I was heading towards the door when I heard someone call me, "Yo, you, Maria girl," I heard. I knew it was Michael. Though everything told me not to turn around I spun to face him. He was closer to me than I realized and I stumbled backward.
I tried desperately to think of something snappy, something that would keep him far away from me forever, but even if I had been able to think, I wouldn't have been able to say anything. Why did he make me feel like a damn schoolgirl? Maybe it was this "going back to childhood thing" or whatever. I never really had had a great life, maybe now I was making up for lost time.
"Um…what?" I finally managed. He just looked at me and then proceeded.
"Can you give me a ride home?" Somehow this request let me regain the composure I thought was gone.
"Give you, a ride home? Mister I don't know if you realize this, but you scare the pants off me." I saw his eyes run the length of my body and heat spread through my blood. I must have turned the color of a tomato because he laughed a little.
"Come on, or I'll use my superpowers," Michael said, his voice low and almost threatening. As much as I despised him, and as much as I was attracted to him, I feared him more.
I led him to my car, watching over my shoulder with each step. I thought I saw him smile, but my muscles were so tense I thought I might have been hallucinating. I swear I was shaking, he probably was laughing at me, the nervous little girl, afraid to get hurt.
I knew it wasn't safe for me to drive, I could never drive right when I was nervous. But I didn't want to tell him that. I had to save face, it was the only way I could look at myself each day in the mirror, to remain in control, and move through life.
I turned on the radio but all the songs annoyed me. Finally Michael reached out and stopped my hand that was fidgeting with the radio dial.
"Just stop. I'm not going to hurt you. I just needed a ride home," he said with an innocent smile.
"Then why didn't you just get Isabel or Max to get you there? I told you to stay away from me." He just looked out the window like he hadn't heard. How could someone be so incredibly frustrating? He leaned over again and immediately my body stiffened, not sure of his motives. But he had just gone to hit the play button on the CD player.
She whispered softly
To tell her story
About how she had been wronged
It was my favorite track, I wonder why? Not too hard to figure out if you knew my past.
As she lay lifeless
He stole her innocence
And this is how she carried on
I started to sing softly with the song and I saw Michael glance at me from the corner of his eye. I made my voice light and breathy. I saw him straighten. So I was still attractive. But now I just felt dirty. I stopped suddenly and his head snapped toward me. I turned away and looked out the windshield. Why did I feel so disgusting? I was only flirting, I've seen worse in my day.
Remember you're not alone
I pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building and turned off the car. Taking a deep breath I slowly turned to face the boy sitting next to me. He was staring at me, but his face moved away when I looked at him. I opened the door and hopped out. I stalked away listening for him to do something, move somewhere.
I just wanted to get away, far way from aliens, from Michael. He was dangerous, all men were. It was just a fact of life. And his superpowers didn't make anything better. But there was something about him, something painful. I could feel it in my bones, like the cold in the winter, it just settled there, made you shiver uncontrollably.
I heard him get out of the car. He hesitated for a moment, slammed the door and started jogging towards me. I picked up my pace but he was fast, even in a jog. His hand grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him.
What was this guy's problem? Did he like torturing me? Maybe it's some sort of alien pleasure. Or was he just a bastard?
"What happened in New York?" he demanded.
"Fuck off," I spat in his face and tried to pull away. Again he was stronger than me. It was an unfair battle. I had no choice but to put up with his shit.
He looked a little taken back but he covered it quickly. I guess he didn't expect such words from me. "What happened in New York?" he repeated.
"And when did you become my friend?" I mocked. I glared at him. He had that same frightened look in his eyes, like he had seen a ghost. I saw Michael's hand moved towards my face. He brushed his knuckles against my cheek. I turned away, uncomfortable under his gaze, aroused and scared by his touch.
"What did he do to you?" he asked, his voice softer. The tone was endearing, a slight quiver in his voice with each word. I dropped my eyes to the ground. I couldn't tell him, what would he know? Why would he care anyway? He barely knew me, let alone liked me. But I have a feeling he knew more than I did about loneliness, about abuse, and unhappiness.
