Kathryn Fox - Without Consent

Beside him lay a stinking piece of meat. Caesar wasn’t sick. He’d been baited and poisoned.

“NO! You bastards!” he screamed.

Luke hurried to his side. “Oh Jesus,” he said, pulling Geoff inside the back door to the laundry.

Geoff paced, his eyes welling with tears. He punched the inside wall, puncturing the plaster.

“The police will be here any second,” Luke offered. “You’d better get out of here.”

Geoff didn’t acknowledge his cousin’s friend. He was too angry. All he wanted to do was kill the bastard who did this. Fucking coward, picking on an innocent dog.

He ground his thumb into his palm. What the fuck was happening?

Everything was going wrong. His mum was lying inside bleeding, his dog was dead. And it was his fault. He had to get away.

He took off out the back door, scaled the back fence, and ran. As fast as his legs would allow.

Melanie Havelock couldn’t believe herluck. Landing an advertising job so quickly with the company she wanted to work for was a dream come true. She practically skipped home from the station, for the first time noticing how fragrant the gardenias were at this time of night. After a celebratory drink with her best girlfriend, she had caught a late train, all the while planning her career. First thing, it would mean a whole new wardrobe. Nothing too conservative, maybe something a little funky. And new shoes, too. Lots of high heels. After all, she was an advertising consultant.

How good did that sound?

Unable to stop smiling, she cut through the park, even saying hello to a jogger. She crossed the road, and for the first time felt the humidity. Perspiration beneath her new suit made her slow a little as she turned the corner into her street and wondered how she’d break the news to her mother. A job would mean moving out, new friends and holidays away from the family. Somewhere nearby, a dog barked, interrupting her thoughts. She pulled her keys from her bag and fumbled with the old wooden door. It had stuck again and needed a bigger push than usual.

“Mum, I’m home and I’ve got great news,” she said, dropping her keys on the table in the hall.

“Hello?”

Silence.

She threw her bag on the kitchen bench and found the note.

Her sister was studying, Mum was at work and her father’s plane had been delayed. He wouldn’t be back until the morning. Dinner-leftover pizza-was in the fridge. All it needed was ten minutes on medium heat in the oven.

The one time she had brilliant news and there was no one home to celebrate. Just a note. Typical Mum, no mention of the interview, just a lesson in how to reheat food. How did she think teenagers survived?

Melanie slipped the pizza into the microwave and pressed three minutes. With the house to herself, she flicked on the lights in the main living area, along with the air-conditioner, stereo and TV.

Being alone had an upside. She could have more than one appliance on without anyone carrying on about the cost. “Do you think we own shares in the electricity company?” her father would always say.

A moment later, the air-conditioner, microwave, stereo and TV clicked off. She checked. Even the alarm clock in her room was powerless. At least the lights stayed on.

The safety switch must have triggered, she thought. With the porch light on, she went out the front door and around the side of the house to the fuse box. Lifting the metal lid, she flicked on the kill-switch and the air-conditioning kicked back in. Once inside again, she decided to unplug the stereo just in case that was what had overloaded the system.

As she reached down, a rubber glove covered her mouth and her knees buckled with a weight from behind.

“This isn’t funny!” she said, grabbing for her boyfriend’s hand.

“Don’t turn around or think about screaming.” The voice was not familiar. Without meaning to move her head, she saw the knife blade just before it stung her cheek.

Heart drilling in her chest, she struggled for air. Panic rose like a tidal wave.

God, was she about to die?

“Don’t hurt me,” she mumbled. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Tell me where your money is and I won’t.”

The hand around her mouth loosened.

He just wants money, that’s all. Melanie felt her body relax a little. She pointed at the kitchen.

“I don’t have much in my purse, just a few dollars until I get paid.”

“You do as I say and I’ll be out of here real quick.”

She turned this time to see a black cap covering most of his face and felt the knife at her throat.

“Don’t look at me!”

“I didn’t see-”

Suddenly, he had her off balance in a headlock. He tightened his grip around her neck and the knife hovered in front of her eyes.

She could feel his hot breath in her ear, deeper and more rapid as she fought to breathe.

“Where’s your bed?”

“I don’t have any jewellery.”

No answer.

She struggled to get her balance, but her leather-soled shoes offered no resistance on the tiled floor as he dragged her into the main bedroom. With one swift move, he threw her on to her back, pinned her arms with his knees and pushed her face to the side. The knife moved back to her throat.

“Don’t look at me!” His free fist exploded across her face.

Dazed by the pain in her nose and cheek, Melanie took a moment to focus.

“My-my boyfriend-he’ll be home any minute.”

“Fucking liar.” With a quick movement, he ripped open her shirt and pushed up her bra. The gloved fingers exposed her flesh then dug into her, kneading and squeezing until it hurt. Unable to inhale properly, she didn’t dare struggle. She stared at the floral curtain hanging over the locked window.

He snapped off the rubber gloves and she saw a flash of white as he took the knife in one hand while the other groped at his trousers. He took some weight off her arms, but not enough for her to get free. Too scared to look, she thought he pulled out a condom and tore off the wrapper.

“God, no, please don’t. I’ve never done this before.”

“Shut your filthy mouth!”

“Please don’t hurt me.”

He ripped off her trousers and panties then lifted his hips and lowered his jeans. First he stuck himself in her mouth, kneeling on her elbows the whole time.

She gagged and tried to pull away. He just got harder. Then he stopped and moved down between her legs.

Bending forward, he whispered in her ear, “Relax. If you can’t be hurt, you can’t be loved.”

With that, she felt pain shoot from her thighs through to her back. It felt like she was being ripped open, but the knife remained pressed at her neck. Sobbing, she thought she’d pass out, but closed her eyes and thought of her mother’s grief if anything happened to her. After a few minutes, he stopped and pressed his face into her chest.

She could smell his cheap aftershave and mint breath.

Instead of leaving, he rolled her onto her stomach and raped her again, pressing her face into the pillow. This time she thrashed her head, gasping for air. She couldn’t feel the knife but knew it was still there. It had to be. The pain kept on, but now it was as though it was happening to someone else.

Overcome by a strange numbness, she felt as though God was saving her from any more physical pain.

If she did what he said, he’d let her go. She hadn’t seen his face, just felt his weight. And his smell.

She wanted to gag. When he’d finished, she closed her eyes and waited to die.

He threw the bedclothes over her limp body and lifted her head by the roots of her hair, waving the blade across her throat.

“I’m going to get something to eat. Don’t think about running away. If you try, I’ll slice you, starting with your eyes and nose. They won’t even be able to identify your body.”