Sean Thomas - The Cheek Perforation Dance

— And then?

— He held his penis in his hand … I think … and he

Patrick looks at the middle-aged juror; she has stopped sucking her sweet and her jaw is hanging open as Rebecca says:

— He put his penis inside me and began …

— Began … Miss Jessel?

Clock-tick. Patrick’s heart. Rebecca’s voice:

— He began to rape me …

— What then?

— Then he started saying things

— What did he say?

— That I was …

— Yes

— That I was a bitch … a slut … his little slut …

— Anything else?

— He said … he said he loved my dirty little … – The court waits – cunt

— Anything else?

Rebecca inhales, then she says, slowly, deliberately:

— He said he was going to fuck me in my dirty … cunt and that he was going to fuck me in my little arsehole even if I didn’t like it and – She closes her eyes and visibly trembles as she recounts – He said he was going to … come in my face … and that I was … until I was … that I was nothing … He said I was a slut, a bitch, a sadistic bitch

She stalls. Rebecca stands back from the side of the witness box and she pauses and then she drinks some more water from the glass. The prosecutor looks at the jury, at the judge, and then at Rebecca and says:

— How long did this go on for?

Glass down, chin up, lips wet:

— Don’t know … maybe five minutes … maybe ten

— And you were frightened?

Rebecca looks at the prosecutor like he has said the most stupid thing in the world. Rebecca Jessel:

— I was totally petrified

— And all the time you’d been asking … begging him to stop?

— Yes. I was screaming. I was shouting no … all the time …

— And did this have any effect?

— NO!

Rebecca has almost shouted. The court seems taken aback at this bitter yelp; Patrick watches as Rebecca calms herself, as she shakes her blonde head and repeats:

— It had no effect

Now Rebecca goes quiet. Looks down. The prosecutor hmms and nods, and looks at something on his desk, at a piece of paper he is pinning down with lazy fingers. A moment passes. Tanned face up, Gregory says:

— What happened next, Miss Jessel?

— He pushed me upstairs

— No. I mean … before then?

Rebecca looks blankly at the prosecutor, then her expression relaxes as she seems to realise what he’s saying; Rebecca replies:

— He withdrew from me … suddenly … and then he

— Miss Je

Not listening, Rebecca goes on:

— He withdrew and he … grabbed my hair with one hand and he said … he said I was to suck his … to suck his … cock, to lick the … filthy cunt off his cock

In the dock Patrick grimaces; he can’t help it; in the dock Patrick grimaces and lowers his forehead into one hand: feeling shame and pain and embarrassment and guilt; feeling guilt for everything, guilt for being male, guilt for having a sex drive, guilt for being a horrible rapist. Then Patrick grips himself and tries to rid his mind and face of guilt. He looks up, defiant.

Rebecca is saying:

— He was holding my head by the hair … it hurt … he had my hair in his hand and he was forcing me onto his … penis … forcing me to fellate him … to suck him, I was choking and screaming and I remember my mouth hurt and I was screaming because he was hurting my mouth as he

Patrick stares at Rebecca; despite the hell, despite the worst, despite it all he feels a tiny slight stiffening in his groin as he looks at her: her dear darling face. He is thinking of the time when he

— Forced me to suck him, and he put his hand, he put his finger in my … backside … my back passage … my anus and

and Patrick tries not to; he tries not to be agitated by this but it is difficult. He is forced, forced to listen, forced to listen to Rebecca describing to all these people he’s never met, and all his friends in the gallery, and the unicorn above the judge’s head, how he made her suck him; how he threatened to beat her senseless; how he slapped her hard; how he bit her shoulder and upper arm; how he put his cock in her

— anus. And then he said …

— What?

— He said that the carpet was hurting him, burning his knees …

Rebecca sips more water; her lips are glistening. Rebecca bites her glistening red lips and opens her lips and tells them all how he pushed her away; how he pushed her upstairs, how he pushed her into the bedroom and pushed her onto the bed and started raping her

— again and

— again?

— and again

and Rebecca tries not to cry as she tells them how he bit her, slapped her, told her to shut the fuck up; how she screamed out and scratched him; how he rammed his

— penis

inside her

— dirty little cunt

how he raped her and bit her and slapped her until she was dizzy, how he licked her face how he bit her ear how he told her she was his

— stupid Jewish tart

who wanted and needed his

— cock

in her

— cunt in

her

— arsehole

and so when he turned her

— over

and

— over

and

— took

her hard from behind and

— raped

her and

— raped

her

— and made

her cry and she just begged him and cried out and begged him and begged him and begged him and begged him and begged him and begged him not to

— come inside

Patrick can’t work out which is louder: the clock, or his heart, or the sound of Rebecca’s silent sobbing in the witness box. The silence otherwise is unendurable. Patrick covers his ears with his hands and stares down at the floor of the dock. He looks at a cigarette butt ground into the darkness. The court stays silent; Rebecca is still weeping; the prosecutor mumbles something but the judge intervenes and says, very quietly, as he revolves upon Rebecca, who is still covering her eyes as she stifles a gulp of tears:

— Miss Jessel, I think we are going to … adjourn for the day … so if you’d like …?

Under her hands, behind her hands and tears, Rebecca nods. She nods, and then she turns and steps down and walks slowly out of the box and down the steps. But then she pauses, very near the shocked, white-faced jury. The jury members try not to look at her, but they fail. Patrick senses the jury looking at Rebecca with pity, embarrassment and fascination as Rebecca seems to pause to gather her wits. Next to Patrick’s ear Patrick hears the hoarse whisper:

— The first day is always the worst

Patrick looks at his lawyer, at Stefan, who has surreptitiously moved over so as to stand near the dock, near him, to whisper this. Patrick sees that Stefan is looking a little vexed. Patrick gulps the bitterness in his own mouth and gazes silently leftwards. Rebecca is now coming towards him. With angered excitement Patrick realises that Rebecca’s route to the exit door is going to take her right past him in the dock. Not knowing whether to open his eyes or close them or what, Patrick sits as still as he can as Rebecca walks right in front of him. He doesn’t want to look at her gingham dress and her soft cardigan, at her walk so demure and her face so pale. But as she passes just close by, he can’t help it. She is so close he can actually smell her, smell her scent, smell the scent that reminds him of her, of him; of them. Of happiness.

— Morning!

He says. Underneath him, Rebecca mumbles, bleary, confused:

— Z’it morning?

— Nope

— I was asleep …?

— Yep

She hmms, nods, yawns. They are lying in Rebecca’s bed, in Rebecca’s parents’ house. The pinkness of Rebecca’s yawn becomes a sleepy sentence: