Songs About Me
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Rated M due to potential language, violence and/or adult subject matter.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything!
Chapter 14: Crawling
"Crawling in my skin / These wounds, they will not heal / Fear is how I fall / Confusing what is real" -Crawling, Linkin Park
Moonlight shines through Rachel's bedroom window. She's asleep, wrapped up in a blanket. She's tossing and turning. She seems restless. Bolting upright, Rachel gasps for air as she looks around her room. Everything is still the same. She runs her trembling hands through her hair. Glancing at her clock, she sees it's just after midnight. 'Ugh! I had that dream again. Why? Why do I keep having it? It's the same dream, mom and dad are fighting in our house in Hamilton and someone has a gun.'
Catching her breath, she wipes the sweat from her forehead. This is the third or fourth time in less than a week that she's had some version of this dream. 'Why do I keep having this dream? I've had it ever since I saw mom. What does it mean?' Lying back down, Rachel pulls the blanket up to her chin. 'There couldn't have been a gun. Mom wouldn't allow it; she hated guns. If there had been gunshots, wouldn't I remember that?' Many thoughts float through her mind as she begins to drift to sleep. Rachel hopes for a dreamless night.
In the morning, things are still quiet in the Roth household. Rachel's relieved her dad hasn't found out about her going to Hamilton but she's anxious that he will. She doesn't know how he'd find out, unless the doctor called him. That hasn't happened yet and she hopes it never will.
At the breakfast table, Trigon brings up the tonight's dinner. "Do you know what you're wearing, yet?"
Rachel pokes at her eggs. She doesn't want to go to this dinner. "I don't know."
Trigon grabs the morning paper before sitting down with his coffee. "Well, have you thought about that purple one?"
"What purple one?"
"The purple dress you bought for that school dance awhile ago. Why don't you wear that one?"
Rachel's surprised, "You remember that dress?"
"It reminded me of one of your mom's dresses so of course I remembered it. Besides, wouldn't the purple look good with your dark hair?"
Rachel can't get over the shock. She's talking about fashion …with her dad of all people.
That evening, she puts on the deep purple dress. It is a simple knee-length dress with an empire waist and spaghetti straps. A chiffon overlay on the bodice goes over the straps. This gives the illusion of wider straps. A line of rhinestone trims the empire waist.
She doesn't want to go to this dinner but her father insists. If she has to go, she wishes she didn't have to wear a dress. However, if she has to wear a dress to this stupid dinner at least it one she likes.
For some reason, Rachel's having a strange feeling about tonight. As she twists her hair into a low loose bun, Rachel tries to figure out this feeling. 'Maybe I'm just thinking about mom. Dad said this dress reminds him of one of hers. That or I'm nervous that dad finding out about me seeing her.'
When she goes downstairs Trigon's amazed by how his daughter resembles Angela. "You're the spitting image of Angela when I met her. You know, I met her when she was a little older than you are now."
"Really?" They haven't talked about her mother in years. Rachel wonders what brought this on.
Trigon reminisces, "Her parents were very strict. I'm not sure if she was rebelling against them but we feel in love. We got married just after she graduated. Within a year, you were born." He pulls out a box and gives it to Rachel. She glances up at him confused. "Go ahead, open it."
Opening the box, Rachel finds a necklace with a butterfly pendant. Amethyst gemstones make up the wings. It's not something she would've picked out for herself but it's pretty. She is surprised, "What's this for?"
"You're growing up. I just thought you might like something nice. Here, let me put it on you." He steps behind her and fastens the clasp. He stands behind her as they look into the hall mirror. He Trigon repeats, "You're growing up. You'll be going off to college soon. I know I've been a little hard on you lately. I'm just trying to do what's best for you. It's so hard being a single parent. I never thought I'd be doing this on my own. I don't like you being pain but sometimes I have no choice. You realize I'm so hard on you because I love you, right?"
Rachel has been toying with the pendant as her father spoke. She's been studying their features. 'We look nothing alike. I take after mom. I have her coloring, her eyes. The only thing dad and I have in common is our tempers.' "Yeah, I, I understand."
Trigon warmly rubs his daughter's arms. "Good, I knew you'd understand. We should go. I don't want to be late."
As they drive through the city, Rachel asks, "You never said where we are going."
"We're going to that French restaurant, En Saison. It was the client's choice." Rachel wonders what it'll be like. She's never been to somewhere that fancy.
When they arrive at the restaurant, they are the last ones there. The client, Nick Simmons and his wife, Claudine are already there. Slade is also there. Rachel doesn't know why she's surprised to see Slade there but she is.
Mrs. Simmons says, "Everyone, please call me Claudine. I just love everything French. Nick and I met at college in Paris. I would love to live there again. It is such a beautiful city. Rachel, you'll be going away to college in a few years, any ideas about where you'd want to go?"
Rachel shakes her head. "No, I'm not really sure where I want to go. I have kind of thought about a school out of state." She tries to avoid her father's eye. This is the first time Trigon's heard about this.
Claudine offers some advice. "You shouldn't count out Paris." She turns to Trigon. "I know what you're thinking, dad. It's too expensive and too far away. She could get scholarships and technology and travel are always improving so you'll always be connected. Like I said, Paris is a beautiful city."
Trigon chuckles softly. "I'm not worried about the money. Nothing is too good for Rach. I'm just surprised she would go so far away. We're really close, she's daddy's little girl." Rachel cringes.
When Claudine gets a call, she leaves the table so she can take it. She comes back and apologizes. "I'm sorry I'm not able to stay. I have another commitment that I can't reschedule. You know how it is when you're back in town; there's so much to do in such a short amount of time. It's a pleasure to meet all of you. Trigon, you have such a lovely daughter. I can see why you'd want to keep her close. Rachel, whatever you decide on, I'm sure you'll do great."
With Claudine gone, Rachel has no one to talk to. Rachel's sure tonight's going to be boring. She decides she can at least practice reading French. While the men discuss business, Rachel tries to translate the menu. She scans the menu, escargots a l'ail …calamars …steak tartare.
