M Sellars - Perfect Trust

Flash!

And the sound of shuffling.

I remember being moved.

At least I think I do.

I’m no longer cold, but I’m terribly uncomfortable.

I feel as though I’m still seated, but my hip is aching, and I can feel my own knuckles pressing hard against my cheek. My arm tingles as if it has gone to sleep.

My back is starting to hurt.

My hair still feels incredibly bizarre.

I start to move but then I remember.

I’m afraid to open my eyes.

I know he is close… I can hear him.

I can smell him.

I gag on the stench

I open one eye and find that the blur is no longer as bad as it had been earlier. Still, I can feel something in my eyes and they are sore. Itching.

I’m in different clothing now.

It looks like it might be a party dress. All I know is that it is shiny and red and frilly, and there is a lot of it gathered around me. My right leg is draped over the arm of the chair. My left leg feels like it is being stretched and pulled out of its socket in the opposite direction. From the way that my feet feel, I guess that they are crammed into a pair of high heels that are about a half-size too small.

My side begins to cramp up and I whimper.

He doesn’t hear me.

He is making far too much noise.

I can hear him panting.

I feel him close.

A shadow moves in front of me, and in the dim light I can see that he is nude from the waist down.

His hand is pistoning back and forth at his crotch, and I can hear him mutter, “So close… Almost perfect…”

A lit cigarette smokes in his free hand as the other pumps faster between his legs. I concentrate on the glowing coal, not wanting to witness his self-stimulation. I watch him raise the cigarette to take a puff and notice that it is positioned between his middle fingers.

Curious.

I’ve never seen anyone hold a cigarette like that before.

I try to follow his hand, but my head feels heavy, and I cannot move.

He moves closer, standing between my legs.

I want to scream.

He starts grunting as something warm and wet splatters on me. I’m afraid I know what it is, and I feel sick.

The scream escapes as a gurgle.

My brain overloads on the fear and disgust.

I close my eyes and pray.

He keeps panting and muttering, “Oh sweet Jesus, she’s so close… She’s almost HER.”

“Did you see that?” Charlee McLaughlin’s voice echoes past me in a distorted roar.

“See what?” Ben’s voice rumbles behind.

“They flinched.”

“Yeah, so?”

“No, I mean like both at the same time.”

“Yeah?”

“Well does that mean something?”

“You’re askin’ the wrong guy, Chuck.”

“It’s been almost five solid minutes.” Her voice continued to echo out of phase. “Should we try to wake them up or something?”

In my mind I was screaming, “ YES!”

Of course, they couldn’t hear me. Hell, I couldn’t even hear me.

“First time I ever saw ‘im do this,” Ben explained, “he said, whatever ya’ do don’t touch me, or you’ll break the trance. Or somethin’ like that, anyway. Just let it go. As long as he’s not screamin’ and they’re both still breathin’, he’s prob’ly fine.”

“No I’m not!” I screamed at them again, but to no avail. Not that I expected them to hear. But I did hope.

One thought kept going through my mind where my friend’s explanation was concerned: “Dammit, Ben! As I remember, you didn’t listen to me then-so why are you suddenly deciding to do as I asked now?”

The sense of absolute violation transcends even the pain.

I know he’s been inside me, I can feel it.

I’m still so weak, so tired that I cannot move.

I just lay there in the cold and cry.

Hot tears stream from the corners of my eyes, rolling across my face and finally dripping into my ears.

I’m on my back.

It’s dark and there’s something covering me.

I can feel cold vinyl against my skin.

The stench of stale cigarette smoke fills my nostrils.

I’m still with him.

How long has it been?

I’ve lost all track of time.

I feel motion.

We are moving.

I can hear the roughness of the mistuned car engine.

The vibration rattles me.

My arm slides across my chest, making tiny jumps in time with the vibrations, until finally it falls, glances from the edge of the seat, and lands in the floorboard-or more accurately, into the trash covering the floorboard.

I can hear him in the front seat.

He’s humming.

He’s humming a happy, satisfied tune. He’s humming “Merry Christmas, Baby.”

The sorry son-of-a-bitch…

I feel the vehicle turn-left I think.

I wonder if I can remember the turns. Isn’t that what they do in spy movies? Count the seconds traveling straight, then the turns? Make a map in their heads?

Who am I trying to fool here? I can’t even think straight.

I wonder where he is taking me?

My stomach wrenches itself into a knot as fear grips me.

He’s probably taking me somewhere, so he can kill me and dispose of my body!

I feel the car turn again, begin to accelerate, then the forlorn squeal of thin brakes reaches my ears.

The car lurches to a sudden halt, rocking hard on worn shocks. I bounce against the seatback like a rag doll then roll forward. My body slides from the edge of the seat and crumples into the floorboard, face down.

I groan.

“Don’t worry,” I hear him say. “You’re almost home.”

Fear slices through me again. I wonder what he means by home? The bottom of a ditch? The river? A shallow grave somewhere?

My mind races, but it isn’t winning.

I struggle to open my eyes and find my face buried in a pile of trash. As we pass beneath a streetlight, I see that my pillow consists of fast food bags, empty cigarette cartons, and things best left unidentified.

We travel in darkness then pass beneath another streetlamp. My roaming eye catches a glimpse of an envelope.

Darkness falls.

Again, for a fleeting instant, the glow of a streetlamp.

Mister something.

Darkness.

I count out the thrum of the tires in my head, keeping my eye focused on the spot where the envelope lay.

Three, two, one.

The light floods the interior for a split second.

An address… 75…

Darkness, three, two, one… 34…

Darkness, three, two, one…

Or was that the stamp?

Darkness, three, two, one…

75 again…

Darkness, three, two, one…

34 again. Was it the stamp again? I don’t know…

Two, one…

Mister something again.

Concentrate!

Darkness, three, two, one…

75…34 something…

I can feel the car slowing…

Darkness, three, two, one…

The car quickly arcs into a turn and then bounces over a curb just as the streetlamp’s glow fills the cabin.

The envelope shifts.

I shift.

I catch a final glimpse as a fast food bag falls in front of it.

Mister and Ash something…

Mister Ash?

Mister Ash what?

The darkness remains and I can feel that the car is moving very slowly now.

We stop.

His voice reaches my ears again. “It’s okay, honey. You’re home now.”

A sudden sense of calmness enveloped me, followed immediately by a screaming pain akin to that of a midnight leg cramp-only this leg cramp encompassed my entire body. I could feel myself double forward, then without warning I was propelled backward with explosive force.

And then the cramp-like pain melted away, leaving behind the sickening, dull ache that usually accompanies a bad hangover. In the span of a heartbeat, I felt myself slowly sinking into a murky darkness that was deepening with each passing second.