. And as we drifted off into dreams, I was content in knowing that when we woke up, I would have my Chris there with me, and where Chris was… there was hope.
I wondered what kind of cruel fate had put the four of us here under the roof of a house ruled by the very evil its owners tried to keep at bay. Chris, the perpetual optimist that he was, always used to say that everything happens for a reason, and there is always a silver lining to the darkest of clouds. What was the reason now for our suffering? Where was the silver lining in this terror, this horror, this undeserved pain?
It wasn't just the whippings both Chris and I had endured, or the starvation, or being neglected by our own mother. The real pain for us was what we felt inside our hearts and minds… what kept prodding at our young skins and what kept driving us together when we knew we had to stay apart.
The real pain was the pang I felt in my heart every time I looked at my beautiful Christopher. The real pain was seeing his utter need for me written all over his face, and the sad hesitation that was a prelude to every touch he gave me.
As I perched upon the sill of our open attic window, I knew that I could do without food. I knew I didn't fear the crack of the whip or the steely eyes of Momma. I didn't have to see a silver lining in any of the clouds that loomed above me as I gazed out the window. But this torment of being with Chris every hour of the day, and being unable to ignore the stirring deep within me when our eyes locked and my heart began to flutter… it was absolutely unbearable.
Footsteps sounded down the long dark corridor behind me and I silently prayed it was one of the twins, though of course their tiny, sickly bodies didn't carry the weight needed to make such heavy steps.
"Cathy," he called in that raspy voice, "are you up here?"
I sighed, not wanting to answer him, but knowing I had to. "I'm over here," I shouted across the distance.
A few moments later I saw him appear around the corner, his blonde hair mussed in the most gorgeously natural way.
"The twins are asleep," he told me, "so I thought we could play Monopoly, or maybe we could read a book."
I could hardly look at him. "I don't feel like playing or reading right now."
"So you're just going to sit there and stare at the sky all day?" he asked cynically, mockingly. "Cathy, when are you going to leave those clouds behind and come back down to the real world?"
"And what does the real world have to offer me?" I demanded. "It's so ugly in here, Chris. So dark and dirty and scary. The sky and the sun are much more pretty to look at."
"I'm sorry I don't provide you with enough beautiful scenery," he retorted, and to that I had to smile bitterly.
"That's just it, Chris – you provide me with too much." That all too familiar ache began spreading across my chest then, and I wished he would just go away. But at the same time I wished he would stay and somehow find all the words to take away this agony.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you are too beautiful, so beautiful and tempting that it hurts," I answered in a thin whisper.
The silence that surrounded us was heavier than the dusty armoires we could never move up here in the attic. I wondered if he was angry with me for saying such a thing, for bringing up the subject of temptation… a sin for us, temptation was.
But who else could we turn these flourishing feelings to? There was no one else here… and even if there were, I doubted things would be any different, for what I felt with Chris, no matter how much I wanted to deny it, wasn't physical lust or sexual desire. It was his soul that I craved to touch, his heart I wanted to kiss. And nobody but my Christopher Doll, raised and molded to be exactly the type of man I knew I would always love, could fulfil my needs. Nobody but him... and he was the only person I couldn't have.
Chris fumbled with his words and I could tell that he was having a hard time choosing them. "Don't you think I know that?" he finally choked out, stepping closer to me. "Don't you think I hate looking at you because whenever I do it feels like my heart is being ripped in two?"
"Then go downstairs, and stay away from me, and we won't have to feel these things," I whispered.
Daringly he joined me at the window, so close now that I could see the flecks of green in his dismal eyes and how every strand of his hair shone under the spill of sunlight we were usually denied.
"But it feels like you're a magnet and I'm a helpless piece of metal." His hand drifted up to my shoulder where it lay precariously, and felt hot against my bare skin. His fingers played with the strap of my nightgown and I wanted to slap his hand away, but couldn't bring myself too. "I just can't help it, Cathy. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, Chris," I replied with tears in my eyes. "This isn't your fault. It's nobody's fault but our mother's and the grandmother's. They are making us into the exact thing they hate… so they can feel justified in punishing us like this."
"I wish I could take you away from here," he whispered as his rested his chin on my shoulder, and nuzzled his head against my neck. I shivered with the sensation of his flaxen hair tickling me. "I would break down that door and take you and Cory and Carrie out of this place if only I knew we could survive out there, with nothing and no one…"
I wanted to scream, we have nothing and no one here, either! But I knew it would only bring us into the inevitable argument of me pleading to escape, and Chris coming up with excuses to stay. The only thing I hated about my brother was that he couldn't stand up to our captors, couldn't bear to see what a witch his precious mother truly was.
But no… I didn't hate Chris, not one bit, not at all. How could I when he was so tenderly caressing my arm, dragging a single fingertip up and down my shivery skin?
It was these touches that drove me to the brink of madness, the touches that at first were comforting and consoling, a brotherly hug or kiss on the cheek or forehead here and there. But as the months and years were left behind so was our innocence, and what was once pure turned into something that felt sinful.
Chris was my brother… yet I longed for his fingers to continue making their fluttery path up my arm, longed for them to seek out the other places in me that he should never know about.
And so I didn't have much restraint when his lips grazed the soft skin below my ear. As much as it hurt to feel his breath and lips on me, it felt like an escape, like grabbing hold to a precious jewel in a sea of coal. Chris was my solace, no matter how forbidden this comfort was.