'Eww. Seriously, snails in garlic, squid and raw beef? Gar would freak out here. And everything's so expensive. Dad just ordered something that costs thirty-two dollars. They're all ordering things like that. I'd rather be with my friends having pizza or burgers. Isn't there anything I might eat?'
She keeps searching for options when she sees pommes frites. She smiles to herself; she can have the house salad and the pommes frites, French fries.
After everyone's made their order, Mr. Simmons comments about Rachel speaking French.
Trigon says, "She takes French in school." Rachel's surprised he knows this. Of course, she told him her classes at the beginning of the school year; she didn't think he'd remember.
Mr. Simmons says, "You do? Parlez-vous français?"
"Do I speak French? A bit, I speak a little bit. Un peu, je parle un peu."
"C'est très bon. En quelle année êtes-vous étudier?"
"What year am I in? I'm in my sec …um …Je suis dans ma duexieme année."
"Le français est une si belle langue. N'avez-vous pas d'accord?"
"Oui. French is a beautiful language." Rachel's not used to speaking it outside of class. They speak it in class but it's usually sentence structure and conjugating verbs. She's never had any conversations with someone who's lived in France.
"Souhaitez-vous dire chose en français?"
'Say something in French? Isn't that what I've been doing?' Um, thank you for inviting me to dinner. Je vous remercie de m'avoir invite a diner. Le restaurant est magnifique."
Beside her Slade mutters under his breath, "Tout comme vous mon petit oiseau. Just like you, my little bird."
Rachel hears him. She glances around the table. 'Did he just say what I think he said? No one else seems to have heard Slade. I wish I didn't have to sit next to him.'
The meal continues uneventfully. Rachel continues to be bored. She wonders why she had to come; they're only discussing business. With the exception of them talking to her at the beginning, they seem to have forgotten her. Rachel kind of wishes Mrs. Simmons didn't have to leave. Maybe she would've had someone to talk to.
Bored, she excuses herself from the table. She goes to the restroom to check for any messages. There's only one; it's Kori wondering if she want to do something tonight. Rachel sighs. 'Why couldn't I have gone with Kori instead being here?' She checks the clock on the wall. She's been away for about five minutes. She decides she should probably go back.
A waiter stops Rachel on her way back to the table, "Miss Roth?"
"Yes?"
"Your father asked me to tell you he'd meet you at the car." Rachel thinks that's a little strange but she doesn't question it; she's ready to leave.
The parking lot is dark and quiet. Rachel wishes they had parked under a light. She's not usually afraid of the dark but she wishes her father would show up soon. The car is locked so she can't even wait in there.
"Hello, Rachel," a male voice says from the shadows.
Rachel jumps. She recognizes the voice. "Mr. Wilson, what are you doing here?"
He steps out of the darkness. "Call me Slade. We've known each other long enough to forgo the formalities. I've watched you grow up over the past few years."
Rachel feels uncomfortable being alone with Slade. She repeats, "What are you doing here?"
He walks over to her. "I'm here to see you."
Rachel backs away from him. "My father will be here soon."
Slade chuckles, "Sweet Rachel, you know your father is busy with business. He's so busy he probably doesn't even notice we're not there." He keeps walking over to her. When Rachel backs up against the car, she feels trapped. She feels like her pounding heart is going to pop out of her chest.
He puts his hand on her shoulder. Rachel looks down at his hand.
When he speaks, she looks up at him. "Having a boyfriend has been good for you. You've bloomed from an awkward little girl to an appealing young woman. Your boyfriend must be very lucky."
Panic fills her eyes when he lifts her chin up towards his face. "I …"
He puts a finger on her lips. "Shh, don't say anything." He takes a step closer to her. He traces her lips with his finger.
Paralyzed by fear, she just stares up at him. Rachel's mind screams, 'This can't be happening!' He says, "You won't tell anyone about this, will you?" She slightly shakes her head no. "Good girl. We should go somewhere more private."
A car alarm shrilly sound off down the street. For a second Slade is distracted. That's enough time for Rachel to slip away from his grasp.
Rachel hurries back to the restaurant. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, she slows down once she enters the building. She gives the hostess a nervous smile as she passes her. She doesn't want anyone to know what almost happened. Her stomach churns thinking about what could've happened. She hurries the restroom.
She stares wide eyed at her reflection. Her skin is flushed. Rachel brings a trembling hand to her mouth. 'That didn't …he didn't try to …If that car alarm hadn't gone off how far would it have gone. Would he have …That bastard!' She slams her fists onto the vanity. "No! I wouldn't let him do that. I'm not completely defenseless. I …I'd never let that happen." She shivers at the thought of Slade having his hands on her.
A knock on the door interrupts her thoughts; it's Trigon. "Rach, are you all right? The waiter said you've been in here awhile."
Rachel struggles to keep her voice steady, "I'm okay. I'll be out in just a minute." She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. 'I have to calm down. I can't let on that anything happened. Nothing happened.' She splashes water on her face. Wiping her face dry, her breathing becomes steady. She jumps as her hair slips down onto her shoulder. She chastises herself, "Calm down. You can't be jumpy like that or dad'll know something's up." Rachel fixes her hair and takes several deep breathes before returning to the table.
Only Trigon and Mr. Simmons are at the table. Trigon explains that Slade was called away. Rachel lets out a small sigh of relief; she really didn't want to see him.
Trigon asks her, "What's wrong? Why were you in the restroom for so long?"
Rachel tells them the first thing that comes to her mind. She hopes Kori will forgive her. "I got a text from my friend Kori. She was upset because she's having trouble with her boyfriend. I went to the restroom to call her. I know you don't like me to use my phone at the table."
The dinner ends shortly. All the business details have been taken care of.
As they walk to the car, Rachel stays very close to Trigon. She scans the area but doesn't see anything out of the ordinary. She doesn't see Slade because he's in the shadows watching them.
A few nights later, Rachel decides to try making dinner. Even though she's had several lessons from Vic's grandma, Gayle, her cooking ability hasn't improved much. She needs to practice and decides spaghetti shouldn't be that hard. Instead of popping a frozen dinner in the microwave, something she's normally does; Rachel begins boiling water for the pasta.
She's adding the sauce to the spaghetti when Trigon comes home. Something must have happened at work because he's in a bad mood. Not wanting to add to his anger, Rachel slowly stirs as he grumbles about work. She sets the table as he goes up to change. When he comes back down, his mood has slightly improved. Rachel hopes it wasn't a bad idea to make dinner.
As they sit down to eat, Rachel remembers the garlic bread in the over. She jumps up to get it. It's a little dark on the edges but she hopes it'll still taste okay.
Rachel watches intently as Trigon takes the first bite. "This is pretty good. Who made this?"
"I did, I just wanted to try something. You really think it's good?"
"Not bad for the first time." Rachel takes a bite. She has to agree with her father. It's not perfect; some of the noodles are a little mushy. She grins. He's right, not bad for her first time.
After a quiet dinner, Rachel decides to do the dishes. She's almost done when a glass slips out of her hand. Time seems to distort. She watches the glass fall in slow motion. Rachel grabs for the glass but can't catch it. How can something seem to move so slow and too fast at the same time? The glass shatters on the floor. Up close, the sound is earsplitting. Rachel's ears ring as she franticly picks up the pieces, occasionally cutting her hands.
She has to hurry. She has to have it picked up before her father gets to the kitchen. She has most of it picked up when he enters. She apologizes while trying to not express any fear. She knows he feeds off her fear. His shoe nudges a good size shard. He picks it up and tells her to come to him. She hesitates. Sensing her anxiety he says, "You missed a piece. I just want to give it to you." Rachel apologizes again as she approaches her father. He says, "Put out your hand." She's uncertain but slowly holds her right hand out to him, palm up.
Trigon's large hand envelops his daughter's diminutive one. He tightens his grip of her hand and pushes her sleeve up. Curiosity and dread fill Rachel's eyes as her father pulls her arm to him. Trigon skims the shard over her forearm. It barely touches her. At first, she doesn't feel anything. He didn't really cut her; he was just trying to scare her. She yelps in pain and stares as a line of red beads up on her fair skin.
Confused, Rachel looks up at her father. Sneering down at her, he seems to be enjoying the fact that he's causing her pain. He goes to draw the glass over her arm again but Rachel tries to pull away. "No. No! No! Stop! Ow! Stop please stop! STOP!" She's terrified. She pulls with more strength than he thought she'd have. When he finally lets go of her, Rachel cradles her bleeding forearm to her chest...She feels her heart beating like crazy. 'Calm down. I have to calm down. Being this upset will only make it worse.'
"Next time you'll be more careful. Go clean yourself up. And don't get blood on anything." He throws the piece of glass away as he leaves the kitchen leaving his daughter staring at him in bewilderment. Why would somebody do that, especially to their child? Rachel's shaken from her thoughts as she feels blood trickle down her arm. She goes to the powder room. She sways some seeing her reflection. The front of her shirt is covered with blood, not drenched but it's more than she's comfortable with. She's afraid to look at her arm afraid of all the blood. She's always hated the sight of blood. Cautiously Rachel lowers her arm. She shoves aside the wave of nausea as she looks at her bloody arm. 'Come on Rachel get control of yourself. It won't help you any if you pass out. It probably looks worse than it is. Stay calm. Please stay calm.'
She washes off her arm and finds that it's not as bad as she thought. Some of the cuts are more like scrapes. Most aren't very deep they only scratched the surface. A couple of the cuts are a little deeper.
Rachel's attending to her injuries, applying ointment and bandages, when Trigon enters the doorway. She freezes, terrified by what he'll do next. "How're you doing?"
"Okay."
"Here, let me help you." He takes her hand. She has to resist impulse to pull her hand away. It reminds her of moments ago when he dug the glass into her flesh. She knows she can't let on that she's afraid. She chants in her mind like a mantra, 'No fear, no fear, no fear …' Helping her apply the bandages, he feels her pulse still racing. He chuckles, "Remember when you were learning to ride
a bike and fell; you freaked out about a skinned knee."
"Yeah …" 'and you laughed at me. You said any idiot could ride a bike, what was my problem.' "… never really liked the sight of blood."
"Okay, you're all set now. Let's watch a movie maybe a comedy, something to distract you."
Trigon takes his seat on the sofa. Grabbing a remote, he turns on the TV and begins flipping through channels. He pats the space next to him. "Come on. Don't you want to watch a movie?"
Rachel glances at the door. Where would she go if she left? Glancing back to her father she decides that he'd never let her leave. He'd never let their secret become known. Rachel cautiously sits down next to her father. She desperately wants to run to her room but her fear of her father keeps her here.
Occasionally, Rachel glances at her father from the corner of her eye. He seems so normal, he looks normal. His red hair was turning white at his temples but Rachel guesses that makes him look handsome, distinguished. He doesn't look like a guy who would purposely hurt his daughter. 'Why would he do that? Why does he hurt me? I don't know, maybe I deserve it. Maybe it is my fault. I did make him angry. That doesn't mean he has the right to hurt me. Most people can get angry and control it, right? What's going on? Why is it getting worse? Is it alcohol or drugs? Is he going crazy like mom? Am I loosing it? He acts like nothing's wrong. What am I supposed to do? I can handle the insults and a few scratches and bruises. How can I hide all of this when it's getting worse? What would happen if I told someone? No! I can't tell anyone about any of this. No one can ever know.'
Trigon brakes into her thoughts by laughing at the movie. "This is a pretty good movie, right?"
Confused. Rachel looks up at her dad then at the TV screen. "What? Oh, um, it's good." She forces herself to laugh even though she feels like crying.
Seeing that she's distracted, Trigon gives his daughter a slight hug. "Hey, you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm, I'm just …tired."
He smiles, "Too much studying last night?"
"Something like that. Would it be alright if I didn't finish the movie and went to bed early?"
"Sure, no problem. I can record the rest of it if you want me to."
