Chapter Three

"Reality"

Richie closed the front door, watching at Trini. He had never seen her like this before: knotted, twitchy, silent but festered, and beyond all of that… lost. There was no strength within her—or grace. Whenever he saw or remembered her that was what highlighted her like an angel's halo. And yet she was also the most grounded person he had ever known, yet could take fight whenever she wanted to. His high school crush over her had never faded like many are rumored to. Instead his affection for her had deepened—seasoned, like white tea slowly boiled to the right heat, and without leaving the tea bags in it for too long. Therefore, when he saw Trini in this diminished and wounded shell of her former greatness, he froze his hands to his sides so as to not alarm her. But he wanted to hold her, to let her know that he was there for her. Instead he remained a gentleman.

"Can I get you anything?"

"No," she muttered.

"Okay," he said. Passing her, he walked to the kitchen in at the end of the foyer.

"Actually…" she called out, stepping forward and then stopping.

Just stepping into the doorway, he spun around, gazing at her, yearning siring in his soul.

"A tea… please."

He smiled, relief swaying over him. "Sure. How about some red tea? Come on in the kitchen; I'll make us some."

Bowing her head, she crept toward him.

Up on the moon, Jason peered at Trini, leaning one handed on the balcony rail. "What are you up to, Trini?" he pondered. "What is the Bear telling you?" Knowing it was almost impossible for an outsider to listen to another person's Sacred Animal, he had not tried to probe hers.

"As long as she has that power coin, she will have the option of morphing," Lord Zedd supplied, approaching from behind. "We must make sure that does not happen."

"She won't morph," Jason said, not looking at Zedd. "The Power disgusts her. All she wants is to escape." He paused, running thought their plan once more in his mind. "Keep your attention on Zack and Sean. They must fail."

"As you command, my Lord."

"Leave the others to me."

Trini laid the steaming tea cup down, enjoying the sweet after taste from the honey Richie had supplied. It perked her up a bit, along with her pores spreading open down her arms. In the jumbled mess of her mind, she was not sure if she had this before or not. For the first time this morning she felt a sibilance of being alive.

"Can I get you anything else?" Richie asked, staring into her eyes from across the kitchen table, holding a tuna sandwich in hand.

"I'm fine," she remarked automatically. The words stung the underside of her core as she said them. Squeezed tear ducts begged to drain once more. Instead she blinked, never releasing her visual hold on the mahogany table.

"Excuse me for saying this, but you don't look like it."

I guess not, she responded in silence. She did not flinch. "Can I stay here for a while?" she asked in a voice slightly louder than a whisper.

Richie paused in mid-bite, gawking at her. He lowered his sandwich after a moment. "It's fine with me," he said, clearing his throat. "I was wondering why you weren't with Jason?"

"Jason…" she began, but halted. Again, phantom tears fought to materialize. She looked away.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—offend; did I?"

"No. It's just a long story. Jason has been gone for a week."

"Oh, I see. You're lonely." He cocked a smile, trying to joke, while knowing it was something more. His sensitivity, born from their high school crush, blared within him.

Alienated actually, Trini meanwhile commented, knowing he could not hear her. Without even trying to smirk, she responded. "I don't think that's the appropriate word."

"Oh." Richie dropped his gaze, along with his voice. "I'm sorry. It's just—I have to ask, Trini—because I care."

She looked at him, bracing for the question.

Take a deep breath, he peered into her eyes. "Were you assaulted?" he asked.

She gulped, almost vomiting but kept her mouth sealed though her eyes almost popped out.

"You were, weren't you?"

"Molested," she sighed.

"Oh, my God!" Richie gasped in a whisper, his voice barely audible. "I guess a hug'd be inappropriate."

"For the time."

Richie stared into her eyes, swaying his head from side to side. "I am so sorry you went through that."

She vomited a laugh. "I still can't believe it."

"You can stay as long as you want," Richie swore. He kept scanning her face with his eyes. "It was more than assault, wasn't it?"

A shudder raced up her back and arms. "I can't say." she said, shifting in her chair.

Pity sang within Richie's heart, guessing at what she meant. "Have you told the police?" He rushed over to the phone, unaware that he was standing.

"I haven't told anyone." That was the truth. Sean and Billy had informed the others while Trini had screamed last night, desperately trying to fight Jason off. She might as well have swatted a twig at a hippopotamus. "Richie, please, don't call them! They can't do anything more!"

"That's what everyone—"

"Don't!" She vomited the command from her stomach, touched by Richie's compassion and sensitivity. No amount of police force could stop Jason. In order to save lives, she would have to keep her rape a secret even though it ripped her composure to do so.

Meanwhile, Richie remained frozen, his thumb resting on the "9" button. Hesitation squeezed his diaphragm, constricting his breathing. Emotional pain yelled from his heart as shock smacked the back of his neck. Slowly he turned his gaze to her, clenching his jaw together. "We need to report this," he said softly.

"We can't." Talons of vile abhorrence clawed into her sides at this lie. She knew it was a foolish one.

"Trini, this guy needs to be locked up."

"Richie, please do what I say!" she snapped with the undertone of a whine, scraping up shreds of dignity.

Still, Richie hesitated, torn with indecision at what the greater good was for this situation. Sighing, he set the phone down. "Alright."

