Shared Trauma Pt. 01

Al he gripped his cock again, trying to shame the erection away. It wasn't even that big. Age and depression had taken their toll, and it usually didn't even break six inches. The thick seven-inch hard-on he had now was a fluke, an accident. He knew his sex game was weak. Plenty of partners had left his bed unsatisfied.

This seemed to be working. Now for the killing blow: he was present when Kate was born. Bridget had insisted, for some reason. He refused to hold her because he didn't want to break her. For years, her mom begged him to hold her and he didn't. He regretted it a bit now. Maybe if he had held her as a child he wouldn't be having all these thoughts. But he forced himself to watch her grow up in his head. It drove his erection down. Once he was satisfied with its progress, he began to ready himself for bed. He brushed his teeth and put on deodorant. He dropped his soaked underwear in the hamper in the pantry. Throughout it all, he thought to himself, "You were present when she was born." Over and over again, as a mantra.

He walked into the bedroom and crept to the side of the bed Kate had left empty, hoping not to wake her. He got under the covers and kept a safe distance from her, laying on his back and rubbing her head. She had asked to be held, but he wasn't sure he could do it. His heart was in his throat. She purred a bit at his caress, which made him smile despite himself. When he withdrew his hand, figuring she was asleep, she backed up into him a bit and said, "Tío, you promised." Her voice was childlike and heavy with sleep. Wishing he believed in a god so he could have someone to pray to, Al turned on his side and embraced Kate. He slid his left arm under her head and wrapped it around to her right shoulder. His other hand he couldn't find a place for. He draped it over her body, afraid to touch her. She must have sensed his hesitation. She grabbed his hand and dragged it to her mouth, planting a kiss on the top. Then she moved it to her stomach and intertwined her fingers over his, placing his palm against her navel. Al thought of anything other than the fact that his hand had briefly grazed the side of her breast on the way back down.

# # #

Once, in freshman year of college, a good friend of Al's had fallen asleep in his bed while ostensibly doing homework. Knowing she didn't get a lot of sleep, he left her alone until he finished his paper, then he tried to wake her up. When he was unsuccessful with after a few attempts, he looked at the clock and groaned. It was 6 AM. He, along with the paper he had just finished, was due in class at 10 that morning. So he settled in, fully clothed, on his back, next to his also-fully-clothed friend, who was on her stomach. When he awoke with a raging erection in his jeans, he was obviously uncomfortable. The fact that he had woken up with that erection nestled against the jeans of one of his close friends was even more uncomfortable, however.

Which means that the crisis of confidence when he awoke in bed with his erection pressed up against his niece's naked ass was not new to Al. There were a few factors that made it much worse than his previous experience, however. At some point, one of them had knocked the covers down so that the blanket only covered their feet. He hadn't turned the AC back on when he went to bed, so they must have gotten hot. Indeed, that much was obvious, as his niece was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, which he could see now that she was uncovered. Along with a lot of bruises. He filed that one away and remembered his promise not to look.

That was easier than he thought it would be, because at some point during the night his left hand had found its way onto his niece's breast. It was barely a handful, but it was soft and firm, andher nipple was hard against his palm. On top of all that, he had had a sex dream he could only vaguely remember. A woman he knew very well but couldn't recognize had ridden him until he came inside her. And while he hadn't come in real life, he had pre-cum soaking through his shorts and onto his niece's ass. Which was also bruised. And perfect. Two rounded globes, muscular, obviously, but with what seemed to be a carefully curated layer of fat. He wanted to bury his face in it. He needed desperately to get out of bed.

His phone rang in the study where he must have left it, which gave him the motivation he needed to get up. He gently extricated himself from his niece's embrace, managing not to wake her. She curled up into a ball the moment he was gone. He covered her back up and moved down the hall.

One missed call from Bridget.

He sighed and called her back.

"Hey Bridg—" Al began before he was cut off.

"Al, oh my God." Bridget was near tears, terrified.

"Bridget, what is it? What's wrong?" The sound of his cousin in distress spiked some adrenaline in him, and for a moment he forgot that he already knew what was wrong.

"They found Bridget's car smashed into a telephone pole on the Beach. There was blood on the scene but nobody could find her. I'm scared shitless and I don't know what to do," Bridget said without taking a breath.

"Oh, yeah," Al said, immediately calming down before realizing his mistake.

Bridget went from scared to mad really, really fast. "Al!" Al moved the phone away from his ear. "'Oh, yeah'? That's all you can manage? Our—" and here Bridget hesitated, covering it up with a sob— "Our Kate is missing! She could be in trouble, and you're so casual about it?"