"O-okay, if you want to. I'll watch it later." She remembers that there are still some dishes in the sink. "There are still some dishes to do; I'll do them before I go to bed."
Finding the right remote to record the movie, Trigon says, "Don't worry about it. I'll do it."
"Are you sure? It'll just take me a few minutes."
"Nah, go to bed. Get a good night sleep." He kisses her on top of her head. "Good night."
"Uh, 'night." Rachel goes to bed with tears in her eyes. Minus the blood and pain, this is how she used to dream how things would be.
The school nurse tends to the quiet girl's injuries. Alice Rogers, Rachel's guidance counselor, is in the room with them. "Rachel, what's wrong?"
Rachel says flatly, "Nothing."
Mrs. Rogers has to resist the urge to sigh. She keeps receiving similar one-word answers from Rachel. She's frustrated with Rachel's lack of expression and silence. She decides to try a different approach. In the principal's office she asks, "Rachel, you're a bright girl. Why would a girl who's smart and pretty want to hurt herself like this?"
Rachel fights to keep her emotions in check. 'I didn't do this. My dad did but I can't say that. No one would believe me. Everyone thinks I'm a freak because of what he did to me.' Angry tears sting her eyes. Rachel quickly wipes away the tears but not before the others notice.
Mrs. Rogers tenderly touches Rachel's shoulder but Rachel pulls away. "Something is wrong or you wouldn't be on the verge of tears. What's wrong? Is it school? Did you have a fight with your friends?" Rachel quickly shakes her head at both questions. "You have boyfriend, right? Is he pressuring you?"
"No. It's nothing. It was just an accident. I didn't mean …" 'it shouldn't have happened and nobody should've found out.'
Mr. O'Donnell, the principal has been observing. "You didn't mean what, Rachel? You didn't mean for it to happen or for people to discover what you've been doing to yourself?"
Insecure, Rachel pulls her sleeves further down over her hands. "This was an accident. I would never hurt myself like this." Even to her own ears, she doesn't sound every convincing.
"Hmm, I think we'll have to monitor you."
Mr. O'Donnell's secretary knocks, then pokes hers head in the door. "Mr. O'Donnell, Mr. Roth is here." Rachel looks up in shock, 'What's he doing here?'
"Send him in."
Starting to panic, Rachel partially stands up, leaning towards the adults. "You didn't need to call him. I'm okay. I promise I won't cause any more problems. I promise I'll be more careful. I won't let anything like this happen again. I promise, just don't get my dad involved."
"When we have a serious situation with one of our students; it's our responsibility to inform the parents."
Suspicious, Mrs. Rogers wonders aloud, "Why wouldn't you want us to call your father?"
"He's going to be so …'furious with me.' …disappointed."
Seeing her father enter the room, Rachel slowly sinks down in her chair. The principal stands up, "Mr. Roth, I'm Mark O'Donnell, the principal and this is Alice Rogers, Rachel's guidance counselor."
Trigon shakes hands with the adults. He notices Rachel sitting in a chair; she looks like she's trying to make herself smaller. He can tell she's trying hard not to show any emotions but he can sense how terrified she is. He wonders if she told them about the other night
"Mr. Roth, you're probably wondering why we called you here."
Trigon takes a seat, "I have to admit I am curious. Rachel's never been a problem. Is she in trouble?
Mrs. Rogers says, "Rachel's not in trouble. Well, not in the way you're meaning. Rachel seems to be a troubled young lady. We've discovered evidence that she's been hurting herself."
Trigon glances over at his daughter, causing her to shrink down slightly. 'What do they know? What did you tell them?' "What do you mean she's hurting herself? Is it drugs?"
Mr. O'Donnell looks over at Rachel. She keeps pulling her sleeves further over her hands while she stares at the floor. "No, it's not that. It appears your daughter has been cutting."
"Cutting, what does that mean?" Trigon asks even though he knows what they're talking about.
"It's very complicated," says Mrs. Rogers. "For some people, cutting or self-harm can be a way of coping with problems. I know that doesn't make sense to us but it can be a way to express feelings you can't put in to words, a way of distraction, or release emotional pain. They feel like it's a way to feel in control."
"So why cutting?" asks Trigon.
Mrs. Rogers gets up and walks around the room. "Teens, like your daughter, sometimes feel the desperate need for relief from bad feelings. They just don't know any other way to express those feelings."
"Rachel's hurting herself because she's sad?"
When Mrs. Rogers puts her hand on Rachel's shoulder, Rachel shrugs it off. "It's more than that. They often feel isolated, that they can't share what they're feeling. Sometimes, they have a mental health problem. Other times they have gone through a traumatic experience. They see cutting as a way to cope."
"Is Rachel cutting as a way to get attention?" 'You're going to pay for this, my darling daughter.'
Mr. O'Donnell says, "No, she's been doing this in secret, she doesn't want to draw attention to herself."
"She just has a few cuts, right? If they aren't that bad then it's not really serious is it?"
Mrs. Rogers goes back to standing next to Mr. O'Donnell. "It doesn't matter how serious the wounds are. The truth is your daughter's hurting; that's something to be concerned about."
"Does she need to see a doctor about this? Is she … is she suicidal?"
"First of all, let me say, I don't believe Rachel is suicidal." Rachel's counselor says, "She's just attempting to feel better. However, that's how it can be compulsive, the more a person does it the more they feel the need to do it. They may start to feel a false sense of relief. As far as seeing a doctor, it might be good for Rachel to talk to a professional. She needs to figure out what's triggering her to self-injure. She needs to learn other ways to deal with overpowering emotions. Mr. Roth, your daughter's not weak or crazy. She needs help discovering her inner strengths to help her heal. Then she can cope with life's problems in a healthy way."
"Don't judge her, Mr. Roth, that could make things worse. Support her and encourage communication. In Rachel's case, I've noticed she locks many things inside her. Try to get her to talk about herself."
Trigon looks at his daughter in disbelief. 'What did you tell them?' He feigns concern, "Rach, is this true?"
