warnings: discussion of rape, referenced child abuse, mention of underage prostitution
Chapter 27: Wolfgang & Riley
In which Wolfgang talks to Riley
It's been three days since Felix ordered Wolfgang to take a week off. Three boring fucking days of lost income, but Felix had been adamant, so Wolfgang's been doing as he's told, sleeping when he can and trying not to think too much.
It's dawn, and Wolfgang's awake, has been awake for hours, when he hears Riley get up. He watches through half-closed eyes as her shadowy form slips out through the back door of the church.
He gets up too, and follows her outside.
o - o - o
The morning sky is lightening on the horizon, and the clouds are tinged with pink.
Riley is seated on the grass, cross-legged.
"Wolfgang," she says.
"Hey."
"I thought you were asleep."
"I don't sleep well," says Wolfgang. "Nightmares and shit."
"Oh." Riley nods knowingly. "Yeah, me too."
"So you come out here?"
"Sometimes." She gives a little shrug. "Usually." She glances away from Wolfgang then, seeming embarrassed. "I— I know it can't be healthy. To visit her so often."
"Who gives a fuck?" Wolfgang grunts, sitting down beside her on the grass. "You do what you gotta do, right?"
"Right," says Riley softly. She pulls up a clump of grass, clears her throat. "It's been three months though," she mumbles. "And physically, I'm healed, you know? I think— I think I hoped that once I stopped bleeding and my boobs stopped leaking and everything, I'd— I don't know. I'd feel better emotionally too." She gives Wolfgang a sidelong glance. "Only I guess it never really works like that, does it?"
"I guess not," says Wolfgang.
They sit in silence for a while.
"You know why I like it out here?" Riley says at last.
"Why?"
"Because out here I feel like I can be honest with myself." She runs her hand along the grass, over the mound of dirt where Wolfgang knows her baby is buried. "I lie to myself a lot," she explains. "About everything. Like, I— I used to wonder what I'd tell Luna about her father when she asked. I'd think of all kinds of lies I could tell her. But I think deep down I was doing it for me. Because I wanted to believe they were true, the lies." She takes a deep breath and exhales shakily. "Because that was easier than the truth."
"And what's the truth?" asks Wolfgang lowly.
Riley looks over with a small, regretful smile. "He cornered me in a bathroom and raped me," she says.
"Shit, Riley."
"Yeah." She plucks some more grass and rolls the blades between her fingers. "So how are you doing?" she asks then.
She doesn't specify, but he knows what she means.
"I'm fine," he mutters. "Came back negative for all the shit they tested me for, so."
"That's good news," Riley says earnestly.
Wolfgang nods, and Riley looks over at him.
"I'm sorry it happened," she tells him quietly.
Wolfgang shrugs. "Sex is always shit. Sometimes it's more shit than others. Doesn't matter to me."
Riley seems to hesitate. Then: "It— it doesn't have to be shit," she says, staring at the grass in her hand. "The first time I had sex, I liked it. There was this boy at my school. His name was Magnus." She glances at Wolfgang as if waiting for a response, but he's not sure what she wants him to say.
"Okay," he settles on.
"You— you've never had that?" Riley asks softly.
Wolfgang shrugs again, not meeting her eye. "The first time I had sex I was thirteen and I was starving," he says. "So I don't know."
"Wolfgang..." she starts, but he shoots her a look.
"It's fine," he says crisply. "The cheeseburger I got after was fucking amazing. That's all I remember."
Riley doesn't respond immediately. "You know what Capheus told me once?" she says finally. "He said that it's okay to not be able to handle everything. That sometimes, something happens that's too terrible to handle." She glances at Wolfgang, and goes on more quietly: "I think about that a lot. About how that's why we have to tell all these lies."
"Who says I'm lying?" Wolfgang mutters.
Riley just looks at him. Wolfgang looks away.
He remembers being eight years old and curled up in bed with broken ribs, telling his mother that it didn't hurt, no, not at all, he's strong. Remembers being fifteen and insisting to Felix that his mother hadn't left, because she wouldn't have abandoned him, not ever. Remembers being thirteen and seventeen and every age in between, telling himself that he hadn't just been raped, because whores can't be raped, because they get paid, because they ask for it.
Riley touches his arm, and he flinches back to reality. "Wolfgang," she says.
"What?"
"The lies I tell myself most often," she whispers, hand resting on his arm, "are that I'm fine, and that I'm fucked up beyond hope. But I'm starting to realize... that neither is true."
Wolfgang stares straight ahead. His chest feels tight.
Riley squeezes his arm. Then she stands up and brushes off her hands on her jeans.
"You should come with me today," she says lightly. "Keep me company."
"Company?"
She smiles. "You know. Come sing with me. On the corner."
Wolfgang looks up at her sharply, then away. "I can't sing," he mutters.
"Says who?" teases Riley.
"My father."
Riley stills. Then, cautiously, she crouches back down. "I bet," she says, "that your father was wrong."
"He used to beat me for it."
"Fuck him," says Riley.
Wolfgang sets his jaw. Somewhere inside him, his father is laughing, and Wolfgang is twelve years old, and scared.
Except he's not. He's seventeen, and his father is dead. "Fuck him," he echoes.
Riley smiles. "Then come on. Get up. Let's go sing."
And they do.