I own the rights to none of the characters in this story, even the characters that I created. If Disney wants to film this story and show it every year at Christmas, they have my permission.
Chapter rated R for language, violence, nudity, and sexual situations
Knight in Shining Armor
Chapter 8
They say that life is just this: it's living, and you have to go on living. At least, that's what the writers of Buffy would have us believe.
It was the middle of Saturday morning when Lizzie opened the front door, to find Miranda and I on the doorstep. She looked as if she had only had a few hours sleep. We probably looked the same.
"Hey, guys," she said in a tired voice.
"Hi," I returned. "Can we come in?"
"It's not a good time, guys," she told us. "I'm trying to get some sleep."
"Lizzie," Miranda pleaded. "We have to talk. It can't wait."
Lizzie pursed her lips, then stepped back and opened the door wide for us. We followed her into the kitchen. "Excuse the mess," she apologized, gradually slipping into her sunshiny persona, opening the refrigerator and pulling out the grapefruit juice. "You know me...putting things off 'til the last minute. As long as I can get the place cleaned up before my folks get home tomorrow afternoon, I won't be grounded too badly." There was only one pizza box on the kitchen table, but there was more than one beer can in the trash. I don't know if she noticed that, but we knew Lizzie didn't drink beer. She had tried it once last year, and said it tasted like warm cow pee.
"What about volleyball tryouts?" Miranda asked.
"I...changed my mind," Lizzie responded, rubbing her forehead.
Miranda looked to me. We had spent most of the night before, planning how to handle this. "Lizzie," I said gently, "I need to be honest with you." She watched me, her face expressionless. "I came by, last night. To apologize."
For a long moment, she didn't say anything. Then she must have recognized the hurt and anguish in my eyes, because her face slowly transformed. Her eyebrows dropped, her chin trembled, her shoulders sagged, and then she burst into tears. "Did you enjoy the show?" she sobbed.
What she said didn't hurt me. I don't think she meant it to hurt me. I think it was just a release of emotions that she had kept pent up for so many weeks, perhaps shame, perhaps misplaced guilt. I wasn't naive enough to think it was relief. It had to be her worst nightmare to realize that Miranda and I knew what she had been doing, what she had been somehow forced to do.
Miranda rushed to Lizzie and wrapped her arms around her, as she covered her face with her hands. I wanted that to be me. I wanted to be the one that wrapped my arms around her, protected her from the storm. But we both sensed that Lizzie might not welcome intimate physical contact from a male at that moment.
Miranda led Lizzie to the back stairway leading to the second floor. Lizzie sat down on the second step, Miranda on the one below. Lizzie looked at me through the railing, the slats casting a shadow of bars across her face. "You think I'm a whore?" she asked me.
"No, milady," I answered. "I think you a princess, and I, a simple knight, in your service."
She favored me with a sad smile. "There are no knights, good sir. Only dragons."
A long pause filled the room between us. "Can you tell us what happened?" I asked, slipping into a chair at the dining room table. "Help us understand?"
She leaned her head back, until it touched the wall behind her, then rolled her head from side to side, watching the ceiling. "Maybe you should think I'm a whore. It would be better than the truth."
And she told us her story. It didn't sound like Lizzie. Most of it was in a dead monotone. She rarely looked at either of us, I across the room, Miranda sitting with her. She just stared out into space, perhaps because she was afraid to see our reactions. Sometimes, she slurred her words in the really bad parts, like she had to struggle to open her mouth to get the words out, but I think she told it all, needed to tell it all.
"It was Memorial Day. Kevin Cartman had asked me out...we were going to The Hillside Landing, to watch the fireworks. I had to babysit that evening--the Moody's had a company party--and they wouldn't be getting in until about eight. The fireworks started at nine, so I had told Kevin that I would change at the Moody's, and drive to his house, and we could leave from there. I was so nervous on the way to the Landing. I had pined over Kevin for four months--you guys know that--but he couldn't have. But he had asked me out, like he had picked up waves from me, or something. As we were driving up The Hill, I watched him, hoping I wasn't staring. It was magic. I was wearing a light green sundress, cause I thought it went well with my eyes; he was in black jeans and a khaki shirt.