"Thank you." Relief glimmered within her.

Unfortunately, it was trampled over by the horror of her truth. She could not seek human justice in crime like this. And the fact that she could not do anything now tore at her throat. She gritted her teeth.

Richie glanced at the clock. "Oh, shit, I need to get back to Angel Grove High in fifteen minutes. Do you mind if I…" His words fled from him in his frenzy.

"Go ahead. I'll survive."

He rushed over to the counter, scribbling on a note pad. "This is my cell number and the neighbors' and the school incase my cell dies. It shouldn't but you never know. Call me or them if you need anything." He added looking at her, his eyelids stretched back in seriousness.

"Thank you." Inside, she smiled. Richie was the same as he had been in high school, talking too much when we got nervous.

"I'll be back by 3:20. I promise." He yelled, hastening out the front door.

Looking towards him, she waved halfheartedly. The door slammed shut and the lock clicked.

She sighed. At last she could be with her own thoughts again. Picking up the tea cup, she held it inches from her mouth.

Moments passed into untold time as she sat neither waiting nor enjoying the moment as rare thoughts drifted into the wind. Crime and shame covered and clogged her skin, sinking into her organs—her muscles. Even her nerves shuddered. All of her had been raped, not just her mind, vagina, and breasts. The psychological odor blocked up her nostrils, blocking the tea. It didn't matter to her. She had forgotten the tea. Indecision wafted back and forth within her as her will secreted out of her feet.

Finally remembering the tea, she looked down. Its steaming had long abated. Trying to catch a whiff of its refreshing fragrance, she sniffed. The tea had no smell anymore. Instead, wafts of rape swept up into her nose. Gagging she rolled her head towards the clock.

1:44pm.

Trini had been sitting here for over an hour since Richie left. Grasping the back of her chair, she pushed herself up, shuffling out of the kitchen to the hallway, leaving the tea on the table.

Though it had been a long time since she had visited, she remembered where his bathroom was.

Shutting the door out of habit, she disrobed, throwing her garments to the floor with disgust. Each article of clothing, no matter how clean it had been or was, was now tainted, stamped with the violence and evil Jason had stained her body with. She sneered, anger condensing underneath her depression like a humid haze, burning the fog away for now.

Trini did not look herself in the mirror, knowing exactly where the blackening bruises disfigured her skin. The pain from them had not ebbed. Had she been X-rayed, she would not be surprised if her rips and pelvis had been at least cracked. Still, she would not look at the massive hand shaped bruised along her ribs.

Sitting on the outside of the tub, she turned the facet, feeling the water flow over her outstretched hand. Trini listened to it, the sound of the earth inside a human construction, rushing over the dullness of her mind. Closing her eyes, she swayed side to side, surrendering to the power and majesty of this beautiful gift given to all living beings on Earth by Creation.

Feeling it warm enough, she flipped the shower toggle, and the water sprayed from above. Rising, she stepped in, ignoring the shower curtain. Though enclosed in this sanctuary from the outside world, further entrapment fed her anxiety, horror, and revulsion. Deciding to blot up any puddles with another towel, she turned her back to the door.

The water sprayed her skin, bounced off, and sprayed again and again, pushing loose layers of grime off her skin.

Unfortunately, the odor remained. Stubborn and deep rooted, it clung to her body, unwilling to let go. Smelling it afresh, her stomach churned. She pushed down a vomit.

Driving her fingers through her now soaked, thick hair, she pulled apart the many knots. She stepped away from the water. Pouring some shampoo into a hand, she worked it in her hair, getting every centimeter she could. Without rinsing her hair, she rubbed her body down with dove Ivory soap. Though she preferred body wash, she kept rubbing, scrubbing her skin, sanding the odor and dried sweat off her skin. Taking care to rub gently and thoroughly over her ribs and hips, she covered her entire body in soap. Finally, she stepped underneath the water, shivering with dry sobs as it washed down her, blasting away the soap. The odor remained.

Teary eyed, she scrubbed again.

Seven full body scrubs later, she exited the bathroom wrapped in a towel, dragging her clothes behind her. Ignoring her hair, she let it lay loose down her back, the top of the towel soaking up some of its moisture. Trudging forward, she ambled to Richie's laundry room, further down the hall from the foyer and kitchen.

The familiar fog of indecision and apathy secreted by her depression once again wrapped around her, swallowing her thoughts. Automation navigated her into the annexed laundry room where another door led to an outside patio along the north side of the house. Opening the washer and seeing it was empty, she dumped her clothes in, poured some detergent inside it, adjusted the settings, and switched it on.

She backed up, staring at the machine, wishing she could clean herself as easily. Trini had scrubbed herself so much that scratch marks were visible along her arms. Neither the soap nor water removed the stain of Jason's sin. As she listened to the washer running, she wished she had burned her clothes instead, feeling they were poisoned by being close to her skin but at the same time, she wanted to be covered. The towel was not enough. Legs quivering, she crumpled onto the floor in a ball, relinquishing more tears and sobs.

Surprise popped in the back of her mind, believing she was tired of crying. Still she cried on, vomiting up dry heaves. Even after the vomiting and tears stopped, she kept sobbing, begging for God to take her shame away.