"Who?" I asked playing dumb. But I knew damn well who he meant. I just didn't know how he'd figured it out. Maybe I just seemed distant and he had some sort of intuition for that. 'Stop making excuses,' I told myself. My whole life was excuses…and lies.
"You know," he said.
"Look, I don't know what you're talking about and if you wouldn't mind letting me go, I have stuff to do." I yanked my arm away and he let me. I walked away from him slowly. I wanted to look back, I wanted to see him looking at me with those sad eyes, I wanted to run into his arms and cry and tell him everything. I wanted him to brush my hair back and kiss away my tears, I wanted him to hold me and never let me go. But I didn't turn around.
When I reached my door I finally looked behind me. He wasn't there. I guess I didn't really expect him to be. I unlocked the door and opened it. I was home. It was welcoming, warm and comforting. I walked to my room and sunk onto my bed and for the first time in months I fell asleep.
//Bodies entangled on a bed/the smell of lust fills my nostrils/I look up at Michael, pleading him with innocent eyes/He came down, hard/He breaks me, takes me for his own/His hand stifles my screams/His face melts away revealing the disgusting creature he is…//
And I woke up, sweat drenching my body. Not again, I thought. I didn't need these dreams. I didn't need Michael, or my father. Maybe it was true…maybe all he told me was true. Maybe I was the slut he said I was every time he took me to bed, maybe I really was a whore, a dirty retched woman ready to be used and thrown out like the trash. Maybe I should have stayed in New York…he told me that was where I belonged, out on the corner of some street selling my "sexy self" to keep him alive. But when had I ever listened to him? When had I ever followed what he told me? Always, hadn't I?
I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. After splashing water over my face I felt a little better. I stumbled back towards my bed but knew I wouldn't sleep so I headed for the living room. Maybe some TV would calm my nerves. But after flipping through all the channels and finding nothing enjoyable I clicked off the television and picked up the Homemakers Catalog on the coffee table. My mind kept flashing back to the dream, and how I felt.
Maybe I couldn't live without it…maybe I couldn't live without him. Bile rose in my throat at the thought. But it was true. I would be living with him the rest of my life, with pieces of him at least. His memory would always be burned in my brain, and his brand on my skin. I would never break free of his crimes, of his stupidity. I would forever be under his evil dirty spell.
I tried desperately to think of something snappy, something that would keep him far away from me forever, but even if I had been able to think, I wouldn't have been able to say anything. Why did he make me feel like a damn schoolgirl? Maybe it was this "going back to childhood thing" or whatever. I never really had had a great life, maybe now I was making up for lost time.
"Um…what?" I finally managed. He just looked at me and then proceeded.
"Can you give me a ride home?" Somehow this request let me regain the composure I thought was gone.
"Give you, a ride home? Mister I don't know if you realize this, but you scare the pants off me." I saw his eyes run the length of my body and heat spread through my blood. I must have turned the color of a tomato because he laughed a little.
"Come on, or I'll use my superpowers," Michael said, his voice low and almost threatening. As much as I despised him, and as much as I was attracted to him, I feared him more.
I led him to my car, watching over my shoulder with each step. I thought I saw him smile, but my muscles were so tense I thought I might have been hallucinating. I swear I was shaking, he probably was laughing at me, the nervous little girl, afraid to get hurt.
I knew it wasn't safe for me to drive, I could never drive right when I was nervous. But I didn't want to tell him that. I had to save face, it was the only way I could look at myself each day in the mirror, to remain in control, and move through life.
I turned on the radio but all the songs annoyed me. Finally Michael reached out and stopped my hand that was fidgeting with the radio dial.
"Just stop. I'm not going to hurt you. I just needed a ride home," he said with an innocent smile.
"Then why didn't you just get Isabel or Max to get you there? I told you to stay away from me." He just looked out the window like he hadn't heard. How could someone be so incredibly frustrating? He leaned over again and immediately my body stiffened, not sure of his motives. But he had just gone to hit the play button on the CD player.
She whispered softly
To tell her story
About how she had been wronged
It was my favorite track, I wonder why? Not too hard to figure out if you knew my past.