"He parked on the curve. You know the one, on the top of the ridge. We got a blanket out of the trunk, and carefully made our way a little stretch down the slope. You know, it's kind of steep, and at one point--he was below me and leading the way, holding my hand--one of my feet slipped out from under me, and I went stumbling into him, almost knocking him over. I felt like an idiot. I thought, he either thinks I'm a total klutz, or he thinks I did it intentionally, and I didn't know which was worse. But we were face to face, our bodies pressed against each other, and I looked up at him, and I drowned in his eyes. Miranda, he was sooo cute.
"We spread out the blanket and sat there, watching the fireworks. It reminded me of when the three of us were kids. The colors were so...majestic. Everything seemed larger than life. He kissed me. Just once, though. After the show was over, he asked if I wanted to go to this dance club, The Saturn. I reminded him we were both underage, and he said it was no problem, that they stamp your hand at the door. No stamp, no beer. Well, there was no stamp, but plenty of beer. He had two, and the waitress offered me one, but I took a Sprite. We danced some, and talked a lot. He told me which classes to avoid this year, and he tried to convince me to get certified for a lifeguard position at the beach.
"Anyway, after our fourth dance set...I think it was the fourth.... Doesn't matter. We had finished a dance, and I suddenly realized how worn out I was. I felt like I do sometimes in the middle of my period. Tired and sleepy. I thought it was the stress from watching the twins that afternoon. I kind of stumbled back to my table, and plopped down in the chair. I apologized to him, explained that I usually had more energy than that. I didn't know if I was coming down with something, but I asked him to take me back to his place, so I could get home. It was about eleven, and I thought there was still time to call you, Miranda, and squeal about my magical date.
"He had to help me to the car. I leaned against him in the parking lot, then leaned against the side of his Subaru as he unlocked my door, and helped me in. The perfect gentleman. On the way to his house, I fell asleep. I had a dream. I dreamed Kevin and I were on the side of the Hill, on the blanket, watching Titanic on a giant-screen TV. Only, all the performers were wearing cowboy and indian costumes, and they talked with Italian accents. And then it was me on the screen I was watching. I kept asking Leonardo DiCaprio, 'Can you get it up? Can you get it up?' We were in the Arctic water, and the waves were splashing against my face.
"I awakened, still too drowsy to concentrate, with the feel of the waves, and the sound of 'Can you get it up?', which gradually folded into 'Come on! Get up!' and tiny, almost playful slaps against my face. I could only open my eyes halfway, but I knew I wasn't in Kevin's car anymore. I was looking up, way up. Towering over me was Kevin. In his arms, nuzzling his neck, was Kate. My throat was dry, like a sock had been stuffed in it, and I was reclining on a couch in a darkened den. No, reclining isn't the right word. My body was draped across the couch at an angle, my legs off the front, my feet grazing the floor. My butt, the center of gravity, was just off the edge, and in another few moments, I would have tumbled to the floor. The skirt of my sundress had ridden up around my waist. It took all my strength to brush the dress back down over my legs.
"'Kate?' I said, my voice raspy. 'Why are you in my dream...? I mean, date?' They shared a laugh at my confusion, and their laughs ran together. I had never felt like that. I couldn't concentrate. I could barely lift my head off the couch. I wasn't sick. I just felt...disconnected."
"You were drugged," I observed, but Lizzie didn't look at me, didn't respond at all.
"Kate told me that Kevin had decided that she was a more fun date, but she would give me the opportunity to prove that I could be a fun date, too. 'What do you say, Lizzie? Give him a blowjob, and he's all yours.'
"I managed to shake my head and moan, 'No.'
"Kevin leaned over me and roughly pulled me to my feet. He grabbed my purse from the coffee table and pushed it in my arms. Then he ushered me to the front door and shoved me through, sneering 'Then go home to mommy, you little cocktease.' He shoved me so violently, I went sprawling on the front porch. I looked back over my shoulder at them, and saw them smiling down at me from the doorstep.
"I didn't understand, not any of it. Why Kevin had changed, what Kate was doing there, what was happening to me. But then, I was also having trouble recognizing my mom's SUV. I don't remember crying as I unlocked the door and climbed in, but I must have been. I yawned twice as I backed out of the driveway. I was soooo sleepy. I didn't have very good depth perception. I think there was a stop sign that I stopped about twenty feet before I got to it, then barely remembered to stop again, when I reached the sign. It wasn't until then that I realized I had been drugged, and I also realized how fortunate I was. Kevin could have done anything he wanted to me, while I was out. I felt...used, and dirty, and stupid, for letting it happen.
