March 7th — Afternoon, Dr. Samuels' Office
It was a typical psychiatrist office, conservatively decorated with comfortable chairs for the patient and doctor. Subdued lighting, ornate desk, hardbound texts in a tidy bookcase, and low sound of air pushing through the vent from above all combined to create a serene setting intended to put patient and psychiatrist at ease.
Ella Sanders sat in one of the chairs, hands resting in her lap. She kept idly running her right thumb back and forth over the back of her left hand, having just finished telling her story.
Peering intently at the young woman, Dr. Samuels asked, "How did that make you feel?" She waited patiently for the answer, absorbing Ella's body language, the way her shoulders hunched slightly, and the way she constantly looked down.
Ella's face wore a distant, troubled look; her mind was stuck in that moment of being bent over a chaise lounge, arms held down, the battering ram behind her relentlessly driving its length home, over and over. This story had been her secret, untold to anyone until now. Finally seeking professional help in a desperate attempt to overcome the dark feelings of dread and worthlessness that were a part of her day to day existence, she found herself here, sitting in this chair, sharing these damaging details of her personal life. It had taken her weeks to build up the courage to tell Dr. Samuels the full story. She still couldn't believe—
"Ella?" Dr. Samuels gently prodded.
Ella's eyes focused and her attention returned to the office and Dr. Samuels. Dr. Samuels was an older woman, in her late 50s, with a soft manner and understanding nature. Ella had interviewed almost a dozen psychiatrists before deciding on this one, determined to find a doctor she felt absolutely comfortable with. Dr. Samuels fit the bill perfectly.
Brushing a strand of soft brown hair behind her ear, Ella spoke again. "Well, devastated. I… she never liked me, only pretended to. I felt betrayed, strung along, you know?" she continued, with a pleading look. "What am I supposed to feel?"
Dr. Samuels leaned forward in her chair. "All of those feelings are natural, Ella. What they did to you—the way they planned it all out, it's unspeakable." She paused a moment before continuing. "And yet, you got out of the situation, isn't that right?"
"Yeah, I did," Ella said with a certain pride. "I grabbed a towel and ran, kept running until my feet bled—and then ran some more." She remembered it vividly, the towel wrapped around her waving in the wind as she dashed down the streets, bare feet pounding the pavement over and over. She was panting, breathing with her mouth open, running as fast as her taut legs could carry her. Finally she made it to a convenience store and phone…
"And you obviously moved on," Dr. Samuels continued, "because you left Key Biscayne JC and went on to the University of Washington, where you graduated with a degree in marine biology. It's perfectly understandable that you would seek to get as much distance as possible between yourself and that horrible situation. How did you feel about going to Washington?"
"Everybody was so nice," Ella said, a small smile playing over her lips. "And I made some new friends there. Some real friends." Her smile brightened.
"Yes, success! So, you got your degree, you have genuine friends. And you're doing what you love," Dr. Samuels finished, referring to Ella's employment at SeaWorld Orlando.
Dr. Samuels fixed her gaze firmly on Ella. "You have to like yourself Ella—and forgive yourself, too. They raped you. They took something from you that you have to take back. You did nothing wrong."
Ella felt it then, the way she sometimes did when the reality of what had happened hit her unexpectedly hard: the powerful urge to go wash her hands. It all felt so dirty, even now, nearly three years after the fact.
"You did nothing wrong," Dr. Samuels repeated. "Please try to remember that."
Dr. Samuels tried to lighten the mood. "Now, strictly as a friend, how do you feel about SeaWorld? It must be very exciting, working with the mammals! I was always so intrigued by the Orcas!
"Oh yes, it's just amazing!" Ella said brightly, warming to this new line of conversation. "I always thought I'd like to be a dolphin, if I could be any animal..."
March 7th — Evening, Ella's Apartment
After her visit with Dr. Samuels, Ella picked up some Subway and stopped by Barnacle's Book Shack, a used bookstore two blocks from her condo. She perused the latest best sellers, found nothing she couldn't live without, and finally decided to head home.