Al returned the phone to his ear. "K's passed out in my bed. Bridget, please, don't worry. She's okay. One small cut that bled a bunch, but otherwise unharmed." The bruises on Kate's body came to mind, but Al kept quiet about that. "I'll have her call you when she wakes up, okay?" Al put as many reassuring tones into his voice as possible.

Bridget took a deep breath, and, as calmly as she could manage, did everything but shout at Al for not calling her sooner. Al once again moved the phone away from his ear and chuckled, remembering how protective she had been of her baby girl when she was first born. The juxtaposition of Bridget's motherly instinct and the gorgeous teen naked in his bed made Al's stomach flip. He tuned back in to Bridget's tirade.

"She could have been kidnapped!" Bridget said, as a punctuation mark.

Al paused, taken aback. "By her dad?"

Bridget sounded triumphant. "Ah, now you understand. My psycho ex lives on the Beach too, you know! He could have found her, and God knows what he would have done with her."

Gene had been cool as far as Al knew, but there was definitely something deeper there if Bridget was still bitter about it all those years later. "He's her father. I'm sure he means her no harm.

"He isn't her father anymore," Bridget said, bitter. "Family court made sure of that."

Al changed the subject. "Look, I'll have her call you as soon as she gets up, okay? She was pretty spooked so I'm sure she'll be out for a while. Please don't kill her when you see her next, okay? She's my favorite niece," he said, smiling, hoping Bridget got some of his goodwill over the phone.

"She's your only niece, Al," Bridget said, a little pacified. "I'll talk to you, and her, soon. I love you."

"Love you too Bridge." Al hung up and collapsed into the chair for just a moment. He had been pacing the study the whole time, unsure what he was nervous about. There was no way Kate's mother knew that he had slept with only microns of fabric between his hard cock and her daughter's amazing ass. Right? That would be ridiculous, Al assured himself as he dug an older pair of shorts out of a corner of the study, changed, and went to the kitchen, dropping his pre-cum-soaked shorts in the hamper on the way over. He scrounged himself up some breakfast and, on the fly, made some for Kate as well. Unsure what she liked, he just made a second omelet. Cheddar cheese, bacon, and red peppers, seasoned to taste with salt and pepper. Some recently unfrozen hash browns on the side and some fresh-squeezed orange juice from the sandwich stall down the street. That stall was one of the reasons he moved to this neighborhood. Fresh-baked bread, homemade cheese, locally-sourced meats. Al believed that heaven was on earth, hidden somewhere in the perfect sandwich, and damn if his local shop didn't come close.

As Al mused on sandwiches, his niece walked into the room. Her brown eyes were still small from sleep, and she pushed the glasses she had pulled out of her clutch last night from her face to rub them. Her auburn hair was a tangled mess, knotted and curled from sleeping wet and the humidity the night before. She was wearing an old e-sports jersey Al hadn't had the heart to throw away after spending so much money on it. It came down shorter than the dress she had been wearing last night, allowing a bruise to peek through. In short, she was perfect. Al's heart ached just looking at her. His cock surged knowing she wasn't wearing underwear underneath.

She smiled. "I smelled bacon. Did you save some for me, Tío?" She asked, as sweetly as she could. Al almost welled up with tears. He was so confused. Kate sat at the kitchen island.

He laughed through the emotion. "Of course, sweetheart," he said, handing her a plate. "I had hoped the smell would wake you up. Didn't want your eggs getting cold." He paused, looking around for anything to talk about. "OJ?" he asked, cursing himself for being moonstruck over his niece.

Kate nodded and said a muffled "thank you" through her omelet. As soon as she washed some down with orange juice, she looked at Al. "This is so fucking good, Tío." She shoveled some more into her mouth. Al liked eating standing up. But he wasn't hungry anymore, so he ate as much as he could so as not to draw attention. When Kate noticed he wasn't going to eat all of his, she began staring at it. Al laughed and handed her his plate too, which she inhaled.

"When's the last time you ate, K?" he asked, glad to finally have something to talk about.

Kate stifled a burp and blushed. "Fuck that's good. What did you do to that?"

"Fried the eggs in the bacon grease. It's very bad for you, but it tastes, as you said, so fucking good." Al enjoyed having his cooking complimented. He very rarely cooked for anyone but himself, but he had tried to get good at it anyway, just so he could treat himself. He thought it was a skill any self-sufficient adult should have.

