Signed, Anonymous
Chapter Seven:
Fire and Ice
With solemn eyes, she watched the brown and crinkled leaves roll down the street, caught up in the breeze. It was like they were playing leapfrog, only they weren't the ones in charge, weren't the ones who chose their activity. Every move they made was controlled by some stronger force. She knew how those leaves felt: violated, angry, irrelevant. They were just leaves, nothing more. It was silly, she knew, to be comparing herself to something that could never have any sort of human emotion.
Ruthie sighed, resting her chin in the palm of her good hand, while the other arm cuddled against her stomach in a sling. She sat on the curb outside her house, alone, not intending any company. It was Thanksgiving, and her entire family was inside. Ruthie could almost hear them talking about her, could hear her mother worrying to them. Her dad would be telling them all about his letter, the one she had written. The conversations just wouldn't be complete without including her mirror fiasco and why she was in a sling.
She ducked outside just as her siblings were stepping over the threshold. At the moment, she couldn't trust herself. She couldn't trust her words, or her actions. She couldn't trust that what someone said wouldn't take her back down memory lane. She couldn't trust anything anymore.
"Why are you outside?" a familiar, boyish voice asked.
"Why are you here?" she asked, not wanting to give anything away just yet.
He lingered, staring down at her, for a moment, studying her body language and her facial expression. As his eyes slid over her injured arm, she knew questions were already forming in his mind, but he said nothing. Instead, he took a seat on the chilly curb next to her.
Ruthie didn't look him in the eyes. She was irked that he had come along and ruined her time alone. Someone was always doing that: showing up when she desperately wanted to be alone. It was a curse.
"I know your family's all here. I saw them go inside."
"So, what, are you spying on me now?" she spat, busying herself with watching a single ant crawling beside her foot.
He continued on as if she hadn't said a thing. "You still haven't told them, have you?" It was more like a statement than a question.
"Tell me why you're here again?" she asked, obviously angered, poking at the ant with a nearby twig.
He groaned, "Ruthie, this is a mistake. A big mistake. You have to tell them."
In a flash, she stood, throwing the twig to the ground. He was not going to tell her what to do. After all, he didn't know anything. "No. No, not telling them is not my mistake. My mistake, Peter, was telling you in the first place!"
His hurt was apparent on his face. "How can you say that?" he demanded, standing to reach her height.
Ruthie shoved her hand in her pocket. "It's true."
Peter's hurt was subsiding, anger taking it's place. "No. You told me because you trusted me. You told me because you love me! Don't you dare tell me that that was all a mistake." He hadn't realized that he mixed his dream in with reality until after the words were out.
Ruthie blinked. "I didn't tell you because I trusted you, nor because I loved you. I only told you because you If I could take it back, I would."
He scoffed. "That's a lie. It's all you ever do anymore." He leaned in so close to her face that their noses were almost touching. "I don't even see why they put up with you. You've become such a bitch."
"You're such a bitch," he whispered in her ear.
She sobbed, wanting his to stop, but never would. His hands grabbed her hips, then slid them up to her bare stomach.
"You're my bitch."
Ruthie slapped Peter with all of her might, leaving a red hand print on his cheek. Fire was burning behind her eyes, as her breathing increased. "Fuck you."
Suddenly he knew, this was not the Ruthie Camden he had known an loved. That Ruthie was lost, never to be found again.
Matt and his beautiful wife, Sarah, had just sat down and flicked on the television. His parents had seemed a little distracted, not saying much to their children as they arrived. Knowing better than to ask them about their uneasiness, Matt had snuck off to the living room, Sarah right behind him. As Sarah flipped the channel every three seconds, he settled into the familiar couch. His hand had hit something in a crevice. Pulling it out, he noticed that it was a piece of paper folded three times over. Curiosity getting the better of him, Matt unfolded it and scanned the words. As he neared the end, his jaw was dropped.
"What's that?" Sarah asked, looking over his arm.
Matt shrugged. "I don't know. A letter to my dad, I guess."
Sarah studied his face a second longer. "If it's just a letter to you father, why are you so pale?"
Soundlessly, Matt passed the page off to his wife. She read it quickly, and frowned.
"Oh," she whispered.
Ruthie closed the front door behind her softly, not wanting to call attention to herself. The house was quiet, which was unsettling. No one seemed to be around. She was about to call out, when she heard whispering voices in the kitchen. Quietly, she crept on her toes, trying not to make a sound, down the short hallway. Before she flattened herself to the wall, she caught a glimpse of her family seated around the table.
"...don't know what to do with her," her mother was saying. "We all know something is wrong, but she won't talk to us anymore."
Ruthie felt her heart rate increase when she realized that they were all talking about her.
"She hardly even gets out of bed in the morning," Lucy's tired voice chimed in. "She says it's because of all the gossip going around, but I don't believe her."
Of course you don't believe me, Lucy, Ruthie thought. No one does.
"What gossip?" Eric asked, irritated.
Annie waved him off. "If she can't talk to us, maybe she'll talk to someone else, a counselor, maybe?"
Ruthie caught her breath. They thought she was crazy. They were going to send her away and want nothing to do with her, just like what they did with Mary. Peter had gotten her quite upset outside, so upset that she did something very unlike herself, but this...this was too much. She was livid...pissed. Ruthie Camden was not crazy.
She pushed herself away from the wall and stiffly entered the kitchen, her hand balled up in a fist. One by one, the family noticed her, and one by one, they realized that she had been eavesdropping. The girl glared at them, her eyes cold, hard, holding not one ounce of warmth.
"I'm not crazy," she argued through clenched teeth.
Annie stood from her seat, looking guilty, wanting to explain to her daughter what she had meant by her words. "No, honey, you're not crazy." Unsure of herself, she placed her hands on Ruthie's shoulders, trying to comfort her. "You're just--"
"Don't even try it. I know what you were saying about me. I heard you. I'm upset, not incompetent!" Ruthie shouted.
Annie grimaced as Ruthie's voice rose. "I know, sweetie, I just-"
There was a knock on the side door, interrupting Annie's on-coming speech.
Silence hung in the air as the Camdens hesitated. Sighing, Annie let her arms slip off her daughter's shoulders, and opened the door. A determined looking Peter Petrowski stood in the door way. He smiled at Mrs. Camden like there wasn't any harm in what he was about to reveal. In fact, he seemed somewhat happy about it.
This is the right thing to do, he told himself over and over.
Ruthie shot daggers at him, but instead of cowering from her, he matched her glare. She stood almost in front of him, her mother in the middle, still holding the door open.
As the family looked on, it was as if Ruthie and Peter were holding a silent conversation. Telling from their body language and Ruthie's white growing knuckles, those hushed words were not friendly.
"I have something to tell you - all of you." Peter was the first to glance away, and into the other innocent faces.
Ruthie suddenly froze, knowing that he was about to break his promise to her. He was going to tell. He was going to beat her to it.
"She didn't want me to say anything. I haven't yet because I thought she would tell you herself. Even now, I probably shouldn't be saying anything-"
"If you know what's good for you," Ruthie warned.
"But I've seen what a secret can do to a person. Especially one like this," Peter went on, ignoring Ruthie's comment.
"What is is, Peter?" Eric asked, watching Ruthie's expressions change like the shapes in a kaleidoscope as it turned.
"She's been lying to you. She hasn't been fine ever since she got home. She wrote that letter you talked about in church. She was raped," Peter finished. He made it sound like nothing, like it was something so simple that could be fixed overnight. He didn't know anything.
There it was again: silence. Uncomfortable, shocking, disturbing silence. They were looking at her, expecting her to say something, but she couldn't. She couldn't say anything. The only thing she could do, was run.
Author's Note: The end is near, my lovely readers.