Rachel remains silent. She wants to sink through the floor, freeze time, anything to get away from these scrutinizing adults.
Mrs. Rogers says, "Rachel, it's okay. We're here to help you."
In her mind Rachel screams, 'You have no idea what kind of help I need.'
Trigon asks, "Are you sure she's doing this to herself? Could it have been an accident?"
Mrs. Rogers says, "Rachel, sweetie, push up your sleeve."
Rachel hesitates but she slowly pushes up her sleeve. She gains nothing by defying them. Everyone sees her bandaged forearm. Only Trigon and Rachel know what really happened. Once they're done analyzing her, Rachel quickly pulls down her sleeve. She hates seeing the bandages. To her, they're a symbol of her weakness.
Rachel sits there as the adults discus her. 'I'm not like the person they're describing. Sure, my life is kinda messed up and maybe I exhibit some of the "symptoms". I'm not gonna physically hurt myself.'
She's brought out of her thoughts when Trigon says, "Thank you for informing me. I had no idea she was so upset." He squeezes his daughter's shoulder as if to comfort her but he squeezes too hard. Rachel refuses to flinch. She knows it's a warning; she's in trouble. Trigon continues, "I'll make sure she sees someone about this. I'm sorry she caused an inconvenience."
Mr. O'Donnell says, "It wasn't an inconvenience. I want all of the students to able to learn. If Rachel's distracted by her problems she can't learn and grow. Every student should be able to do the best to their ability.
As they leave, Trigon thanks the principal and counselor again. His daughter dreads going home and he knows it. They walk through the school in silence. They continue in this manner all the way to the car. Rachel braces herself for the onslaught that she's sure is to come. During the car ride home, there's a false sense of calm coming from Trigon. Rachel knows he must be angry. She wonders what he's planning.
Once they're home, the eerie silence continues. It isn't until they enter the house does Trigon show some of his anger. He slams the front door shut, causing Rachel to flinch slightly. He notices his daughter's action.
Trigon growls, "Get out of my sight. I don't want to see or hear a thing from you." He roughly shoves her towards the staircase. Rachel stumbles up the stairs as she runs to her room.
In her room, she locks her door. She tries to figure out what to do. Sitting on her bed with her knees pulled to her chest, she stares at the floor. She slams the heel of her hand against the side of her head. 'Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! How could I have been so stupid? I was so stupid and careless. Did I want someone to find out?' She stops berating herself to think about that. 'I thought I was being careful. Or was I careless on purpose? If someone discovered my secret, they would help me. Wouldn't they? But that's not what happened. Oh, they learned that I'm in trouble but they got it all wrong. They think I'm hurting myself. I'd never do that, hurt myself. At least I wouldn't do something so visible. I'll never let him know how hurt I am. I'm not gonna dad that satisfaction.'
What can she do? Looking at her window a thought enters her mind. 'I could run, leave here. Where would I go? I'm sure he'll come after me. I can't put my friends in the middle of that. If I tell anyone what's happened to me, will they believe me? Of course not. Who's gonna believe me? According to dad, I'm just a stupid girl.' She tells herself to stop listening to her father's lies.
Rachel's thoughts turn towards what her punishment might be. If he got upset about a misplaced paper then she knows he's not going to let a major slip up like this slide. Hearing glasses clank downstairs she knows he's getting drunk. She can't help but be filled with dread.
Hearing her father's voice grumble downstairs, she opens her door a crack. It's a one sided conversation. Curious, Rachel goes out into the hall. He seems to be on the phone. She leans over the railing to listen. He's talking about business.
Rachel has a shimmer of hope. Maybe talking about business will tone down his anger some. That fragment of hope is blown apart when Trigon hangs up the phone. He stomps up the stairs. Rachel retreats to her room, locking the door quickly. He stops halfway up the stairs. He bellows, "Rachel, get your ass down here! NOW!" When he doesn't hear her coming down he yells, "You don't want me to come up and get you!"
As she slowly goes downstairs, she feels like she's walking into a lion's den. She just gets off the steps when the barrage begins. "What the fuck happened?! What the hell did you tell them?!"
"I didn't tell them anything. They just got this crazy idea."
"Honestly, do you think I'm a fuckin' idiot? They didn't just get that idea! What happened?"
"One of my cuts broke open. I was trying to stop the bleeding and re-bandage it when some girl saw me. I guess she told a teacher. I swear, I didn't say anything."
Furious, Trigon throws his glass of alcohol at Rachel. She ducks as the glass shatters on the wall. What's left of the liquor rains down on her. "You fuckin' bitch! Now they'll be watching you!"
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean for anything like this to happen. I'm sorry!"
He grabs her by the arm, "You're fuckin' right to be sorry, you little bitch! You think I've been hard on you before? You're gonna hurt like hell when I'm done with you."
He holds onto his daughter with an unyielding grip as he unfastens and pulls his belt off. Rachel tries to pull away but he whips her with his belt. She curls up on herself; her back's to him. She tries to protect her head with her arms. She screams for him to stop. Each strike makes her cry out in pain.
Suddenly Slade rushes in, "Trigon, stop! What the hell are you doing!"
Trigon growls, "She has to be punished."
Slade pushes Trigon away, "You've done enough!" Slade sees Rachel crying, huddled in the fetal position. "You've done enough. She's suffered enough."
Seeing his daughter in this state, Trigon storms out of the room only to return a few minutes later.
Slade offers Rachel a hand to help her up. She cautiously accepts it. Slade says, "Come with me, I think your father needs some time to calm down."
Rachel is suspicious. "What'd you mean come with you?
Slade says, "You two need some time apart. You can't stay here while you're both upset. You're coming to my place while things settle down."
Terrified, Rachel's eyes dart between the two men. She doesn't know what to do. Stay with her father, who just beat her or go with the man who could hurt her. Slade seems to read her mind, "I'm not going to harm you."
At his apartment, the doorman opens the door and says, "Good evening, Mr. Wilson. Might I have a word with you, sir?"
"Rachel, go in and wait by the elevator." After Rachel enters the building, Slade turns to the doorman. "Yes, Wintergreen, what did you want?"
