Okay... just a warning. This was the hardest thing I've ever written, and will, in all honesty, will probably be the hardest chapter to read. I just want to warn everyone, this is a really difficult chapter, and it's a very sensitive topic. As I said before, I do not approve of anything like this, but it is dramatic fiction. I do realize this story is only rated T, so I won't go into as much detail as possible. So, you've had a warning, please proceed with caution.
By 8:25 on Saturday night, Link still hadn't shown up. She had spent the entire day in her room, preparing for the dance. She had washed, dried, brushed and curled her golden, silky hair until it rested perfectly on the crown of her head, spilling in large curls down her neck. She had slipped on the nicest, silkiest dress she owned, and admired her reflection in the mirror. The dress was dotted with polka dots of different color, large and small. She loved the way it felt against her skin. She had managed to smother enough make-up onto her face to hide the dark circles under her eyes, and she had been feeling fantastic. She had convinced herself that today was the first day of the rest of her life, and that she was going to stop living in fear. She and Link would have an amazing time at the dance, and they would be able to make their relationship work. She would even open up to him; tell him the problems she'd been having. Surely, he would listen. He would make everything better.
By nine o'clock, she had spent the last hour staring out the window in her room, her fingers brushing her silky skirts as she watched every car go up the street, her eyes following its taillights until they disappeared into the darkness. This wasn't like Link; he didn't stand anyone up, much less her. She wanted to call him suddenly, wanted to make sure everything was all right. There was just one problem; the phone was in the living room.
She held her breath, and quickly reminded herself of the vow she had made earlier. She wouldn't live in fear any longer. If Chip was going to harass her, he surely would have done it by now. She pulled her bedroom door open and slipped through the crack, letting her feet carry her soundlessly to the living room. She couldn't help but feel relieved at the fact that it was empty. She perched herself on the arm of a chair and began to work the rotary on the phone, holding the receiver to her ear. It rang three times, and then a soft voice answered. Link's mother.
"May I speak with Link, please?" She tried to be as polite as possible.
"Who's calling?" Her response was tentative.
"This is Amber," she tried not to think about the possibility that other girls had been calling Link, and that was why his mother was confused.
"Oh…" she hesitated, "he's not here."
Amber swallowed hard.
"Do you know if he left for the hop yet? He was supposed to pick me up an hour ago, I was worried…"
"He's sick," his mother sputtered suddenly. Amber narrowed eyes, letting her fingernail scratch the material of her dress.
"I thought you said he was-"
"Sick," she spat back, "he's sick." And she hung up.
Amber sat, holding the receiver for several moments, trying to ignore the burning pain of rejection behind her eyes. So that's what this was; this was his subtle attempt at getting back at her for the way he'd treated her in the past. Fine.
She hung the receiver up, and clenched her jaw. She didn't need Link; she could go to the hop alone. There would be plenty of boys to dance with, plenty who would fall over themselves to get to her. At least that's what she let herself believe.
She let herself stand, and began into her bedroom to grab her purse, and gasped as she came face to face with Chip. She looked up at him, sucking in her breath. He stood so close to her that she could smell the grease in his hair, could hear his breath. She tried to withdraw into herself, the impossible fear nagging at her again.
"Well, well, well," he let himself sigh loudly, his dirty fingers reaching up to pull at a loose curl, "What are we all dressed up for?"
She clenched her jaw again, listening as her own breath became heavy and irregular. She pulled back from him slightly, and he groaned.
"What are you pulling away for, little girl?" When she didn't answer, he began to study her dress. "Polkie dots, eh? Who you wearin' polkie dots for?" She saw him, from the corner of her eye, reach a hand out towards her and she slapped it away quickly, glaring up at him.
"Don't touch me." Her eyes were blue slants of hatred, and he looked genuinely surprised that she had confronted him.
"What'd you just say to me?" He raised his black eyebrows at her, and she sneered at him. She wanted to push past him, but he had her cornered between the couch and the wall.
"I said, don't touch me. I don't care how you fondle my mother; you're not going to put your disgusting hands on me." She had found her strength quickly, and pushed past him, knocking her shoulder into his chest as she passed him. She felt her face burning as she stomped into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her and collapsing onto her bed without even bothering to turn the lights on.