"Kevin's family lived in an area of town where they restore old houses. It's about three blocks from downtown, and I had to drive through downtown to get home. No big deal, I thought. The streets were deserted, the traffic lights just blinking. I checked the clock on the radio. 1:13 a.m. The only thought that occurred to me was that Miranda would be asleep by now, and she'd have to wait until tomorrow to hear about my almost first blowjob. I giggled, and then laughed out loud. And the next thing I knew, the SUV had hit a scarecrow in the middle of the street, sending it flying to the sidewalk. And these little neurons were firing off in my brain, saying, 'That wasn't a scarecrow. That was a little boy.' I tried to use the brake, but I guess I was sitting wrong, because I hit the accelerator and surged ahead for a few moments, before my foot could find the brake, and the car screeched to a halt.
"I stumbled out of the car and looked back toward the intersection. The only illumination was from the blinking red and amber traffic lights. I didn't see anything. I cried in relief. Whatever was causing my disorientation had also caused me to hallucinate hitting someone. 'Thank you,' I managed to utter a tiny prayer, and sighed. And then I saw it. The Padres baseball cap, in the gutter in front of the sidewalk. And five feet further down, in the street, a sneaker. As I got closer, I could see a crumpled body in front of the sidewalk. I hadn't been able to see it sooner, because of the shadow of the storefront on the corner. I ran to the body...as well as I could.
"It was a boy, maybe eleven. I knelt in the street and checked his pulse. I could feel it. I checked his heartbeat, and it seemed strong. His arm looked...pretty bad, probably broken in at least one place, and there was blood on his temple.
"I looked for a phone, and could see a booth about two blocks down to the side. I started to walk toward it, then thought better, that the car was closer. But before I could get to the car, the enormity of what had just happened hit me. I had just hit someone, a child. Why was an eleven-year-old out on the streets at one in the morning, and how did he just appear out of nowhere in front of me? And then I realized through the fog that the answer to the first question didn't matter, and the answer to the second question was that he didn't just appear out of nowhere. He had been there all the time, crossing the street with the blinking red light, just like he was supposed to. And here I came, running red lights, running stop signs, drunk or high on something, and hit him. And here he is now, with a head injury. 'He might die, Lizzie,' I thought, and in these circumstances, I think they call that murder two.
"I got back in my car, and I drove to that phone booth. And then I drove past it. It was too close, you see? I drove three more blocks, to the next phone booth, and there I got out, called 911, told them that a boy had been injured in a wreck, gave them the location, hung up, got back in the car. And left.
"One thing this panic had done for me: I was now wide awake. I got home about one-thirty. I checked the front panel of the SUV, and I couldn't find any damage. I knew the police could find stuff, but for the moment, I was only concerned about my parents. I sneaked into the house, and crept up to my room. The door to Matt's room was open when I passed by it, and his voice called to me quietly. 'Where have you been?' he asked from his bed.
"I stepped just inside his room and whispered, 'On a date. I lost track of time. Please don't tell Mom and Dad, okay?'
"He shrugged. 'Sure.' Then he peered at me closely. 'Lizzie? Are you okay?'
"Oh, how I wanted to have someone to confide in. But, he was twelve, perhaps the same age as the boy I had hit. Maybe they were in the same classes together. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and left his room, and made my way to mine. I dropped my sandals to the floor, and fell under the covers, fully clothed.
"I didn't wake up that day until about three. My parents were at work, of course, and Matt was God knows where. There were three messages on the answering machine from you, Miranda, wanting to know 'all the juicy details' from the night before. I called you, and I think I made up something about how good a time I had, but that I didn't think we'd be seeing each other again."
"You said he was a little mature," Miranda remembered her portion of the conversation. "Which is usually Lizziespeak for 'he tried to go too far.'"
"That sounds right. Anyway, my mom got home while we were on the phone, and naturally, she thought we had been talking all day. She made me get off." Lizzie paused for a moment, wrinkled her brow. "Hnnh. What they've done to me.... Now, everything sounds...dirty.
"I was up in my room, waiting for dinner and reading the paper, looking for anything that might mention an injured boy from the night before. I couldn't find anything, and I took that as a good sign. Maybe he's okay, I thought. Maybe it's not a newsworthy story, because his parents came and got him, and he went home. Then I realized, it's a morning paper, so of course, there was nothing there.
"So I called the hospital. I asked them if anyone had been admitted from a car accident downtown, the night before. They asked me who I was, and I realized I was revealing information that only the driver of that car would have known, so I hung up. Just then, my mom called up to me from the bottom of the stairs. 'Lizzie! You have company!'
