Chevy Stevens - Always Watching

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak—the idea of closing my eyes in the small room suddenly terrifying.

She studied my face. “Just take your time.”

I took a deep breath, waiting until the pulse in my throat had settled down, willing myself to relax, then closed my eyes and began to speak. First I explained how we came to the commune and what it was like living there, opening my eyes to make a point every once in a while. She nodded encouragingly but never asked any questions, just made the occasional note. “My mother said that he used to give me swimming lessons, but I’m not sure if that’s when it started….” The room was so quiet I could hear the officer breathing—the walls pressed in, the sudden urge to run. I opened my eyes. “Can we leave the door open?”

She looked startled.

I said, “Or is there a bigger room? I have claustrophobia.”

“We can open the door, but officers will be walking past. Unfortunately, this is our only interview room. Would you like to take a break?”

“Just give me a minute, please.” I centered myself, taking three deep breaths. When I was ready, I began again. “We were down at the river…” My eyes closed, I noticed a rhythmic sound, a pattering against the roof, and realized it must’ve started to rain. My body relaxed, and I drifted back into a memory.

Now I remembered how it had all started.

We haven’t been at the commune for long, maybe a couple of months, when Aaron starts paying special attention to me, making eye contact at the campfire, giving me an extra piece of fruit, his hand lingering on the back of my leg when he shows me how to sit for meditation. I’m shy with him, barely speaking when he asks me a question, and my mother scolds me, telling me to be nicer to him.

I’m alone in my cabin, having snuck away from the other kids. One of the dogs, a spaniel, has puppies under my bed. I’ve just slid their box out, and I’m holding one, rubbing my nose against its soft fur, when Aaron comes in the cabin.

He says, “Are you okay? I noticed you weren’t with the other children.”

I stumble over my words, confused and flustered by his attention. “Yes, I just… I just wanted to make sure the puppies were all right.”

I can feel him watching me as I kneel down and slide the box back under the bed. When I stand up, he studies my face, his gaze lingering on my mouth.

I’m uncomfortable at the way he’s staring and want to move away, but I don’t want to offend, remembering my mom’s warning to be polite.

He says, “Come to the river with me. I want to show you something.”

I follow him down to the trail as we push our way through shrubs and bushes, wet from the rain that has now stopped. As we pick our way over the slippery moss-covered rocks on the shore, our footsteps are drowned out by the roar of the river. Finally, he finds a spot around the bend, blocked on both sides by dead trees. I shiver in my sweater and jeans, my breath cloud puffs in the air. He comes close and puts his arms around me, burying my face in his coat. I stand still, my heart hammering loud in my chest, wondering why he’s touching me.

I pull away, peeking at him nervously as I look around. “Why are we down here?”

He spreads his arms wide and smiles. “Life, it’s in every leaf and every drop of water.” He tilts his face to the sky, inhales deeply. “Can’t you smell it?”

Confused again, and wanting to give the right answer, I tilt my own face up, take a breath, and say, “It smells good.”

He eases himself down on a flat rock, crossing his legs, and motions for me to sit in front of him. I hesitate.

He tugs at my hand. “Let’s meditate together. It will be fun.”

I sit, cross-legged, our knees brushing. I bow my head and close my eyes, waiting for him to lead the chanting.

He leans toward my ear, his breath, smelling of sweet marijuana, hot against my neck as I stare at the ground, frozen. He whispers, “Look at me.”

I raise my face toward his, confused and nervous. I’ve never meditated alone with Aaron, and I’m worried about making a mistake.

He says, “I had a dream last night about you.”

“Me?”

He nods. “You’re very pretty.”

I blush, embarrassed and uncomfortable that he’s telling me this.

His face clouds over. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

“No, I like you.” I was even more embarrassed that he’d sensed my discomfort around him, wanted to assure him. “I’m just shy.”

He smiles, looks relieved. “You don’t have to be shy with me. We’re friends, right?”

I smile back, feeling more relaxed now. “Sure, we’re friends.”

“Okay, close your eyes and we’ll meditate. It’ll be cool, trust me.”

I close my eyes again, waiting for him to start chanting. He cups his hand around the back of my head, holding me in place. Then his mouth presses against my lips, his beard scratching. I struggle, panicked by the unfamiliar sensation of someone’s lips against my own. His tongue slides into my mouth, the taste of him making me gag. Scared now, I push him hard in the chest. He pulls his face away, his eyes surprised and angry, his lips tight.

“I thought you said you liked me?”

“I do. I just… I thought we were meditating.”

His face softens. “We are. This is a special meditation. It’s just for us, so you can’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret.”

I feel another surge of fear. This isn’t right. I start to get up.

He grabs my hand, his face now furious. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I don’t want to do this.”

“You don’t have a choice. Not if you want your mother to keep getting better. You remember how she used to be, don’t you?”

I catch my breath. I remembered too well, the dark moods, the threats of suicide. Aaron must’ve seen the terror in my eyes, the moment he had me, because he says, “I can help her, Nadine. And you can help me.”

Then he unzips his pants.

Now, years later, my eyes closed, I described in detail everything he’d done—and everything he’d made me do. “He wanted me to perform oral sex. But I didn’t know how, so he made me open my mouth, then he put it in. And he also touched me, mostly just my breasts. He kept asking if I liked it—I remember that.” I also remembered how terrified I’d been, shaking and crying, not understanding what was happening. “After he was done, he said that if I told anyone, my mom would get sick again. He said…” I opened my eyes. “He said that she’d kill herself.”

I began to cry, reliving all the fear I’d felt in that moment, believing that my mother’s life was in my hands, that if I made one mistake, she’d die. She’d finally crumble under the weight of all her sadness and dark thoughts. The same feeling I’d had most of our childhood, be good, take care of our mother. But who had been taking care of me? Robbie, yes, but he’d only been a boy himself.

And I’d been just a little girl, on her knees in front of this man, scared and helpless, knowing that the things he was doing were wrong, a horrible sick feeling of shame in my stomach, that I was dirty now, that something was wrong with me.

The officer got up, came back with some Kleenexes. I didn’t try to stop the tears. I gave in to them, allowing my grief. For the little girl who didn’t have anyone to protect her. I’d been taken advantage of in the worst way. Manipulated by fear and guilt, trapped and unable to say, No, this isn’t right, stop now. And there was no one who could save me, to even see what was happening. To care.