Rape

Raped

MG Stough

2010

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A short story about the ultimate attack upon a person's dignity, security and sanity. Evelyn struggles to maintain her composure as she awaits the moment of her utter devastation at the hands of her tormentor. She has locked herself up in her apartment, drawn the curtains and shut the blinds. The lights are off and aside from the soft glow of the night lights, she waits in the darkness for the inevitable.
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Safe. Made it home. Lock the door. Close the blinds. Draw the curtains. Doesn't matter that the windows are fifteen stories up. Don't take any chances. What was that?

Thank God I made it home, Evelyn thought as she checked the dead bolts and burglar chain again for the fifth time in eight minutes. Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit! Who was that guy? Was he serious? God, what am I going to do? I don't want this!

Riding home on the subway, somewhere between Fifteenth Street Station and Quarterman Avenue Station, it had happened. She was standing in the center aisle, holding onto one of the overhead rider bars, staring out of the windows at the passing blur of lights and wall segments and graffiti. As was normal, Evelyn was just riding and not thinking, tuned out in the trance of pedestrian waiting.

He had slid up behind her like an angry eel. Hot breath scalding her ear, the stranger had leaned close and whispered in his gravely voice, Tonight, before you go to sleep, I am going to rape you. There is nothing you can do about it. It will happen. I was paid to do this, so it is going to happen. Then as if by magic, the man had disappeared.

Even now, as Evelyn sat in the arm chair in the corner of the living room of her small apartment, those words slithered through her head again. A cold chill crawled up her spine, then slid downward into the pit of her stomach. It was like a claw tickling her solar plexus, making it hard to breath. Fear weighed heavily upon her. Is he really going to do it? God, Please save me!

What was that?

Footsteps in the hallway. They were slow moving and careful, stealthy almost. Could it be him? Seconds ticked by like hours as each foot fall brought the unknown person closer to her apartment door. Evelyn's breath came faster and more ragged with each footfall that she heard. Closer... closer... finally one foot stepped in front of the door... PLEASE GOD PLEASE GOD PLEASE GOD Evelyn prayed frantically, sweat starting to pool in her armpits and at the small of her back. Then, the footsteps moved on down the hallway.

Not him.

The shadows were growing deeper. Night had fallen so the little bit of light that had been seeping through the blinds and curtains was gone now. Only the timid glow of the night lights plugged into the kitchen outlet and the bathroom outlet provided illumination in the apartment. Evelyn sat in the dark and cringed at every sound, even the sound of her own heartbeat. Can he hear my heartbeat? God I hate this!

Slowly, a new sound slithered into Evelyn's consciousness. Ticket Ticket Ticket... it was a strange staccato ticking sound. It did not belong. Where was it coming from?

Slowly, Evelyn looked around, trying to find the source of that strange ticking sound. It was not in the living room. Not in the kitchen. Not in the bathroom... That left the bedroom.. What the hell is that?

Ticket Ticklet Ticket.. the droning, thumping, trilling sound continued to drum into Evelyn's head. It just did not belong.

Standing up from her high backed reading chair, Evelyn took one single deep ragged breath to steel her nerves. She had to go into the bedroom and find out what that sound was. Frozen, Evelyn found that her body did not want to move toward that room. No matter that she had walked from the reading chair across the dark living room and into the bedroom countless times in the past, now she just could not seem to bring herself to take that first step toward her dark and suddenly threatening bedroom.

This is silly, Evelyn said to herself. I already walked through the entire place when I got home. Nobody is here. I even looked under the bed. Come on feet, let's go. Evelyn forced her left foot to lift up off the carpeted floor, move forward about six inches and then land firmly again. There! That was a step. Now the other one. One after the other, step step step and I can find that stupid scary sound that is in my bedroom! Evelyn told herself as her feet started carrying her hesitant body forward.

The bedroom door came nearer and nearer. That strange Ticket Ticklet Ticket sound increased in volume as she got closer to the bedroom. Thump Thud Thumpthud! Evelyn's heart beat harder and faster with each step, echoing in her head like a big bass drum screaming out in demanding fear.

Finally, Evelyn was within reach of the door. Just reach out and push the door open, silly! Evelyn thought, as her palms began to sweat and her fingers began to tremble. Fear was an icy finger tickling her neck. A bead of sweat, chill and nasty, slithered down her back toward and into her pants. The sensation of a snake crawling down her back was just too much. Panic and desperation drove Evelyn to action and she stepped forward and pushed the bedroom door open with a determined hand.

EEEEE! Evelyn screeched in fear! She jumped, startled and frightened, ready to run as far away as possible, only like so many cornered animals have found out, there was no place to run, and her tortured mind knew it. Evelyn saw her reflection in the mirror above her dresser, a haggard, frightened shell of what she had been only this morning. The sight of her own terror stricken face drove Evelyn even further into the hysteria of uncontrolled fear.