Of course, after she got home the first thing she did was check her email. Scanning the typical spam ("Viagra, cheap!" "Increase your size!" "International Monetary Transfer!"), one subject line caught her eye:
ATTN: All Key Biscayne Junior College Students, 2004 – 2006
Curious, Ella clicked it, began reading.
Key Biscayne Junior College is very pleased to announce the Engagement of John Boy Wiggins and Jenny Thompson. They will be joined in Holy Matrimony on April 12, 2008.
All Key Biscayne Junior College students from 2004 through 2006 are hereby invited to John Boy and Jenny's 'All-American pre-Wedding Bash,' to take place April 5, 2008. This will be the Biggest Island Event Ever! Jack Thompson, father of the bride, is very proud to host this event at his home.
All festivities will begin at 6:00 PM. Click the link below for map and directions…
"No," Ella whispered. "No, no, no… this can't… can't be…" she croaked, shaking her head.
They couldn't do this, couldn't just come barging back into her life, not now, not after she had finally summoned the courage to talk about what had happened. Not after she had finally broken down and shared all the sordid details with her psychiatrist.
It seemed almost as if she were being victimized again.
She wasn't ready to think about John Boy and Jenny… Jenny… especially Jenny, if just didn't seem fair…
Ella jumped up and hurried to the bathroom, reached into the medicine cabinet and grabbed the bottle of Ambien.
She needed to sleep this off. She would have plenty of time to think about it tomorrow.
March 7th — Night
It was dark in the closet, not quite pitch-black. Her eyes gradually became accustomed to the lower light, enough to vaguely identify rough shapes. The somewhat muted sound of music flowed beneath the door, masking the efforts of Stone Moore adjusting himself behind her. Stone moved in closer, folding his long legs around her lower body. After he was finished, she felt his large hands close around her waist, squeezing softly.
She felt him leaning into her back, rubbing his fingers up and down her outer arms. There was a certain detachment; in her mind, she knew it was happening, but could almost believe it was someone else.
Frustrated with her inability to see what he was doing, Ella closed her eyes and sighed. She had expected him to be rough, take what he wanted; she was surprised at the softness of his touch, at the way he smoothly positioned his body so that it cradled her own. He pressed up close to her, chest to back, and kissed her shoulders, her neck, and her ear. His fingertips playfully brushed the sides of her breasts, curled around them and then up, stroking the swell of her rounded bosom above the skimpy white tank top.
Suddenly she was no mere observer; he had broken through and caused her body to respond. 'This feels so good,' she thought, flushed, as she felt the heat rise within. 'This is really nice…'
She felt the pressure beginning to build up in her head, at the tips of her nipples, and deep within her pulsating maidenhead. Her heart raced, pounding in her chest. She felt his hand pause directly over her heart and heard him chuckle softly.
"Your heart's going a hundred miles an hour," his deep voice whispered. She felt his breath hot on her neck and was thankful the light wasn't on; she was blushing furiously and didn't want him to see.
He casually reached one hand down, cupping a breast, and then did the same with the other. He was caressing, squeezing softly, tracing the outline of her hard nipples but never actually touching them, playing his fingers around the pronounced areolas.
Ella moaned softly, eyes still closed, a vaguely distant smile forming on her lips. She was buzzing, could see the Cliff's Edge approaching. She was like a boulder, rolling downhill, picking up steam. Everything he did made the boulder roll faster…
He brought his thumb and index fingers to her nipples and pinched them, tugging and rolling the nipples around. Ella felt them harden, drew in a sharp breath. He reached down and pulled the tank top up, freeing her breasts. She felt them drop slightly before he cupped them anew. His hands were warm, confident as they clutched her full breasts; the feel them against her soft flesh was electrifying.
He paused a moment, holding her breasts in his hands, and Ella wondered what was coming next. 'Maybe he'll kiss me on the lips,' she thought, barely able to concentrate. 'Or maybe he'll touch me… down there.' That thought sent her into new depths of shame. Her upper chest felt so hot right now; surely he could feel it too!
"Hmmm, you're really warm tonight," he said, apparently reading her mind. "Should I play with these some more?" he asked, bouncing her breasts in his hands. Ella nodded, unable to resist his invitation. Stone chuckled. "Yeah, I like playing with big tits," he whispered thickly, "been looking forward to this for a while."
