You Can't Break Her

Chapter fifteen: part four | March

March 2005
Airport field
Bayhollow, Ontario

The airport field was empty. Spring had come and gone, and the crisp yellowed grass indicated how dry the season would be. The blue day melted into a puddle of colours overhead, a calm and beautiful sky that stretched well past the trees of the path we emerged from.

We met at the paths exit. The boys, Arthur, Devin, and tony were puffing on a cigarette and sharing it. Tony pulled out his pipe and unwrapped the tinfoil that held the bowls contents in one place. He hit it and offered it around the group. Each person took a hit, and we talked about drinking on the weekend.

Shayla laughed nervously when the guys started talking about their 'conquests'. They continued their discussion, and it moved from sexual partners to who was better and which guy had more game.

"Amaris is a virgin." Shayla offered to the conversation.

My eyes grew wide, and my heart raced.

Devin licked his lips and winked at me.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. My mouth was suddenly dry, like I had swallowed a pail of sand. I coughed and missed some of the conversation.

I wish I hadn't.

Devin latched onto my hand and began to pull me farther down the field toward the teepee where we had our parties.

"No." I didn't know what was going on. "I don't want to go." I wasn't sure what was going on, but I was fairly certain I wanted no part in it.

He laughed at my attempts to free myself from his clutch. "Don't worry, Im not going to hurt 'cha," he stared back at me for a moment while still pulling on my arm. He knew he had the power in the situation when Shayla pushed me toward him and refused to talk him out of whatever he had planned.

The skies pastel colours were of no consolation. The awe-inspiring sunset was a monochrome blur. The trees spun and twisted as we walked. Shades of grey took over my vision like an old time-y movie in slow motion that turned my guts upside down like an awful rollercoaster on land.

His grip on my fingers was unforgiving. His eyes were squinted and sinister in appearance. The corners of his lips lifted when he knew I couldn't escape him.

We moved closer to the fire pit in the makeshift fort we had thrown together before winter hit. The leaned metal and tree carcass's, a place we drank and partied together, was now a dungeon. A decrepit cell where 'no' meant nothing, a place where words had no meaning.

He laid me down on the ground, holding my shoulders with one arm across my chest and undoing various clothing with his other arm.

"No, I don't want to do this," I repeated, but he acted as if I said nothing, continuing to hold me down he smiled as I squealed. A moment later, he finished, and I was left alone on the hard ground with only my tears and the echoes of my dissaproval to keep me company.

The scene of his triumph. The setting of my unraveling.