Still, though, the room was empty. Nobody was there. Only Evelyn and her reflection were there.

No... that wasn't quite right. That strange sound was there too. Where was it coming from? Evelyn looked to the right, where her closet was. No. Not there. Wait! The closet. Slowly, hesitantly, Evelyn crept over to the closet and leaned her head against its door, placing her ear against the cool wood surface. Holding her breath, Evelyn listened very carefully, willing her own heartbeat to be silent. Of course, that did not work, and all she could hear was her heart thudding and thumping like a trapped animal. Angry at her own fear, Evelyn grabbed the closet door and flung it open, defying whatever might be inside. Just as it had been earlier when she had arrived home and checked every inch of her apartment, the closet held Evelyn's clothes, shoes, a couple of hats and a box that contained old photographs and memory items. Nothing else. No boogie man hiding in there. No lizard dude from Monsters Inc. Just clothes, shoes and other stuff that belonged to Evelyn. Feeling a little stupid, Evelyn closed the door to the closet.

Turning around, still searching for that strange sound, Evelyn saw it.

That is NOT mine! Evelyn stared at it. Sitting in the middle of her pillow, the one place she had not looked when she had gotten home, was a small box. It was about twelve inches long by four inches tall and six inches wide. Fancy decorative paper covered the box's surface. It would have been a lovely gift box under any other circumstances. Right now, though, it was the ugliest thing that Evelyn had ever seen in her Life.

Tick Ticket Tick... came from deep inside that box. Evelyn stared at it as if the box were a poisonous serpent preparing to strike at her breast. She looked around in confusion and fear. How did that get there? Who put it there? Was it him? Is he inside the apartment? NO! Can't be. I checked the whole place. How did that box get here?

Slowly, ready to jump out of her skin at every tiny noise, Evelyn approached the box. The decorative covering was a silver metallic paper with blue and green peacock feathers etched into its foil surface. Fingers trembling, she reached out to take the object up into her hand. It felt cool, almost alien. With her other hand shaking uncontrollably, Evelyn opened the box.

Three things were inside the box. One was a two hour dial timer like the ones used for cooking, which was slowly ticking down toward the Zero mark. That was where the sound was coming from. The second thing was a note. The third was... Evelyn stared in disgust at the object. Oblong, lime green plastic, shiny and cold, it was an artificial phallus. Placing the box and its lid back on the bed, Evelyn took up the note and read it.

The handwriting was rough, uncultured. It was hand written in cursive ink. The note read Something wicked this way comes, unless before time runs out she doth come. If you wish to avoid what was said on the train, then you will open your curtains, raise your blinds, and do something wicked with your new friend. Evelyn felt the world closing down around her. Her safety, her security, her sanity were no longer protected by the dead bolts and the curtains and the blinds. Here she was standing in her own bedroom, staring at a box containing unspeakable things, holding a note written by a man who had promised to rape her tonight.

What could she do? Call the police! That's it, call the police. Evelyn reached down and picked up her cell phone. There was a warning message written across its screen, Your account balance is too low. Please purchase new minutes now. Stupid. She was two days away from pay day and could not purchase minutes for her pay as you go phone. She could not call the police. Leave the apartment and go someplace very public? He had been in a very public subway when he had told her what he was going to do to her. Stay inside and hope the locks worked to keep him out? Staring down at the note and the box that had appeared on her pillow even though her doors had been locked all day long told her that such a notion was absurd. Locks would not keep this man out of her apartment.

Evelyn looked over at her expression in the mirror and began sobbing, reacting to the sad fear that her reflection showed her. She was totally alone and vulnerable. She had no way to escape. She was going to be raped in—a glance down at the timer in the box showed that she had thirty five minutes left—just a few minutes.

Unless...

The note had said that there was a way to avoid it. But could she do it? Desperately, Evelyn turned around in a circle next to her bed. She had no place to go. She had a choice to make. Either she let some huge evil gross man come into her home and do the unspeakable to her, or she had to do something that was outside of her own moral boundaries.

Evelyn sat down on the floor and sobbed in desperation.

RING! RING RING! The cell phone signaled an incoming call. Evelyn could not call out, but somebody else could call in, as long as they did not mind being charged for the call. Evelyn grabbed the phone from the bedside table and looked at the screen, reading the words UNKNOWN CALLER on its surface. Maybe it was her mother, or Jacqueline her friend from work, or even Patrick, her ex boyfriend who didn't seem to understand that they were finished. Evelyn pressed the talk button and held the phone up to her head, blurting out, Hello! Don't hang up! Please, I need your help. You see, there is this man—I know. The gravely voice cut her off. I know what you are going through. You have to try and figure out what you want out of Life tonight. What's it going to be, girl? Make your decision. Do it right now. Will it be the show or will it be reality?