"When I went downstairs, I saw Kate and Kevin in the den, waiting for me. Kate was holding a shopping bag. I couldn't help but spit out, 'What are you doing here?'
"'Lizzie!' my mother cried out. 'These are your guests. Show them some consideration.'
"Kate was smiling sweetly; Kevin was smiling disarmingly. 'Moooommm,' I begged her plaintively.
"'Lizzieeeee,' she warned me.
"I turned to them, sighed, and said, 'Hi,' then pursed my lips, letting them know that was as far as I was willing to go. I still had some of my mettle, back then.
"'Lizzie,' Kate said. 'I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry if there was some kind of misunderstanding yesterday.' She held up the bag for me to see. 'And I brought you a gift. And...I hope we can be friends again.'
"My mom gave Kate one of those, 'Awwww, isn't that sweet?' looks, and then left for the kitchen, to finish dinner. I wasn't convinced, of course. That was just a show, for my mother's benefit.
"'What do you want, Kate?' I asked.
"'Let's go upstairs and open your gift. It's personalized and everything, just for you!'
"I figured it was easier to take them upstairs, deal with it, and get rid of them than it would be to confront my mom again, so I led them to my room. When they entered, Kevin closed the door behind him. I crossed my arms over my chest. 'Not supposed to close the door with boys in here,' I told them.
"'You do it with Gordo, don't you?' she challenged me.
"'Gordo's different,' I responded."
Thanks, I thought sardonically, when I heard Lizzie say that. Appreciate the hell outta that.
"'Well, this gift is kinda...private,' Kate said, lowering her voice.
"I reached my hand out for it. She pulled a small package out of the bag, gift-wrapped in silver paper, and gave it to me. Taped to the top was a small card that said, 'Happy Birthday.'
"'It's not my birthday,' I informed them.
"'It is now,' Kate returned, with a gleam in her eye. 'It's the beginning of a new life.' I didn't argue with her. I didn't want to spend the effort or time. I just wanted to get them out. I unwrapped the package, and found an unlabelled video tape."
A knot formed in my stomach at that point in Lizzie's story. Things were becoming a little clearer now.
"'Come on!' Kate said. 'Let's watch it!' Looking back on it, I probably sound pretty naive, but I really had no idea what was on the tape, at the time. I popped it into my VCR and it automatically started playing. The picture was grainy, and real green, but you could see everything clearly. Looked like it was taken from about three blocks away, but the camera zoomed in on me, as I stumbled drunkenly across Kevin's yard and climbed into my car. The car knocked over a trash can as it backed out of the driveway, then was weaving back and forth, all over the road, stopping, then starting again. My car went past the camera. It had to be no more than fifteen feet away, and panned to follow me. About two blocks on the other side, you could see me running a red light, and striking a boy in the street. I got out of the car, unsteadily made my way to the boy, knelt over him, returned to the car, drove one more block, and turned, and disappeared from view.
"I know my face was ashen when I turned to look at Kate's gleeful smile and Kevin's lecherous grin. 'How?' I asked. 'How did you know?'
"'That's the best part!' she said, clapping her hands. 'I had no idea. How could I? You got doped up on rohypnol, and I just wanted a tape of you driving. Claire's the director. How do you think she did? Don't you think she captured the drama of the moment? Anyway,' she shrugged. 'I only wanted something that would get you grounded for the summer. This...well, this just opens up a whole new world of possibilities.'
"Kevin was opening the drawers in my bureau and going through my stuff. When he found my bras, he pulled out one and fell back on my bed. He held the bra up to his face and breathed deeply. 'What do you want, Kate?' I asked her.
"She had been waiting for that. She bounced on the toes of her shoes, before saying, 'You. You're going to be my slave.'
"I turned that over in my mind. I knew how Kate worked. I would have to bring her order to her when we were at the Digital Bean, maybe do her chores, and if she was in a really bitchy mood, I might have to clean her room. And after two or three weeks, she'd get tired of it, and move on to someone else. I sighed. 'Okay.'
"'Excellent!' she said, clapping again. 'Okay. Now, take off your T-shirt.'
"My jaw dropped. 'What? No way!' Behind me, on the bed, Kevin laughed.
"Kate smirked. 'Let's go over your options. Option one is to open the door and invite your mom up to view the tape. Option two is to take your top off, but the door stays closed. So, do you want the door open, or closed?'