"I know it's not any of my concern, but isn't that girl a little too young for you, sir?"
"You're right. It isn't any of your concern."
"Sir, is she even legal? That girl looks like she can't be more than sixteen." Slade ignores him
Once inside his apartment, her eyes dart around. She's nervous about being alone with him in his place. She jumps when he asks, "How badly did he hurt you?"
Shaking her head she says, "I'm fine." Her actions betray her words when she winces as she puts her hand to her back.
Slade says, "Let me make sure you're all right."
Rachel mutters, "I said I was fine."
He chuckles softly, "Damn, you are stubborn." He goes over to her and starts to lift the back of her shirt.
She spins around and scowls at him, "What are you doing?"
"How else am I supposed evaluated your injuries? Are you going to let me help you?" Rachel continues to glare at him. "Fine, you'll find what you need in the medicine cabinet. The bathroom is the second door on the right. I'll be finishing some work if you need anything."
He leaves Rachel standing alone in his apartment. She looks at the door, tempted to leave. But where would she go? It's not as if she could go home right now. There's no way she could go to her friends; she can't let them know her secret. With a defeated sigh, Rachel slowly walks to the bathroom.
In the bathroom, with the door securely closed, she searches the medicine cabinet for ointment and bandages. This so similar to the events she experienced a few nights ago. Finding them, she sets them at the sink and turns her back to the mirror. Carefully, she lifts the back of her shirt up. She winces at the sight of the welts on her back. Rachel tries several times to apply the ointment on her back. She's not having much luck; either her shirt doesn't stay up or she misses the wound. Frustrated, she sits on the toilet seat. She debates with herself about what to do.
Slade hears her almost childlike voice calling for him. He smiles; he knew she would need his help. He finds Rachel standing in the bathroom doorway. He asks, "Did you need something?"
Averting her eyes, she says quickly with a small voice, "I, um, I need your help."
"What was that?"
Annoyed, she clenches her fists. She repeats in a louder, irritated voice, "I need your help, okay. You were right. I can't do it by myself."
They enter the bathroom. Slade says, "Okay, I'll see what I can do. I need you to take off your shirt."
Her large eyes widen with horror, "W-what? Why?"
"That will be the easiest way for me to tend to your injuries." Seeing how she eyes him suspiciously, he sighs. "We're not going through this again, are we? I'm not going to hurt you."
"You tried to hurt me before."
He says, "I'm not going to do anything while you're injured. If you want my help you'll have to do as I say."
Rachel considers her options, and then says, "Would you please turn around?"
Slade almost laughs at her request. "You don't have anything that I haven't seen before."
Rachel drops her gaze to the floor as her face reddens. She turns her back to him and awkwardly pulls her shirt over her head. She clutches her shirt to her chest.
Slade is amazed at the amount of welts and cuts on the small teen's pale back and arms. Her long-sleeved t-shirt did little to protect her. He notices the bruises forming on her arms. Slade knows about Trigon's temper. Seeing her bandaged arm, he wonders if this isn't the first time he's harmed his daughter. It's not really any of his business so he doesn't say anything.
He pulls washcloth out of a drawer and runs it under warm water. Every move he makes, Rachel watches intently. He signals for her to turn around which she slowly does. She flinches when the damp washcloth touches her skin. Before she can react, he deftly unhooks her bra. She spins around. "What are you doing!"
Wearing a smirk he says, "Would you relax. I already said I'm not going to hurt you. Now turn around if you want me to tend to your injuries."
Clutching her shirt and bra tightly to her chest, Rachel turns around. Slade continues to clean off her abrasions. She grabs the edge of the sink to stabilize herself. She bites her lip, refusing to cry out when he reaches the part of her back that got the brunt of the attack.
She asks, "What were you doing there tonight?"
"What was I doing at your house?" She nods. He begins to put the ointment on. She flinches at his touch. "Trigon was called out of an important meeting and he forgot some paper that he needed. I was just dropping them off when I hear your screams."
Rachel's now shivering. "Thank you. I can handle the rest on my own."
"Let me put some bandages on the worst ones."
She sighs, "Fine." Slade smirks at her stubbornness.
Her shirt smells like alcohol. The smell is sickening to her but she tries to suppress it. Slade notices this. He hands her one of his t-shirts. "Here, change into this. I'll throw your clothes in the wash." Rachel reluctantly takes it. She watches him as he leaves and wonders why he's helping her.
When Rachel enters the kitchen where Slade is, she's painfully aware that she's wearing his shirt. It hangs on her slender form like a dress, almost reaching her knees. She hands him her jeans and shirt. She's exhausted but she doesn't want him to know. Her knees suddenly start to buckle but she clutches the table to for support.
Slade steps up behind her. He takes hold of Rachel's upper arms to support her. "Let me help you."
She weakly says, "Let go. I'm fine. I don't need anymore of your help." After shrugging Slade off, Rachel steps away from the table to prove she's all right. He keeps following her, he doesn't want her to collapse and hurt herself even more. She's half way across the kitchen when she sways slightly. He grasps her arms again. Rachel feebly repeats, "I'm fine."
"You're exhausted. Let me help you."
"No. I-I'm …" Rachel's voice weakens as her head drops and she slumps back against him.
She's vaguely conscious of Slade's actions. He wraps one arm around her, supporting her torso. He bends down to slip his other arm behind her legs. He lifts her up, cradling her against his chest.
Her eyes flutter open. Seeing that she's in his arms, Rachel begins to fight. She pushes against his chest. "No! Put me down!"
"Calm down. Stop making a fool of yourself," he demands. "I'm not going to put you down." The aggravation in his voice causes her to freeze. He sounds angry like her father.
Rachel looks at her petite hands touching his solid chest. Realizing how powerless she is, her hands fall limply to her lap. Clenching her fists, she squeezes her eyes shut. 'He's right. How could I have been so stupid! I came here with him. Nobody's gonna believe me. It'll be my word against his. Oh God, what'd I get myself into? I should've stayed home, maybe dad would've killed me, and then this wouldn't be happening.'
Feeling the teen begin to tremble in his arms, he looks down at her. Seeing her worried expression, Slade says, "I'm not going to hurt you. If I was going to do anything, I've had plenty of opportunities. In fact, I could have taken you several times by now if I'd wanted to."
With heavy eyelids, Rachel glares up at Slade. "How comforting," she mumbles. Her eyes glaze over and she loses consciousness.
Slade carries Rachel to the guest room. He lays the unconscious teen on the bed. While watching her even breathing, several thoughts run through his mind. Deciding to be honorable, he leaves the room.
Rachel walks home from school. When she gets home, it's almost dark out. She's annoyed to find the front porch light isn't on. Rachel has to search for her keys in her backpack in the dark.
"Hello, Rachel," says a male voice.
Rachel jumps. "Mr. Wilson, what are you doing here?"
He steps out of the shadows. "Call me Slade. We've known each other long enough to forgo the formalities."
Rachel feels uncomfortable about Slade being there. She repeats, "What are you doing here?"
He walks over to her. "I'm here to see you."
Rachel backs away from him. She lies, "My parents will be home soon." She glances around; she's at her old home.
Slade chuckles, "Sweet Rachel, we both know your father is out of town for business. And your dear mother, well, she's so out of it she doesn't even know what's going on around her."
He keeps walking over to her. When Rachel backs up against the house, she feels trapped. She feels like her pounding heart is going to pop out of her chest. "That's a lie! If she knew you were her she'd make you leave."
Slade chuckles, he's amused by Rachel's brave exterior. He puts his hand on her shoulder. Rachel looks down at his hand. When he speaks, she looks up at him. "Having a boyfriend has been good for you. You've bloomed from an awkward little girl to an attractive young woman."
Panic fills her eyes when he lifts her chin up towards his face. "I …"
He puts a finger on her lips. "Shh, don't say anything." He takes a step closer to her. He traces her lips with his finger.
Paralyzed by fear, she just stares up at him.
He says, "You won't tell anyone about this, will you?" She slightly shakes her head no. "Good girl. We should go inside where it's more private."
Rachel says no and tries to push past him. He grabs her by the shoulders and shoves her against the wall. She continues to try to push him away.
Slade says sinisterly, "Now Rachel, where are you're manners? Is this anyway to act toward your superior?"
He leans down to kiss her; but she ducks, avoiding him. She slips away and runs for safety but Slade chases her. He quickly, catches her and pulls her into an alley. He shoves her against the brick wall; trapping her there. She feels the bricks grate against her back. "You're making this harder than it has to be."
Angry, Rachel fights. She pushes him again, with little effect. She growls, "Go to hell."
He grabs her slender wrists tightly with one hand. "I'll take you there."
He goes to kiss her again but she turns her head. He gets her hair instead. He laughs, "I like a challenge."
He lets go of one wrist while holding firm to the other. He takes hold of Rachel's chin. Holding her still, his lips crash down on her. Rachel shakes her head, braking free from the kiss.
Searching for breath, she screams, "Help! Hel…"
Slade clamps his hand over her mouth. He snarls, "Shut up, you little bitch!"
Her eyes beg him to let her go. "Do you want me to let you go?" Rachel nods yes. He laughs menacingly, "Too bad I don't want to."
Slade grabs her head and pulls her to him, his lips crashing down on hers. Her protests are muffled. She tries to push him off her. Her small fists pound against his broad muscular chest. He tightens his grip on her head.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she's terrified. Slade is nothing like she's experienced before. Jason's always been gentle, even when they're passionate. Even Eric, although insistent, wasn't this forceful. She writhes, trying to break free.
"Let her go!"
Rachel gasps, it's her father. He's here to rescue her.
Trigon grabs his daughter's arm. "Get over here!"
Rachel is pulled repeatedly between the two men. She screams for them to stop. They suddenly stop causing Rachel to fall backwards.
They are now in the parking lot by the restaurant. She looks up in horror as he father transforms into a lion. He's a red lion with a reddish black main. He roars as he finishes transforming.
Slade's now turning into lion. He looks much like her father as a lion only he's black and orange.
Their roars are thunderous as they turn to fight one another. Rachel watches in horror as they lash out with claws and teeth. They are so fast; she has trouble keeping them straight. She gasps when one snarls as the other one's claw rips into flesh.
They turn to her, noticing her for the first time. Rachel backs away slowly, thinking of a way out. The two lions have stopped fighting to follow her. Rachel tries every car door, but they're all locked.
Her eyes grow large with terror as the lions morph into one. He's a solid black lion that's larger than the others were. One eye is red the other is orange. Seeing the blood lust in it's eyes Rachel turns to run.
She runs as fast as she can, darting between cars. She refuses to turn around. She can hear the lion chasing her. She hears it crash onto cars as it leaps from one to another.
Rachel sees a building up ahead. There are people in the doorway calling her, urging her to run faster.
She's almost there when a paw catches her leg forcing her to tumble to the ground. She holds up her arm to shield herself. The black lion stands over her. Blood drips from it's mouth.
Trembling in fear, Rachel tries to slowly back away. The lion steps on her arm. She cries out in pain. The weight of the lion is unbearable. It looks at her and licks it's lips.
It opens its mouth to roar. Rachel sees the mouthful of razor sharp teeth, dripping with blood. As it slowly advances towards her, Rachel screams.
Rachel leaps up in bed. It's as if she's just run a marathon; she can barely catch her breath. She's severely trembling as she looks around the room. 'I'm at Slade's place. That was just a dream. Omigod, everything about it felt so real. Why did it feel so real?'Rachel wipes the sweet from her forehead. 'How did I get in this room?'
Lying down again, she buries herself under the down comforter. She tells herself she has to stay awake, to stay alert. Curled on her side, staring at the closed door, Rachel feels the tears sting her eyes. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to keep them from falling. One tear seeps out and slide down her nose. It's soon followed be another. She can't stop the tears they're falling too fast. Curling up into a tighter ball, Rachel gives into her emotions and cries.