Evelyn threw the phone across the room, smashing it into pieces against the far wall. LEAVE ME ALONE! She screamed. She hated that man. Whoever he was, she hated him. She hated him for threatening her. She hated him for violating her apartment. She hated him for calling her. Most of all, she hated him for making her choose.

Slowly, Evelyn got up from the floor. She looked down at the box and its contents. The timer read twenty three minutes now. The ugly lime green thing laughed up at her.

What am I going to do? Evelyn thought. Her eyes were drawn to the smashed cell phone. Another sob escaped from her tortured mind. Her chest was tight and her whole body was shaking as if caught out in the winter cold for too long. Ticket Ticklet Ticket, the timer continued to run down toward Zero. Time was running out. With a ragged breath, she suddenly made a decision.

Evelyn walked over to the bedroom door and closed it. She locked it, seeking what privacy she might gain by such a useless gesture. She then walked shakily over to the curtained window and drew back the pink fabric. Next she took hold of the string and pulled the blinds open the louvered blinds. The city night scape glared back at her menacingly. In the past she had found the night time view from her bedroom window to be beautiful, full of lighted windows and towers, traffic lights glowing like and endless length of Christmas lights in the streets below. Now, she hated it too.

Turning away from the window, Evelyn walked back over to the bed. Fingers trembling so that it took several attempts, she unbuttoned and removed her blouse. Then came her skirt. Next, her bra. Finally, her panties. Standing there in her bedroom, naked as she had been so many times before, Evelyn hugged herself and sobbed for a second more. It was suddenly not the same thing anymore to be naked in her own bedroom. Suddenly, it was a violation.

Evelyn lay down on the bed. She closed her eyes. She took a couple of deep breaths. A single tear slid sown her cheek.

Her hand reached into the box, as if it was moving on its own, unbidden by her. The pink ugliness came out into the open, a threat and a condemnation all at once. Trembling with reaction, Evelyn opened her eyes and looked at her hand, as if discovering for the first time that she was holding it. Then, with ragged breaths filled with self disgust and fear and a myriad of other emotions that she should never have needed feel in her own bed, in her own bedroom, locked behind her bedroom door, locked in her own apartment, Evelyn did that which she had no choice but to do.

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Two hours' distance away, sitting in an outdoor cafe, the man with the gravely voice hung up his cell phone, said Gotcha! and sipped at a cup of cappuccino. He could relax now. His job was done. Everything was in place. He had accomplished a most brilliant violation.

A silent vibration informed him that his cell phone was announcing an incoming call. Pulling it out of his silk shirt's pocket, he answered it, What? The voice at the other end of the phone was out of breath, as if having just finished a great deal of exertion. Magnificent! Thank you. I can't believe this! You are a master of the arts! Listen. I sent the money. It should be in your bank account by tomorrow noon. I added an extra hundred for your prompt delivery. The man with the gravely voice smiled and said, I aim to please. Glad you liked the show. Special Order Videos and Special Order Live Shows were his business. He provided the ultimate amateur experience for people with unique tastes, and he made a lot of money doing it. He also made a lot of money setting up Revenge for people.

When a guy had walked up to him at a bar and asked him to set up a revenge rape against the guy's ex girlfriend, he had decided to make money in three ways. First, there was the rape. Then there was the live show. Finally, there was the video of the guy watching the live show. That and a quick in-and-out retrieval of the box and its contents from the victim's apartment would guarantee a successful blackmail session.

The man with the gravely voice hung up the phone. Two more sips of coffee and the man with the gravely voice leaned back in his chair to relax. Calmly he stoked up a twenty dollar Dominican cigar. Blowing out a cloud of rich, thick smoke, he looked across his shoulder in the direction of the city where his last contract had been and said Gotcha!

Kah-OW! A single spark of light and then complete darkness were the last two hair's breadths of sensation that the man with the gravely voice felt. He never noticed the guy who was standing behind him, leaning against one of the awning supports at the cafe. They guy had withdrawn an Austrian seven millimeter semiautomatic pistol from the slit pocket of his leather jacket. Holding the pistol about two inches away from the man, he had pulled the trigger, a look of hurt rage on his face.

As the man with the gravely voice's brains exploded out the front of his face, one eyeball flying out into the street, the guy with the pistol said, You raped me. You took something away from me. Now I am taking something away from you. The young man then stuck the end of his pistol under his chin, pointing backward at a diagonal angle of about thirty eight degrees, and with tears streaming down his grief stricken face, pulled the trigger. With that second loud report of the pistol, the youngster fell backward, his head exploding and his pain ending.

But that did not end all of the pain...

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(c) 2010 MG Stough. All Rights Reserved.
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