"'Closed,' I answered, and pulled the T-shirt over my head in resignation. I clasped the shirt in front of me, trying to cover the front of my bra.
"'Good,' Kate cheered. She pointed at me and wiggled the finger. 'Now the bra.'
"'No, Kate,' I protested. 'Not with him here,' I nodded to Kevin over my shoulder. 'I won't.'
"Her voice was actually pleasant, as she said, 'Lizzie, you'll do whatever I want, and you'll do it in front of whoever I say.'
"'No, I won't,' I stood up to her. 'Go ahead, tell my mom. I'll face up to it. It can't be anything worse than this.'
"She approached me and stood close enough for me to feel the breath of her voice. 'Lizzie, let me explain something to you. This isn't the worst. It's going to get a lot worse than this, and you'll do it. You'll do it all. If I tell you to do a strip tease at the Homecoming pep rally this fall, you'll do it. If I tell you to give blowjobs to the offensive line, you'll do it. If I decide that you need a tattoo on your butt that says Horny Slut, you'll do it. And the reason you'll do all that, and more, is that we've moved way beyond having your telephone privileges taken away. You need to be thinking juvenile detention, if you're lucky. If you're not, you need to be thinking about being tried as an adult. You might not serve time, but you'll have a criminal conviction following you for the rest of your life. No sorority, no scholarship, no college degree. And then there's your family. You know, even if the poor child survives, they'll sue. And they won't sue you. They'll follow the money. They'll sue your parents. Your parents will lose their home. Matt'll probably be placed in foster care, handed off from guardian to guardian, month to month. But, if your pride is that important to you...well, I can understand pride. Or, you could just take your bra off, and show Kevin your tits.'"
"Lizzie," I cautioned her. "You don't have to talk about this."
She looked directly at me, for the first time since she began. "No. I do have to. You need to know. I've kept this inside for so long. I committed an...unforgivable sin that night. And this--all of this--is my punishment."
Miranda reached up to stroke her hair. "It wasn't you, Lizzie. It was the drugs."
Lizzie pounded her knees with her fists. "No! You don't understand. It wasn't the wreck. I know that was the Rohypnol. I left! I ran! I could have helped! I could have--"
"No, you couldn't," Miranda assured her. "You did everything you could. You called for help."
Lizzie snorted. "That doesn't count. What, in the great cosmic karma abacus, I'm supposed to get credit, because I reported it?" Her tears had returned. "I should have stayed! He could have died that night, and the last thing he would have seen would've been the gutter. I could have helped. I could've comforted him. And because he survived, that makes me okay? No, Miranda, I fucked up. I had the chance to do the right thing, and I ran away. And that wasn't the drug, Miranda. That was me."
"No," I countered. "That was the drug."
She looked at me as if she had only now realized I was in the room. "What?"
"Rohypnol. It impairs judgement."
For the first time that day, it looked like some sunshine was peeking through the clouds in her eyes. "Really?"
"From the moment you woke up the next day, free from the drug, you never doubted that the right thing was to stay, not because you'd get in trouble for leaving, but because that boy needed you, because it was the right thing to do. The drug played more tricks on you than depth perception. It clouded your judgement. It wasn't 'you' that ran away, Lizzie. It was the drug."
Lizzie looked to Miranda for confirmation, and when Miranda nodded, she broke down in fresh tears. "Thank you!" she cried, but she was smiling through the tears. "It's been killing me...."
She kept clearing her throat, and I asked her if she wanted more juice, but she shook her head, then continued.
"So, I, uh, *ahem*, unclasped the back of my bra and sort of peeled the straps over my shoulders, but still holding it up to me. She told me to give the bra and T-shirt to Kevin, and keep my hands at my side. I kind of tossed them to him, because I didn't want to risk touching him, but it took me several moments to lower my arms. My hair was a little longer then, so that helped cover me some, but not enough. I was kind of in profile, so Kevin could see me from the side.
"'There, see?' Kate said. 'That was easy.' Easy for her, maybe, I thought. She got to keep her clothes on. She took the shirt and bra and stuffed them in the shopping bag she had brought with her. 'Lizzie, your life is going to change. Things are going to be...difficult for you, but they'll be fun for me, so it all works out. Right now, there are four people in the world who know about this tape--me, you, Kevin, and Claire--and that's the way I want to keep it. So while we might bring...other people into our...game, the tape will stay a secret, as long as you want.' She looked to Kevin. 'Come on, Tarzan. We're through here.'
"'How long?' I asked.