Rachel's stomach growls, reminding her she didn't have much to eat yesterday. Because her back hurt, she slowly gets out of bed. She stops to stare at her bare legs draped over the side of the bed. 'I can't go out there like this, in just a t-shirt. I can't stay in here forever, though.' Searching the room, Rachel doesn't find her clothes. She does find an extra blanket. Wrapping it around her shoulders, she exit's the guest room.
In the kitchen, Slade is sitting at the table reading the newspaper. "Well, look who decided to get up."
"Sorry."
"Did you want some coffee?" Slade asks while reading the paper.
"Do you have any tea?"
"Sorry, just coffee."
"Um, do you have anything to eat?"
"Again, no. I usually eat out."
Rachel's stomach growls softly. "Guess I'll have coffee." She's never had coffee before. She thinks smells all right, but has never wanted to drink it.
Slade sets a mug in front of her. Rachel stares into the steaming mug of dark brown liquid. The steam delivers the strong scent of coffee to her nose. She takes a tentative sip, burning the tip of her tongue. Rachel wrinkles her nose at the pungent flavor. After letting it cool down a bit, Rachel takes several sips. She winces slightly; it's still a little too hot. She hates the taste but feels as if she should drink at most of it.
Rachel glances at Slade. He's still reading the paper. She looks around the kitchen. 'How did I get here? I know how but why are things …going out of control?' Staring into the ebony liquid, she finds no answers. The coffee has cooled down significantly. She gulps down as much as she can, which is about half of it. It tastes horrible to her; it's harsh, bitter and caustic. Rachel grimaces, it's nothing like her soothing tea.
A low chuckle sounds from behind the newspaper. "Didn't like my coffee? Was it too strong for you? I like my coffee strong and robust. It never occurred to me you not be able to handle it."
"I've never had coffee before. I usually drink herbal tea."
"I hope I didn't turn you off coffee. It's very satisfying. The caffeine running through your body. It's quite invigorating. Try it again sometime, maybe not so strong. Maybe you'd like it sweet; try it with honey. Some people like it sweet; I prefer mine full-bodied."
She doesn't like the way this conversation is going. It doesn't sound like coffee is the subject anymore. Rachel pulls the blanket tighter around herself.
He looks over at her amused, "I didn't think you were so modest."
"I'm cold."
"Your clothes are ready. I'll get them." Slade gets up, leaving Rachel alone again. Remembering her nightmare, she makes sure the blanket is tightly wrapped around her.
Slade returns with her clothes. She says, "Thanks. I know you're probably busy, I'll hurry up and get out of here." She goes back to the guest room to change.
Changing into her clothes is very painful. Her thoughts turn to last night. 'Dad must really hate me. He doesn't seem to want me. Maybe he never wanted me. Everything I do is wrong so I don't know what to do to make things better. Guess I'll just try to stay away from him for awhile.'
Rachel returns to the kitchen fully dressed. "Um, thanks for a place to crash. I'm sure you're busy; I'll go now."
"Don't you have school?"
She shrugs, "Yeah, I'll just walk."
Slade folds up the paper. "Nonsense, I'll drive you."
"No, that's okay. I don't mind walking."
"Damn, are you always this stubborn?" He grabs his keys. "At least let me drop you off closer to school."
Rachel glares at him. She can tell he's not going to let this drop. 'You call me stubborn?' "Okay, fine, if it'll make you happy."
In the car, they ride in silence most of the time. At stoplight Slade says, "About last night …"
Rachel knew this was coming. "It was nothing. Things just got out of control."
"So your father's never done anything like this before?"
'Has he every whipped me?' "No. Like he said, I needed to be punished and things got out of control."
Slade wonders what she could've done to deserve that but he says nothing about it. "The bandages on your arm, he didn't do that to you?"
'Of course he did that but who's going to believe me?' "No, I did that myself."
Slade pulls over to the side of the road. "Why would you do something like that?"
"I'm just a stupid teenager."
"Rachel …"
She unbuckles her seatbelt. "Look, thanks for helping me last night. And thanks for giving me a place to stay. You did your good deed by helping me. There's nothing you have to be concerned about. Don't you have more important things to worry about than a teenage girl's stupid problems? I don't need you or anyone else butting trying to fix me." She gets out of the car. "You were in the right place at the right time. I don't owe you anything."
Slamming the door, Rachel walks towards school. She's angry. Angry at her father for hurting her. Angry at Slade for trying to hurt her the other night. Angry at her mother for abandoning her. Angry at her friends for not seeing what's right in front of their eyes. Angry with her teachers for seeing it but getting it all wrong. Most of all she angry with herself for letting all of this happen.
Seeing the high school come into view, she stops. 'Great! Just what I need, another day of hell.'
*Thanks Google for the translations.
En Saison = In Season
Parlez-vous français? = Do you speak French?
Un peu, je parle un peu. = A bit, I speak a little bit.
C'est très bon. = That's very good.
En quelle année êtes-vous étudier? = What year are you studying?
Je suis dans ma duexieme année.I'm in my second year.
Très bon. = Very good.
Le français est une si belle langue. = French is such a beautiful language.
N'avez-vous pas d'accord? = Don't you agree?
Oui = Yes.
Souhaitez-vous dire chose en français? = Would you say something in French?
Je vous remercie de m'avoir invite a diner. = Thank you for inviting me to dinner.
Le restaurant est magnifique. = The restaurant is beautiful.
Tout comme vous mon petit oiseau. Just like you, my little bird.
Augh! My mind's being overrun by annoying plot bunnies! I'm trying to focus on S.A.M. but I now have three …no four …no five …I have at least five stories in my mind. They keep multiplying. Omigod, is that another one? I can't keep them straight. I can't even remember all of them running rampant in my noggin. I don't even know if some of them will see the light of day. It's so frustrating! So many thoughts …ideas …GRRR! *shaking fist* Those darn plot bunnies!
Oh-kay, anyway …thank you for reading. This chapter had more action, what'd ya think? Comments and/or suggestions welcomed.