She felt his fingertips play over her areolas, brushing against the elongated nipples. He lowered his head, kissing her shoulder and then running a string of kisses along her neck. The Edge of the Cliff was so close she could almost see over it…
Gripped in anticipation, Ella felt as though she might pass out at any moment...
Eyes adjusted, she could see a little more now. She lay on her back, prone; Stone lay beside her, touching, exploring. Her breathing increased, became labored as she felt her chest tighten. The feel of Stone's hands, softly massaging what the others had been so keen to take, the smooth caress of his lips kissing her shoulders and neck, lulled her into a deep state of arousal. She allowed herself to relax, felt his strength and warmth press against her, solid as a rock. It was almost as if she were in a dream.
He closed his mouth over her rigid nipple, sucked and twirled his tongue against it.
Fire. Ella gasped, unable to breath. She was so close. "Yes," she whispered, "oh yes, please—"
Discomfort. The Cliff Edge raced away from her, far, far away, as if it had never existed. The buzzing was drowned out, replaced by a piercing pain emanating from her nipple.
"Is this what you want? Hmmm?" he asked as he pinched her other nipple.
She gasped again, gulped. "No! Please, no!"
Stone cruelly twisted and pinched one nipple while still sucking on the other, pleasure and pain, pain and pleasure.
"I think so. I'm giving you something to remember," he added with a chuckle, "something you'll never forget."
He climbed up between her legs. Ella suddenly realized she was naked from the waist down; she felt his cock rub against her thigh as it traveled up, searching. He was pushing her down, holding her in place.
He was so heavy.
"Here it comes," he whispered, and Ella felt immediate pressure against her vagina.
"Get ready," a new voice said: Jenny. "Get ready, bitch."
"What…" Ella mumbled, confused. 'Where is she—'
Stone forced himself down, his cock darting deep inside.
"Fuck this is tight," he said, thrusting powerfully. "Fuck yeah."
Ella gulped, raised her arms and tried to push him away. She rolled her eyes towards the door.
There she was. Jenny sat just inside the doorway, watching curiously in the half-light.
"Fuck her," Jenny said, clapping her hands together quickly. "Fuck the little bitch."
In response, Stone shoved again, forcing his cock all the way in. He exhaled forcefully. "It's so fuckin' hot in there," he said as he pulled out and readied to thrust again.
"Slut knows what she's good for," Jenny commented, leaning forward.
"I'm… I'm not… not a slut…" Ella said, stuttering as Stone brutally punched his cock in again.
Stone began pumping in earnest, withdrawing most of his length and slamming it back in.
"…not… not a… slut…" Ella repeated between thrusts.
"Trying to convince yourself?" Jenny asked, voice dripping with acid.
Ella felt an icy wave of humiliation wash over her body.
"Fuck that slut," Jenny hissed, on her hands and knees and easing closer. "Fuck her!"
Ella felt a strange fullness welling in her brain, a sense of tremendous expectation.
Stone, sweat dripping from his brow, doubled his efforts. He penetrated her in rapid-fire, forcefully ripping his cock up inside her too-tight snatch.
Jenny leaned over, gazing down directly into Ella's eyes. Stone labored above, his orgasm threatening any second. Jenny put her hands on each side of Ella's head, held them there as she stared down.
"Say it with me," she said quickly. "Say it: I'm a slut."
Ella tried to shake her head, tried to ignore the frenzied fucking Stone was delivering, tried to deny the building pressure of what she knew (even though she had never had one) was her own cataclysmic orgasm.
"Say it," Jenny said urgently: "I'm a slut."
"I'm…" Ella said. "I'm…"
Tears rolled down her face.
Jenny continued staring down.
"Come on," she whispered.
"I'm… a slut…"
As Ella said it, she felt the gush of hot cum erupt inside her, heard and felt Stone grunt as he cinched his cock all the way inside.
Jenny smiled, a strange, little smile.
Her eyes popped open. Ella found herself breathing heavily, sweating so that the bed sheets were plastered to her body.
She reached for her journal, ready to document this dream as she had so many others. Not that it ever did any good; she kept having them, over and over, so many dreams.