"'How long, what?' she returned.
"'How long does this go on?'
"'This is not a negotiation, dull-witted one,' she thumped me on the forehead. 'It goes on...as long as the statute of limitations, I guess.' She gave me a threatening look. 'I'm going to have a lot of fun with you.'
"She turned towards the door, but I called her back. 'Kate. Take the tape, please.'
"'Nah,' she shrugged. 'It's yours; you keep it. In fact, keep it on the stand at the head of your bed. I want to see it up there, whenever I'm here.'
"She opened the door, and I barely had time to snatch a blanket off the foot of my bed to cover myself. It amazed me that she could have been so careless. I mean, Matt, or my mom, could have been in the hall. 'Come over to my house, after lunch tomorrow, Lizzie,' she called from the hall, loud enough for my mom to hear from downstairs. 'We'll take a dip in the pool!'
"I didn't get much sleep that night, just thinking about what I had gotten myself into now, and what I could do to fix it, and I couldn't come up with anything. It was just...darkness. The next morning, I quit my part-time morning job at the day-care center and was accepted as a volunteer worker at St. Matthew's, where eleven-year-old Cody Danvers had been admitted early Tuesday morning, after a hit-and-run auto accident. The NA thought I was a little old to be a candy striper, but they never turned down volunteer help. I just wanted to be there, to know if he was okay. He was...um, he was in a coma."
"I remember reading about that," Miranda gasped. "He...recovered, didn't he?"
"Yeah," Lizzie confirmed. "He came out of it after...eight days, I think. Yeah, cause I had been there a week. So, anyway, that first day, I went home for lunch, then to Kate's. I had to take the bus. The public transport doesn't go through Kate's neighborhood, so I had to walk about five blocks to her house. I had brought my own swimsuit, but she insisted I wear one of her old ones. It showed a little more skin that I would have wanted, but we were alone, so it was no big deal. She wasn't friendly to me, that day, but she wasn't really mean, either. It was weird. She had me stay in the pool the whole time, while she lounged at poolside.
"The next day, it was the same, except she made me go topless. On Friday, Claire was there, too. I could see what she was doing. She was...gradually moving me into my...new life.
"For the next couple of weeks, my life consisted of hospital duty in the mornings, where I got to know Cody's family, Kate's swimming pool in the afternoons, where the circle of Kate's friends grew each day, and talking and hanging out with Miranda in the evenings. I'm sorry, Miranda. I couldn't tell you. I couldn't let you suspect that anything was wrong."
"You did an awful job," Miranda chided her gently.
Lizzie favored us with a sad smile, then actually giggled a little. "I've always been a terrible liar. My skin didn't blotch, did it?"
"No, your skin was perfect."
Lizzie took and released a deep breath, then continued. "Meanwhile, Cody had wakened from his coma. I guess it happened during the night, because when I walked into his room one morning, he was sitting up, eating vanilla pudding, with his mom and dad hovering on either side of the bed. 'Is vanilla your favorite?' I asked him, masking my ecstatic joy and relief to see him there, like any other eleven-year-old.
"He looked right at me, and said, 'I know you,' and for a moment, I thought my life was over. Then I replayed it in my mind, and realized that he had actually said, 'No. You?'
"I wrinkled my nose at him and said, 'I like chocolate,' in a stage whisper. He gave me a winning grin and nodded. And from that moment on, Cody and I were inseparable, at least in the mornings. He had a broken ankle, compound fractures in one arm, and bruised ribs, and he would be in physical therapy for several months, but the head injuries had proven negative, and that was the most important thing.
"Every day, Cody's room was my first stop, and it was my last stop before leaving at noon. We read Harry Potter, watched The Price Is Right, and played Battleship endlessly.
"And meanwhile, things...progressed, with Kate. I never saw Kevin again. I suspect she held something over him, too, and I don't think she wanted him around anymore, since he knew the basis of her hold over me. Kate was perfectly happy with people knowing that I was her slave, but she didn't want anyone to know why, or how. Because then, I would belong to everyone. So, you see, in one way, Kate was happy, even eager, to share me with her friends, but in another, darker way, she wanted me all to herself. By now, she was inviting some of the frat rats from SDSU to join us, and I had to...show off for them. They would bring beer, and sometimes I worried that Kate wouldn't be able to control them. I begged Kate to keep them away from me, and when I told Kate that I had never been with a boy, she came to my defense. She said she thought it was a little old-fashioned, but still sweet, and she would respect it. She said that I should save myself until my wedding night."
Lizzie told us more, most of which I'm not willing to share here. You'll just have to accept that Lizzie's torment at the hands of Kate continued to grow during June. I will tell you about one thing, though, because you need to understand the blackness in Kate's soul.
"It was the weekend after the Fourth of July. Kate's parents had gone to Cancun for the holiday, but she had convinced her parents to let her stay behind. I guess I was more fun than a beach resort. Kate had 'invited' me to spend Friday and Saturday night with her. You have to understand that, with Kate, an 'invitation' is an order.
"When I got there, eight or nine girls were already mingling around: Claire, Brooke, Melanie, Sonja. You know the rest. The first thing I noticed was that they were all wearing light blue. Some in halter and shorts, some in T-shirt and jeans. Becki was actually in a dress, which was unusual for these gatherings, but....
"Anyway, Kate and Brooke took me upstairs to Kate's bedroom, and told me to change clothes, into the outfit on the bed. They were always into outfits. One day, it was the Catholic schoolgirl, the next day a cheerleader, next week it would be black leather. Today it was white lace. A dress with a very short skirt. The hem barely covered my butt. The top of it was sheer, almost but not quite see-through. They gave me white lace panties, white stockings, no bra. And gloves, long white gloves that almost reached my elbows. The final touch was red heels. I thought the shoes clashed with everything else, but I had long since given up caring. Just wear what they tell you. That's how you survive.
"They led me back downstairs, to the ooh's and aah's of all the other girls. 'Lizzie, you look positively radiant,' Claire told me, and everyone laughed at some private joke. Kate and Brooke continued to lead me through the throng, each of them holding one of my elbows, and took me down the foyer, through the kitchen, then the dining room, across a hall, and opened the door to the parlor. There were about a dozen more people seated in chairs there, most, but not all, guys. The chairs had been arranged in rows, like a classroom. At the front of the chairs, at what amounted to a small platform, or stage, stood two guys, one of them with his back to me. The one facing me was wearing a robe, and holding a Bible. Suddenly, it occurred to me. This was a wedding. And I was a bride."
Miranda tried to stop her here, and I got up from the kitchen table where I'd been sitting and paced back and forth. "I don't want to hear this," I said.
"You have to, Gordo," Lizzie told me. "You see, you think you know. You and I, we grew up with Kate. You think, she's gone too far this time. You don't know. You have no idea how far she can go, how evil she can be. You need to know. You need to hear."
Instead of returning to the chair, I lay down on my back, on the kitchen floor. "Go on," I said.
"I turned to Kate, and I pleaded with her. 'Please don't make me do this! I'll do anything you want, but I can't do this!'
"'You'll do anything I want, anyway,' she smirked. 'You should just be happy we found such a dreamboat for you. They won't all be this romantic. Next week, I'm thinking...Tudgeman! Now come on!' she pushed me toward the aisle between the rows of chairs. 'We don't have all weekend. Oh. Wait a minute! I guess we do.'
"As I walked down that aisle, The Wedding March was piped from hidden speakers in the walls. I didn't recognize any of the people in the chairs. They all looked older, college age. When I got to the platform, my 'groom' turned to face me, and I did recognize him." Lizzie looked at me. "It was you."
"What?" Miranda and I both said.
Lizzie shook her head, her eyes never leaving mine. "No, that's what they wanted me to think, wanted me to see. They had taken a photograph of you from my bedroom, cut out your face, and fashioned a mask, which my mystery groom wore over his face. You see what she wanted. She wanted you to be my first, and she wanted you to rape me.
"As part of my vows, they made me promise to...screw, and suck, and spread my legs. And you promised to show me new ways to--"
"Stop it," I interrupted her. "Stop doing that. You keep saying it was me. I never did those things."
She rested her head back against the wall and swallowed. "You're right. So, after the vows, he put a choker around my neck, and the 'preacher' said we were man and wife. And...he picked me up and carried me to the back of the parlor, where they had placed a mattress on the floor. He dropped me--literally dropped me--onto the mattress, fell on top of me, ripped off my panties, and he...took me. In front of everybody."
"Then he carried me up to the guest bedroom, and we.... He never took the mask off, so I never knew who he really was."