I didn't push him away as his lips traveled up my face and eventually met mine. His arms snaked around me from behind and I had to turn my face almost completely around to meet his kiss. Such a soft and pleading kiss, like the ones we always shared when we didn't quite know what we were getting into, what such a small kiss could lead to.
Soon I felt his hands on my breasts and I couldn't hold back a moan of the most exquisite pleasure and pain.
"See what I mean?" he murmured. "You're much too beautiful, in every way…"
"I can't help but loving you, Chris," I said breathlessly, reaching out behind me to grab hold of the hips that were now so thin and the ribs that were so malnourished. "God forgive me for what I feel."
"There is nothing to forgive, because without each other, without this love… we would have died a long time ago up here in this forsaken place," he told me with such fervor it almost scared me.
He gently pulled me down from the windowsill and I weakly fell into his warm embrace. I gave up all thought of resistance then, for I'd hidden these secret feelings and thoughts and desires for so long that I couldn't stop it all from rushing to the surface. His lips were in my hair, the long flowing hair he so loved, and his hands were on my shoulders, and I knew as he pushed down the lacy straps of my nightgown that this was it. This was the line we promised never to cross again… but he took me in his arms and carried me over that line, and I didn't protest.
And I realized then, for the thousandth time, that this was really all our mother's doing, and the grandparents' doing. They'd put us here, locked us up together to fend for ourselves, to give love to each other when we found ourselves lacking. And, boy, were we lacking! A grandfather who would despise our very existence if he knew about it, a grandmother who didn't hesitate in peeling the skin off our backs with her willow switch, and a mother… oh, what an awful mother, a mother who abandoned her four devoted children so she could have a much better life, a life of riches and splendor and everything she stole from us without a second thought.
Chris was right, as he always was. If we didn't have each other, we would not have survived this long. If we didn't give each other the loving nourishment any person needs to be truly healthy, we would have relented to the family's wishes long ago and just withered away. But even though we weren't very strong, and not really healthy at all, we were still alive, still fighting for the freedom we knew we deserved.
I found freedom in Chris's kisses, his caresses, the way he was so careful with me as I lowered myself to that same old smelly mattress that had symbolized the point of no return for us. He'd taken me on that mattress, and called it rape even though I did want what he wanted. I was just still a little scared then, and maybe not ready to commit such a terrible sin.
But now it was different. Now as Chris ever so slowly lifted my nightgown away from me, and I found myself poking the buttons of his shirt through their little holes until it fell away from his chest… I was not fighting it. I accepted it, and accepted that I wanted it, that we both needed it.
I remembered how Chris had slashed his wrist in order to feed Cory the nutrition of his blood. It was such a horrifying thing to see, but ten times more awful to know that it was necessary for our youngest brother's survival.
And now, wasn't what we were doing necessary for our survival? Like flowers, we would die inside without the loving sunshine. Chris was my sunshine, and I knew I was his… I knew I would always be his.
My entire body burned as Chris prolonged the experience, taking his time to awaken every tiny part of me, even taking pains to fan my hair out around my face like he so loved to do. He took my hands in his, and one at a time, placed tiny kisses in my palms, and then closed my fingers around them so they'd stay with me forever. And he gave the same kisses to each of my breasts, and my navel, and my forehead, and the tip of my nose, and finally his mouth met mine again. We kissed long and hard, passionately, and I could feel the heat of his body hovering above mine, but still a little hesitant to descend.
When our lips parted he turned his eyes on me, gazing deeply into mine with such a hot desperation it took my breath away. By looking into his eyes I could see into his soul, and how I loved that soul, how I loved the man he'd become, no matter how tormented and sometimes bitter. He was truly beautiful inside and out and I knew I would never, ever want to forget the beauty he so fully possessed on that hot late summer day when he made me his once again, when we did the thing we swore never to do again.
This time he didn't have to be sorry, and neither did I. This time it didn't feel dirty, or wrong, or sinful, or anything bad. This time it wasn't painful and over in a flash, leaving us in a state of wide-eyed blazing frozen shock. It was magical to feel Chris surrounding me, on all sides as well as everywhere inside me. It was wonderful to feel loved by him, and needed, and protected, like no one else could ever make me feel.
He buried his face in the fan of my hair and I could feel a tear slip from his eye to my neck, but I knew this wasn't a tear of regret. It was one of happiness and ecstasy.
And when it was over he looked at me and I saw his blue eyes brighten like they used to. The darkness left them and I cried too, glad that Chris was finding this tiny piece of heaven and freedom, when everything else seemed so cruel to him. He deserved so much better than this attic, than this meager existence… I only wished I could give it all to him. But the little bit I could offer did seem to be enough right now.
"I love you, Cathy, no matter what has happened before this or what will happen afterwards," he whispered shakily into my ear. "No matter what the grandmother says or what anyone else says… you will always be my Catherine Doll, my lovely lady Cath-er-ine."
"And will you always be my prince gallant in shining armor, riding on a white horse to come and save me from the evil witches in my life?" I asked, breathing hard against his neck.
"Forever." He held me tight against him and sighed heavily.
"I love you too, Christopher."
We clung to each other for a minute longer, feeling safe and warm, and really loved and happy for the first time in a time so long I couldn't even remember when it began.
We fell asleep enveloped with a quiet understanding that we'd done something considered wrong, but done it out of pure loving care. And as we drifted off into dreams, I was content in knowing that when we woke up, I would have my Chris there with me, and where Chris was… there was hope.