The Journey Home

8 - Nightmares

Now tell me: how did all my dreams turn to nightmares?
How did I lose it when I was right there?
Now I'm so far that it feels like it's all gone to pieces
Tell me why the world never fights fair.  

-Home by MGK

I showered, hoping that the evidence of what had happened just a couple hours could be erased. It was stupid, really. Trying to get rid of something that I knew would permanently follow me.

A broken sob left my lips when my hand traveled to my most intimate areas and the raw pain there made me flinch. Everything hurt so much.

This time had been different than others. I had been so filled with pride that I had decided to fight. I had felt so much confidence when I told him that I wasn't going to keep quiet anymore. And in a matter of seconds he had the upper hand once again.

It doesn't matter, I'm still speaking up.

He may have left me scarred both physically and mentally, but in a few hours when my dad came home, I would tell him everything.

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I felt exhausted but all the tiredness faded away as soon as I saw my dad's vehicle pull up. It was time to tell him everything, time to finally end it all.

"Honey, it's late." He said, frowning when he saw me.

"Hey daddy." I replied, struggling to stand up. I winced at the discomfort I felt between my legs and on my severely bruised ass and abdomen.

"What's wrong princess?" He questioned, walking towards me. "Something happen in school? Let me change out of my uniform and we can talk about it."

"No dad, it can't wait. It's about Gerald..." I felt the bitter taste in my mouth just at the mention of his name.

"What's going on?"

I let out a shaky breathe and felt my legs about to give on me. Nevertheless, I pushed forward.

"Uhm, I know he's your friend and all.. But he's evil dad." My voice broke and my dad took a step back, confused at what I was saying.

I understood. I had been just as shocked when I realized the type of person Gerald was. Beneath the man I had considered a second father was a complete monster.

"He's uhm, he b-began t-ouching me a few months ago. Dad I promise I tried to stop him, but then things got more f-force, f-forceful." My hands traveled to my neck, hoping to rub away the tightness I felt. I could barely breathe and my dad wasn't saying anything, he wasn't moving.

"He raped me a month ago and has been for the past two weeks... He did today just after I got home from school."

I looked at my dad with tearful eyes, hoping for a reaction, for anything but for the longest time there was only deafening silence. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Honey, I don't know what you got involved in with that boy Michael in school but I already know you've been sleeping around. I didn't say anything because frankly, it's difficult for a father to talk about this with his daughter but-"

What? What is he saying?

"...as long as you're using protection you should be fine. Gerald had already told me about Michael and you."

My lips parted in a silent gasp. It took all in me to speak up and when I had, it felt like I hadn't said anything at all.

"I don't talk to Michael." I managed to say. "How does Gerald know this?"

"Stephanie of course. She's your best friend."

Stephanie. Gerald's daughter. She wouldn't do that. He covered his tracks with my dad long before I even considered speaking up.

"You don't believe me." I stated quietly. "What if I show you the bruises?"

He shook his head, running his hand over his tired face. My dad took a step forward, placing his hands on my shoulders. He opened his mouth to speak but I pulled back, pushing his hands away from me.

"Dont. Fucking. Touch me."

"Eileen! Watch your language I'm-"

"You are nothing to me." I sneered, furiously wiping away the tears I had just seconds ago shed.

"He's my partner, Eileen." My dad said, growing frustrated. "I've known that man for longer than you've been alive and you expect me to believe some shit that you say about him? He's told me what they say in school about you and he only wants was best-"

"I'm your daughter!" I yelled. "It doesn't matter if he's your partner or the President of the United States I'm your daughter and I can barely even walk right due to how fucking rough he was with me. You won't give me the benefit of the doubt!"

"Watch your la-"

"Fuck you, dad. You're a cop, you're my dad! You're supposed to care for me, you're supposed to put people like him behind bars, not defend them."

"Let me see the bruises." He states, sighing.

I wanted to show him, I wanted to prove to him that I wasn't lying. There shouldn't be a need for that though. I wasn't a perfect daughter and I was rebellious, but I didn't even have a boyfriend, I had never even been kissed. Not willingly. I thought that telling him would help, that being my father he'd intervene and stop it. I closed my eyes, willing the harsh reality to go away but when I opened them my incredulous father still stood in front of me.

"I'm sorry, dad." I said. "I'm really sorry this is what you choose to believe." 

My dad reached out to me, trying to hug me and I stepped back. I didn't want him near, I knew I would be able to bear the pain I'd feel if he held me.

"I'll see you tomorrow Eileen."

"You wont," I thought to myself as I walked back upstairs.

I opened my eyes, gasping for air. Once again, I laid there staring at the ceiling unable to move. My eyes traveled around my room hoping to find it empty and even then it felt like I was under a thousand pounds of cement, suffocating.

That dream, no, that memory, it cut deeper than the memories of the actual rape itself.

When I was able to finally move I sat up, pulling my knees to my chest. I had been so tired and overwhelmed with what had happened with Alex that I actually thought I'd be able to sleep.

Living with this fear was like living in a maze. I thought I was finding my way out, like an escape was finally visible, but every turn I made there was a wall that locked me in.

So foolish of me, to think that one day I would stop feeling this desperation.

With a broken heart, I glanced at my phone, the one that now held a new contact. I stared at it for the longest time, before typing in a short message. 

Thank you Alex.

I didn't expect an answer, it was past three in the morning already and he'd more than likely be sleeping. If I couldn't voice my gratitude I would at least text it, even if it was late. I looked to my nightstand, where the small bracelet he had given me with his tip still laid.

Why? What did he want from me?

My answer came shortly after, when my phone chimed.

It's past your bedtime, Ms. Eileen. Go to sleep.

You can thank me over breakfast tomorrow. Be ready at 9.

Good night.