All of the dreams were different, and none of them ever quite matched the reality of what had happened. She knew that, even as she was having the dream—and that actually made it worse. For instance, had she been so turned on in the closet? Had she responded that way?
Had she asked for it?
Did she deserve it?
She was crying now. Tears, the dreams always ended in tears. She would have a nightmare, she would write it down, and then she would cry about it—and nothing would ever change.
"Not this time," she whispered. "Not this fucking time." She wiped the tears away, knew immediately what she had to do, what she should have done from the very beginning.
What she should have had the courage to do all along.
She called her big brother.
And told him everything.
Robert Lynn Sanders was something of a minor celebrity in tiny Malone, Florida. While in high school, Robert made all state in wrestling, baseball, football, and track and field, something that had never been done before. How a kid from nowhere could place in the decathlon at the US Nationals was the biggest shock of all—as a senior in high school, he finished third in the nation, with minimal seasoning. Sports Illustrated did a two-page story on the small-town country boy.
Big things were expected.
6'0 tall, 180 pounds, fair-skinned with brown hair and eyes, he was respected and well-liked, one of the genuine good guys. He had taken his talents to Florida State, where he focused on track and field and studied aeronautical engineering.
And all along the way, his little sister followed him; she was shy, quiet, but steadfastly his biggest fan. He remembered Pee Wee football, scoring touchdowns and seeing little Ella screaming in the stands. She was there when he wrestled, when he played baseball. No matter what he did, she was there, cheering him on.
She had always been there.
So that morning, when the phone rang and he saw who was calling, he immediately picked it up.
It didn't take long for him to realize something was wrong. Ella was distraught; she obviously wanted to tell him something, but just as obviously was having a difficult time talking about it.
"Ella, what's wrong?"
"Bobby, I can't… I should have called you first…"
Robert gripped the receiver tightly between his fingers. Ella had called; she was upset—very upset—and Robert didn't like it when Ella was upset. She was his little sister; he was the big brother, three years ahead. It was his job to take care of her.
Finally, he got her talking…
After Ella finished the story, sparing few details, Robert found himself shaking in fury as he held the phone to his ear.
It was a time to kill, if ever there was one. But Ella didn't want that, she didn't want him to get in trouble for taking care of her, for trying to fix what had happened. She just wanted to talk about it, to try and find a way to deal with it, get over it.
'Fuck dealing,' Robert thought, 'we have to get some satisfaction.'
'We' because he was in it now; 'we' because he couldn't allow this to pass; 'we' because it was his job to take care of Ella—'we' because now it was personal, and there was a price to pay.
And it was his job to extract payment.
"Ella, it's very simple. We're gonna get some Satisfaction." His voice was strong, sure, a chilling voice that would have scared any reasonable man. Or woman.
"Ok," she replied, sniffling
"This is what we are going to do," he said, a plan coming quickly together. He knew it would work. "I'm flying in tomorrow and driving down—"
"You don't have that much time, Bobby!"
"—and I'm gonna talk to some people. I have plenty of time, six weeks to blow however I want. They want a party to remember, huh? We'll give them one. We'll give 'em a fuckin' party."
Ella heard the sound of typing through her phone. Robert was making Internet flight reservations.
"I've got a ticket for 2:00 o'clock this afternoon. I'll be getting in to the airport at 4:12…"
April 4th – Afternoon, Dr. Samuel's Office
Ella sat in her usual chair in the usual way, hands in lap, but something was different today, had been for weeks now: the way she looked up more, the way she smiled, the way she just seemed… happier, more comfortable in her own skin.
Dr. Samuels couldn't help but notice, and had to comment.
"You seem chipper today. And I like the new haircut, the short look is really nice on you."
Ella nodded. "Thanks. Actually, I've been feeling a little better lately."
"Good! If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was the last month or so. Do you think talking about what happened made it any easier—"
Ella laughed—actually laughed!—at the suggestion.
"No, Dr. Samuels, I don't think that was it. Well, not exactly."
Dr. Samuels said nothing, just sat watching. Waiting. Most patients, if you waited long enough, started talking on their own, they almost did the work for you. Ella was no different.