She suddenly hated Link, hated him with all of her heart. He had been her one ticket to freedom, and he'd decided to bail on her. He was out doing God knew what with God knew who, and she was stuck here with the devil incarnate. She didn't understand why her mother was gone so much without him, when she had been the one to invite him to move in. She suddenly hated her mother, too. She hated herself for believing that tonight would fix anything. Nothing ever worked out that way for her.
She let herself cry into her pillows for what seemed like hours, until all that was left inside of her were empty sobs that wracked her body. She let her body curl into a fetal position, her knees rose to her chest and she hugged them, still wearing the fluffy dress. She turned her back to the door, letting her gaze fall onto the blank walls of her bedroom as she began to drift into a soundless sleep, her body still shaking with the aftershock of her tears.
It seemed like it took hours to fall asleep, but with her distorted view of time, it could have been only minutes. She didn't hear her bedroom door creak open, and certainly didn't hear as it clicked into the locked position after being shut. She didn't hear him make his way across her bedroom floor, and didn't feel his rough fingertips as they traced the outline of her slender hip through the dress. His breath was heavy, but she didn't hear that, either.
She sighed in her sleep, shifting enough to make him withdraw from her, if only for a moment. Her body turned slightly, and her dress slipped up her legs just the tiniest bit, but that was enough for him. The sight of her young flesh made his skin crawl, and without hesitance, he reached out and skimmed his fingers over the skin on her thigh. It was soft, barely enough to feel her, but that was enough. Her sleep was restless enough, and her eyes fluttered open, her eyes falling upon his shape in the darkness.
She sat upright quickly, her lungs exploding with a scream that even she didn't recognize as her own. He flinched at the high-pitched yell, and she pulled her legs up to her, swinging at him wildly, punching, kicking, spitting. Her heart was pounding out of her chest, her mouth suddenly tasting of cotton. She screamed louder, letting it rip through her lungs until it hurt her throat and made her hoarse, but she didn't stop; she couldn't.
"Get away from me! Get the fuck away!" He came closer to her, and she began to kick at him, her feet searching for something; anything to disable him, if just for the slightest moment. Anything that would allow her to get away from him. He was stronger and faster than she expected him to be, and he grabbed her ankle, the swollen one at that, twisting it and making her cry out in pain. Fresh tears stung her eyes, and she screamed again as he pulled on her leg, causing her to fall against the bed again.
"Shh," his voice was hoarse, "stop being such a little bitch or this will hurt worse than you've ever imagined."
She sucked her breath in at his words, but continued to fight against him, letting her nails reach out in an attempt to scratch his face, scratch his eyes out. Anything.
"Get off!" The roughness of her voice sounded surreal, even to her, and she squealed as he pushed her against the bed, using one of his hands to pin her wrists behind her head. She screamed again, arching her back up in an attempt to wriggle free of his grasp. Sobs begin to rip through her, and she suddenly found herself pleading with him, as his fingers worked their way into the space between her thighs. Her voice was suddenly small, and she felt the tears slipping down her cheeks. "Please! Please, stop. Stop, stop, stop!"
A grunt was his only response as he bunched her dress around her waist, and she continued to writhe beneath him. Her cries, her moans of protest sounded so far away, even to her. She was suddenly drifting out of her own mind; she was so far away as she felt his fingers push into her, and she let out a deep sob that tore through her, her chest heaving. Her beautiful blonde curls had become matted to her sweaty neck, and her sticky face. The make-up she had applied so carefully had begun to run into her eyes, and it blinded her. The pain of his ministrations, the screams that tore through her, the burning. It was all happening at once, and she tossed her head back and forth, trying to escape from it all. Trying to get as far away as she could, trying to become a bird so that she could fly away. She began to sob a deep, heart-wrenching cry that left her exhausted, and suddenly he was upon her, his disgusting mouth pressing against hers so that she couldn't breathe. She acted upon instinct and bit his tongue as it searched the warm cavity of her mouth. He growled loudly and pulled back, pulling his hand from between her legs to smack her face as hard as was possible. She grunted, reeling at the force of the blow, and felt herself breaking into a million pieces as he neared her again, his mouth dangerously close to her ear. His dirty, stubby fingernails dug into the sensitive skin on her wrist, and she could hear the sneer in his voice.
"Fight your way out of this one, you little whore."
It was that simple statement that broke everything inside of Amber Von Tussle, and she let her body go limp.