I thought of three things, after Lizzie told us that. The first was how deep Kate's hatred of Lizzie really ran, that she would go to such lengths to abuse the...friendship...that Lizzie and I had for each other, and how dark was the perverted mind that created this nightmare. The second was the strength of Lizzie's spirit, that she could be put through everything she was explaining to us, and more, and still even try to be happy when she was around her friends and family. Lizzie was my hero. The third was that Miranda's father always hung his key ring on a peg in the kitchen, when he came home for lunch. I was still lying on my back, crying now, a trail of tears running down the sides of my face. "I'm sorry," I said out loud.
Again, I'm not going to go into detail about some of the ways they tormented Lizzie. I'm just not. All you need to understand is that there were constant parties, usually at Kate's, but occasionally at the Lambda Chi Alpha house at SDSU. Lizzie was expected to provide the entertainment at most of these parties. She was also expected to sleep with at least one guy.
"Then there were the girls-only nights," Lizzie almost mumbled. "Those were the worst, because they're the most creative. Most of the guys just wanted to screw, or they wanted a bj, which I eventually learned to accept, but the girls.... They know how to hurt me, and they like to take pictures. That was the 'scrapbooks,' that day at lunch. I couldn't believe they would bring pictures to school. Anyone walking by our table could have seen me...."
"Lizzie," I cautioned her. "It's just going to escalate. It's just going to get worse."
"I know that!" she shouted at me. "God, don't you think I know that? I'm not stupid! I know you think I am, but I'm not."
And that hurt me, that she would think that I thought that about her. "Lizzie," I protested, sitting up. "I've never thought you were stupid. Sometimes, I thought you see good in people when there's nothing there, but I admire that."
"I know," she said in a tired voice. "I just.... You're telling me stuff that doesn't do any good. This is my life now. I have to just...accept it."
"Bullshit," Miranda spoke up huskily, her voice deepened by all the crying she'd done, listening to Lizzie's story. "We don't have to accept anything. We just have to fight."
"With what?" Lizzie shrugged. "They're holding all the cards." I lay back down in meditation.
"Maybe..." Miranda speculated. "Maybe we can tape them, prove that they're doing all this stuff to you, against your will. Maybe you could wear a wire, and that way--"
"I can't wear a wire, Miranda," Lizzie reminded her. What she meant was, she'd be spending most of her time sans clothes. "Besides, that would only lead to the video of my driving under the influence, and my family losing everything. I have no proof that I was drugged." She sighed. "Sometimes I wish my life was like it used to be, back in junior high. Simple, carefree."
"Our lives were never simple," I observed, and she gave me one of those sad smiles.
"Why couldn't I be Matt?" she asked wistfully. "He has the advantage of an older sister who's been there before. I can guide him around the pitfalls. I'm alone. No one to help me. I don't mean anything about you guys. You guys are great. You love me, and support me, no matter what. And that gives me some strength. But in the end, we're all alone."
I sat up slowly, and turned my head toward her. "What did you say?" I asked her.
"I said, we're all alone."
"No," I shook my head. "Before that." She furrowed her brow in confusion, but I was no longer watching her, nor paying attention. My thoughts had turned inward. "I think I have an idea," I said.
It took me about an hour to explain what was bubbling over in my mind. Miranda grew more excited as the day wore on, but Lizzie seemed much more doubtful. I'm sure she had spent countless hours alone in bed, trying to find a way out, and had eventually convinced herself that there was no escape.
After ironing out some of the details (almost all of the talking done by Miranda and me), Lizzie quieted our enthusiasm with the observation, "You should probably leave now. The girls will start showing up, soon.... That's the worst." The three of us were standing face-to-face now, in an intimate circle.
"Lizzie," I encouraged her. "I think this can work. I think we can do it." I didn't know if my appeals were having any effect on her. "I think we need to try."
"I agree," Miranda nodded sharply. "I vote for helping Lizzie." She held out her hand in the middle of the circle and said, "Avengers Assemble."
"Avengers Assemble," I replied, and placed my hand on top of hers.
We both looked to Lizzie, waiting for her to join us. She had this tired look on her face, like these were only children's games, and her childhood was over.
"Lizzie," Miranda appealed to her. "We're your friends. We'd do anything for you. We're willing to follow you to the Gates of Hell, but, Lizzie, you have to be willing to lead us there."
And it wasn't so much the words, as the emotion in Miranda's voice, that seemed to light a spark behind Lizzie's eyes. Almost imperceptibly, she squared her shoulders, pursed her lips, and with a little bit of defiance returning to her stance, she reached out, placed her hand on top of ours, and said, "Avengers Assemble."
To be concluded....