The Function to Breathe

Eighteen

A/N:  I'm quite worried about this chapter, as it's pretty dark and graphic, but it's totally essential to the story.  I hope you find it OK. 

~*~*~*~*~

1999

I was walking home from the underground station after finishing an evening's work in the box office at Sadler's Wells. It was a walk I did often, at least twice a week, and I was used to it. It never bothered me, walking home alone in the dark. We were lucky enough to live in a relatively nice area and I'd never had any problems.

On that particular evening though I wasn't far from home when I heard a noise behind me, something like footsteps. It sounded as if someone was trying to walk quietly and not be heard, but they weren't managing it very well. Without slowing I glanced over my shoulder; there was a man walking alone not that far behind me. I suddenly felt nervous, I don't know why. There were often other people about when I walked home and normally it didn't concern me, but there was just something about this person that I didn't like the look of. I debated crossing the road – even though I was on the right side for my house – but decided just to keep walking, maybe speed up a little bit. I'd be home in a couple of minutes.

But as I sped up he did too, he must have done anyway because seconds later, when I was only about 100 metres from my front door, he grabbed my arm, his fingers biting into my bicep.

"Don't scream," he hissed close to my ear as I went to do just that.

We'd passed an alleyway a few metres back and he started to drag me back there. "Don't hurt me," I gasped. "Please don't hurt me. I'll give you my money. I haven't got much, but you can have what I've got."

He didn't speak until we were a few feet inside the alleyway and then he pushed me hard up against the dirty brick wall. "I don't want your money darlin'." He sneered, leaning closer.

My stomach churned and I thought I would be sick, not only at the realisation of what he did want, but at the smell of him. He reeked of beer and grease and unwashed bodies. The smell washed over me as he pressed me to the wall with one arm and started to fumble with my clothing with the other hand.

"Please don't hurt me," I repeated, my voice shaking with fear as I tried to push him away. If I could get away then maybe I could outrun him, he looked pretty unfit.

"Shut up." He snarled and raised his hand to hit me hard across my cheek. My head snapped to one side with the force and I tasted blood as I bit my lip. Then he jerked me further down the alley and pushed me forward so I fell to the damp, litter strewn ground. Then dropping to his knees he roughly turned me over and pinned me in place with a knee in my stomach before starting to tear at my clothes.

*****

I was shaking so much that when I got home I couldn't get my key in the front door; I had to knock and wait for Tara to come and let me in. Then when she did open the door I didn't know what to say, there were no words to describe what had happened, how I felt. I dreaded to think how I looked; I could tell my lip was swollen where I'd bitten it, my cheek throbbed and that also felt hot and swollen and as for the rest of me, well, every part of my body seemed to hurt somehow.

"Cat. My god," she said, reaching out to take my hand and lead me inside. "What happened?"

"A man..." I whimpered as she put her arm around me. "A man..." I couldn't say anymore before I was engulfed in tears; I didn't need to say any more. It was obvious from my ripped and dirty clothing what had happened. My tights were torn to shreds, both at the knees when I'd fallen to the ground and further up my thighs where he'd clawed at them. My favourite floral dress and denim jacket were filthy dirty and the fabric of my dress was torn around the buttons down the front. My knees were grazed and bloody, as were the palms of both hands.