As she lay lifeless
He stole her innocence
And this is how she carried on
I started to sing softly with the song and I saw Michael glance at me from the corner of his eye. I made my voice light and breathy. I saw him straighten. So I was still attractive. But now I just felt dirty. I stopped suddenly and his head snapped toward me. I turned away and looked out the windshield. Why did I feel so disgusting? I was only flirting, I've seen worse in my day.
Remember you're not alone
I pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building and turned off the car. Taking a deep breath I slowly turned to face the boy sitting next to me. He was staring at me, but his face moved away when I looked at him. I opened the door and hopped out. I stalked away listening for him to do something, move somewhere.
I just wanted to get away, far way from aliens, from Michael. He was dangerous, all men were. It was just a fact of life. And his superpowers didn't make anything better. But there was something about him, something painful. I could feel it in my bones, like the cold in the winter, it just settled there, made you shiver uncontrollably.
I heard him get out of the car. He hesitated for a moment, slammed the door and started jogging towards me. I picked up my pace but he was fast, even in a jog. His hand grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him.
What was this guy's problem? Did he like torturing me? Maybe it's some sort of alien pleasure. Or was he just a bastard?
"What happened in New York?" he demanded.
"Fuck off," I spat in his face and tried to pull away. Again he was stronger than me. It was an unfair battle. I had no choice but to put up with his shit.
He looked a little taken back but he covered it quickly. I guess he didn't expect such words from me. "What happened in New York?" he repeated.
"And when did you become my friend?" I mocked. I glared at him. He had that same frightened look in his eyes, like he had seen a ghost. I saw Michael's hand moved towards my face. He brushed his knuckles against my cheek. I turned away, uncomfortable under his gaze, aroused and scared by his touch.
"What did he do to you?" he asked, his voice softer. The tone was endearing, a slight quiver in his voice with each word. I dropped my eyes to the ground. I couldn't tell him, what would he know? Why would he care anyway? He barely knew me, let alone liked me. But I have a feeling he knew more than I did about loneliness, about abuse, and unhappiness.
"Who?" I asked playing dumb. But I knew damn well who he meant. I just didn't know how he'd figured it out. Maybe I just seemed distant and he had some sort of intuition for that. 'Stop making excuses,' I told myself. My whole life was excuses…and lies.
"You know," he said.
"Look, I don't know what you're talking about and if you wouldn't mind letting me go, I have stuff to do." I yanked my arm away and he let me. I walked away from him slowly. I wanted to look back, I wanted to see him looking at me with those sad eyes, I wanted to run into his arms and cry and tell him everything. I wanted him to brush my hair back and kiss away my tears, I wanted him to hold me and never let me go. But I didn't turn around.
When I reached my door I finally looked behind me. He wasn't there. I guess I didn't really expect him to be. I unlocked the door and opened it. I was home. It was welcoming, warm and comforting. I walked to my room and sunk onto my bed and for the first time in months I fell asleep.
//Bodies entangled on a bed/the smell of lust fills my nostrils/I look up at Michael, pleading him with innocent eyes/He came down, hard/He breaks me, takes me for his own/His hand stifles my screams/His face melts away revealing the disgusting creature he is…//
And I woke up, sweat drenching my body. Not again, I thought. I didn't need these dreams. I didn't need Michael, or my father. Maybe it was true…maybe all he told me was true. Maybe I was the slut he said I was every time he took me to bed, maybe I really was a whore, a dirty retched woman ready to be used and thrown out like the trash. Maybe I should have stayed in New York…he told me that was where I belonged, out on the corner of some street selling my "sexy self" to keep him alive. But when had I ever listened to him? When had I ever followed what he told me? Always, hadn't I?
I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. After splashing water over my face I felt a little better. I stumbled back towards my bed but knew I wouldn't sleep so I headed for the living room. Maybe some TV would calm my nerves. But after flipping through all the channels and finding nothing enjoyable I clicked off the television and picked up the Homemakers Catalog on the coffee table. My mind kept flashing back to the dream, and how I felt.
Maybe I couldn't live without it…maybe I couldn't live without him. Bile rose in my throat at the thought. But it was true. I would be living with him the rest of my life, with pieces of him at least. His memory would always be burned in my brain, and his brand on my skin. I would never break free of his crimes, of his stupidity. I would forever be under his evil dirty spell.