THE ANONYMITY OF BEING
38. The Past
Her loss of touch with reality was frightening. It numbed her ability to make decisions that were fully developed to encompass all possibilities. Bella couldn't see what she was doing- she didn't know if it was right or wrong. But the false certainty that was evoked prompted her to wear the armory of courage.
She could've let the events float by, pretending that none of it happened. But she wasn't going to be sedated into submission, anymore. She couldn't allow him to control her life. She didn't want to see his face behind the veil of cursed dreams. She wanted the abominable ferocity of his cruelty to perish in the flames that she'd ignite, burning away the parts that had left her weakened.
She was a strong woman. And in the safety of broad daylight, she knew she wouldn't be hurt. What more could he do when he'd already burnt her at the stake, callously destroying an innocence that was never permitted to prosper. At the same time, she couldn't see the flaws of her diseased mind, encouraging her to pursue something so dangerous. She was blinded by an anger and a sadness that could topple the highest building from its concrete foundations.
She was wrath, yearning for a last confrontation.
The journey to hell didn't take long. But she'd been blindfolded the entire way, having troubles recalling the movement of her footsteps as she walked up to his front door. She held her cell phone by her side, knowing that with a click on the screen, help would arrive. But would it arrive quickly enough? Yet again, the blistering impulse of her decision made no sense except to Bella, herself.
Her eyes were illuminated with defiance, no longer caving into her chagrin. In that moment, consequences didn't matter. Her future was already buried under her tombstone, located in a land of weeping souls. She needed to do this for herself. It would be her denouement, her final stand. It would be the last chance for hope to uncover a beckoning strength.
"Lauren, you're early-"
Bella heard Marcus' words before he opened the door. His fleeting shock did not go unnoticed. She smirked at him in an uncharacteristic, perfervid way, distancing herself from the meekness she'd shown before. The copious amounts of determination thundered in her brain, blocking out rationality. She felt drunk on adrenaline. She felt controlled. Mind-controlled at the insistence of her subconsciousness. But she had nothing to lose. After all, she had already hit rock bottom.
"Why?" she demanded quietly.
He looked at her blankly, showing off his brilliant acting skills. "Why what?"
"You know what you did," she hissed. She realized that the words she searched for were not coming up. Her throat burned as her mind tried to admit to what had happened, that night. As he hid behind insouciance, she found herself sinking into more and more anger- partially at herself, as well. But before she could say anything else, he cut her off.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Bella," he stated.
"Do you think the police will believe me or you?" she blurted, surprising herself.
She hadn't planned to threaten him. Spontaneity took over the reins, steering her in a direction of justice. She felt guilty, finding it hard to understand why she couldn't tell her mother what had happened yet she was brave enough to threaten the man who had destroyed her. But what they both didn't know was just how scared she was. Scared and confused. Was she ready to crush him under the strength of Lady Justice?
"You wouldn't," he said lowly. She wondered if he'd caught her bluff. She wondered if he could sense her fright. "You wouldn't dare."
She wondered if he felt guilty, at all.
"So you're admitting that something did happen?" she asked shakily. Her balled fists created nail marks on her palms.
"You were drunk that night and so was I," he sighed, looking at Bella with an expression that oozed pity. "I don't remember leaving-"
"I never said anything about leaving," she interjected. "Unless you remember something about leaving your own party. Was it to escort me to the bus stop?"
She saw his eyes flash with recognition before they were filled with animosity. She stepped back. He growled, "I have a future. I don't need your shit to ruin my parents' pride in me. I'm already dealing with-"
"What about my future, you son of a bitch?" she asked through gritted teeth. A cathartic cry erupted from her chest. She felt a force being unleashed. An unstoppable force of resentment. "You took it all away when you decided to break me apart. You don't have that sort of power over me. You can't and you never will."
"You truly are a little Miss. Perfect who has no idea what she's on about." She could see the struggle on Marcus' face as he attempted to regain control.
"Nowhere left to hide? No more excuses to use?" she said. He flinched at the state of madness that had spread across Bella's face- tears flowing down her cheeks. He'd pushed her to the cracks of her breaking point. "You don't deserve a future. Your parents would be ashamed. You think you deserve to make them proud? You don't. You deserve to rot in hell."
She'd been engulfed in an inexplicable anger, persuaded to finish what she'd never imagined to confront. Bella didn't know if he was capable of understanding her pain. She didn't even know if he knew what guilt meant. She wondered if he registered the trauma he'd caused or if he truly was a heartless monster with no regrets. Shaking away her doubts, she resumed her predacious stance. She wanted to live to see the last act... before the stage curtains fell in dark red velvet.
"I'm sorry-" he whispered. For a moment, she hated herself for believing his apology. It was too sudden; it didn't feel right.
He doesn't mean it. He doesn't. He doesn't.
"You're only saying that because you want me to believe you. But all you care about is yourself," Bella snarled.
Marcus closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Look, I've never done anything like that before. I need to go to college, I need-"
"You don't need anything. Just a slow, painful death," she bit back.
Although, the argument had started off with Bella on the defense, it had ultimately concluded with her on the offense. But as she stumbled away, running out of hell's cave, she didn't know if she believed in her own words. They'd been dipped in poisonous bravery. Blinded by her miasma of confusion, she wondered if she could finally accept herself.
.
.
.
A/N: I've heard/read several stories on victims confronting their attackers. Obviously, it's a dangerous thing to do but I think when someone's pushed to the line, they can keep on sinking or suddenly retaliate. And of course, we all know everyone reacts so differently.