IV
As Cal's fingers traveled up her thighs, Gillian bit her lips to keep from screaming out loud.
No, no, no, no, no! Don't do that! Please, please, please don't do that! Please, Cal, don't!
"Okay, okay, okay! I'll take them off, just don't do that. I'll take them off, I'll take them off! Just don't do that!"
Cal pulled his hand out from between Gillian's legs and as she relaxed her knees, he slid her pants down to her ankles.
"Kick those off for me, love?"
He still has his pants on so I still have time. Just do this so he won't use his fingers.
Gillian slid her feet out of her pants and nudged them off the foot of the bed.
What do I do now? Think, Gillian, think!
Staring in her eyes, Cal began to unzip his jeans.
No. No. No. Do something Gillian. Think of something.
He slid out of his jeans faster than Gillian would have thought possible and then she tried bucking him off of her.
"Don't, Cal! No, no, don't! Don't do this!"
He traced his finger across her lips and made soft shush sounds until she stopped.
"Quiet, love, quiet."
Stop calling me love! Wait. Wait, wait. Hold on. I think I can get my hands on that knife.
Gillian smiled at him and used everything she knew about micro expressions to make her smile a hundred percent genuine.
"Cal, I'd love to run my fingers through your hair as we do this."
How is he going to react to that? I just tried fighting him off of me and saying no and don't, and now I'm acting like I want to make love to him. Please buy it, Cal.
His face changed in that instant, the rage he'd had throughout the attack replaced by surprise and pleasure.
"You would?"
He's buying it. Instead of looking furious he looks happy.
Gillian nodded, kept smiling and kept concentrating on making her face look happy.
"Yes Cal, I would."
Now let go of my wrists and leave that knife there.
"Hold on, love, this is dangerous."
Wait, what does he mean this is dangerous?
Out of the corner of her eye, Gillian saw Cal grab hold of the knife and pull it out of the pillow.
No, you were supposed to leave the knife! Just keep smiling like nothing is wrong, Gillian. He's not going to use that knife on you. He thinks you're going to make love.
Cal leaned toward the nightstand and slid the knife far onto the wood, out of reach of both of them.
Maybe I can still work that into my plan. Oh, who am I kidding? I can't get my hands on that thing.
"Thank you, Cal. That was dangerous where it was."
What am I saying? Oh, I'm beginning to feel that alcohol...ow, my head. It almost hurts as much as my body.
"Welcome, love."
He sounds so genuine and sincere. I cannot believe I am about to do this but it's the only option I have left.
"Will you make gentle love to me, Cal?"
Okay, I've said it. I have to do this. If I do this, and if I do it right, then Cal won't, maybe, won't hurt me so bad.
Instead of answering Gillian then, Cal kissed her on the lips, very light, and to sell him on her sincerity, she kissed him back.
"Yes, love."
Good, good. Now I could try...try to limit how much more he hurts me and I might survive this. Just work with him Gillian.
"Cal, I really need my hands to do this."
Please, please, please release my hands. I at least have a shot at getting out of this house and this bed and this situation if I can use my hands. Give me my hands and I may still keep my sanity.
Releasing his hold on her wrists, Cal smiled and looked happier than Gillian had seen him in the days since Emily died.
He looks so...gratified, like I'm helping him. I don't understand. I feel like I should, but I don't. I need to read his mind right now, instead of just his face.
As Gillian rubbed her wrists, Cal lingered over her body, straddling her chest with his arms.
"Ready, love?"
Is this what he needs? My love? Will that help him or just make him think he can get this whenever he wants through violence?
Cal waited for her answer, patient with Gillian as she continued rubbing her sore wrists.
What is going on in his head? Is Cal really all there or is he damaged by what happened to Emily?
His weight kept Gillian pinned and after the beating he gave her, she didn't have the strength to fight him off of her.
If I do this, is it the same thing as telling him, yes, you can do what you want with me, and no, the way you got it is not wrong, or is this the smart thing, and the best thing to do?
Buying a bit more time, Gillian smoothed her hair and rubbed her neck.
I'm gaining control over how this happens, because I see no more chances of getting out of this. I can make sure this is gentle, that Cal is gentle.
"Will you promise to be gentle, Cal?"
Please promise to be gentle. Please, because I cannot handle sex that is as rough as your foreplay and if you are rough with me anymore, I will be just as rough with you.
"I can be gentle. I'll be gentle."
Promise it! Promise it and be gentle or I swear I will bite chunks out of your arms and chest. Swear it on...I don't know, maybe what little is left of our relationship.
"Cal, promise. Swear it."
Please let this mad plan work. I've already been beaten and choked, I cannot handle being brutally raped, too. God, please let this help him. I want the old Cal back.
"Foster, I swear to be gentle making love with you."
Okay, okay, your face says you're being honest with me. Just continue being honest.
Gillian placed her hands on Cal's chest and looked into his eyes.
One last shot at ending this before it goes any farther. Now ask him.
With a very serious, very straightforward and very legitimate tone to her voice, Gillian used her last card.
"Are you sure you're ready to cross this line, Cal?"
At her words, Cal's face changed, but not back to enraged.
Hold on. His face. His expressions. He looks...Cal looks...unsure. He looks...frightened.
Cal took a deep breath and blinked a few times when his eyes became watery.
"I...Foster...I don't know if I am."
Is this Cal? Is Cal back? Or has this always been Cal and he's now realizing what this situation is?
"Cal, I-"
"Are you sure about doing this, Foster?"
I'm sure I want to get off this bed and have someone besides myself analyze you. I need to know what this outburst was, PTSD or Intermittent Explosive Disorder. And please let it be a was. Don't erupt over my answer.
"No, Cal. I'm not sure."
What does that expression mean? Is that clarity? Or is it...relief?
"You don't want this at all, do you?"
Well, to be honest, I thought our first time would be a unanimous decision, and not one that would come after you beat me.
"No, Cal, I don't want it."
Gillian cried as she said it and she closed her eyes as the tears flowed.
I can't do this. I just can't. I thought I could but I'm not that strong, if it even is strength that made me think this could save me. Just kill me right now, because I cannot go through any more of this.
The weight on top of her shifted, then disappeared altogether and when Gillian cracked open her eyes, she saw Cal sitting on the edge of the bed, settling his hand on the top of the vodka bottle.
He's going to drink and he shouldn't. Don't reach for the knife, Cal. Please don't get violent again.
Cal stared straight ahead and Gillian lifted herself up off the sheets, cautious about putting any weight on her cut arm and held her legs close to her chest.
Should I move slow or just ran for it? Grab my clothes and run or should I get that knife?
Before she could move in either direction, Cal grabbed the bottle and turned his head to look at her.
"Care for a sip, love?"
He offered her the bottle, but Gillian made no move to take it from him as she stared into his faded eyes.
Is this what it was before? His eyes seem different. Not dark and angry. Will he freak out if I say no? I might as well try saying it.
"I don't want any, Cal. No."
Cal shrugged, nodded, unscrewed the cap and took a sip himself before he spoke.
"All right."
He says all right? What next? Is he calm or is this the calm before the storm?
Her eyes stole a quick glance at the knife and Cal noticed and sat up straighter.
No. Don't grab the knife, Cal.
"Cal-"
"Want that knife?"