"You'll have to show me. Mom can't cook for shit," she said, prompting a laugh from Al. "It's true! Any time we get anything good, it's from Granny. And she only makes good dessert. 'Dessert is not a dancer's diet,'" Kate intoned. "As if my instructor would ever let me forget it."

"Did you eat dinner last night?" Al asked, more pointedly this time. He hadn't gotten an answer before.

Kate shook her head, picking up the dishes and moving past all to drop them in the sink.

Again with the nonverbal answers, Al thought. He would get back to it later.

"Your mom called this morning," Al said as Kate cleaned up the dishes.

"I can't hear you," Kate called. "Dishes!" Al walked up behind her and turned the water off.

"I can get them later," he said, balancing on his heels to keep himself from pressing up against his niece. He gently grabbed her shoulders and pushed one so she turned around. She backed into him first and he jumped a little, backing up to the kitchen island where they had had their breakfast. When she turned around she had tears running down her cheeks.

"Oh no," Al said, wiping them off before pulling her into another hug.

"I don't want to. I can't face her," Kate sobbed into his shoulder.

Al was once again reminded that she was only just past childhood. "Easy, easy. How can I help, K? Please, let me help."

Kate sniffed. "You can't help," she said. "No one can. I'm alone, again." She was working herself up again. Al took her by the shoulder and guided her to the couch. She planted her face on his chest and continued to cry.

"Your mother's just worried about you. I would be too, if you weren't here with me," he said, hoping he didn't betray too much emotion.

"You would?" She said, looking up again, breaking Al's heart again.

"I would. I promise," Al said. "Of course I would. I love you, K. Come on. We're pals, remember?"

Kate sniffed and smiled. "Even after I got tears and blood all over your house? Even after I made you sleep with me?"

"Those things are no big deal," Al lied. Well, it was only half a lie. "There is nothing you could do that would change the way I feel about you," Al said, keeping everything as vague as possible.

Kate sniffed. "It's not something I did," she said. Al saw this as the opportunity he needed.

"Is this about the car crash?" he asked. Kate shook her head. "What about those bruises?"

Kate looked up at him, sharply, and rubbed her eyes. "You promised not to look. You promised!" she said, louder now. Al considered how strange it was that she was mad at him. It was a refreshing break from the tears.

It was a short break, though. Al pointed down to her legs to where at least two bruises were visible, and Kate cried again.

"Easy, easy. K, you can tell me, okay? Please, tell me. You can't keep whatever this is to yourself."

"I have to," Kate said. "Nobody will believe me."

"I will," Al said. "I will. I know what makes bruises like that."

Kate nodded, her hands shaking. She tried to speak a few times, but kept failing. She began, stopped, cried a bit, then did it again. Finally, tired of the effort, she just wrung both her hands into the jersey she was wearing and pulled it up. Al saw everything. It took his breath away. Not the bruises, but his niece's body. He couldn't take his eyes off her. For the rest of his life, he would see this vision when he closed his eyes. Smooth, tanned skin running all the way up from her toe to her neck. She must have been tanning naked at home, maybe on the roof. She had beautiful, small breasts, perfect for her body, and a enough muscle that he couldn't make out her ribs. A perfectly flat stomach, rising and falling faster as Kate got more nervous.

Then he turned his attention to the bruises. Several on each of her breasts. Some running down her sides and a few on her stomach. Some were blobs, some in the form of handprints. They were sickly yellow at the edges and deep purple in the middle.

Kate dropped her shirt. It was all Al could do to speak in that moment, and all he could muster up was, "Holy shit."

Kate blushed.

"Was it— Did you—" Al couldn't figure out how to ask her if she had been raped. But Kate knew what he was asking.

She shook her head and it all came pouring out. "I think they slipped something in my drink. I don't remember much. I'm not sure what they did. I'm not sore. I know it was a few people, and I know who one of them is. He was the last one, I was more awake then." She gulped. "It's Manuel Ortiz." My blank stare must have been enough to tell her I had no idea who that was. "He's the mayor's son. Harvard-bound, golden boy. He's a Bacardi, too." She began to cry again. "Nobody is ever going to believe the white trash key rat. They'll believe the Harvard-bound Bacardi." Sobbing now, "It was just a party. I didn't ask for this!"

Al held her tight, completely at a loss for what to do. He did not see this in the uncle's handbook he never got.

She continued. "I remember him. He was the last one, I was more awake. He didn't do anything. Not like, sex, or anything. He just hurt me. Most of these bruises come from him." It was like once she let the story out she couldn't stop, but finally she was done. She just sobbed into his chest.

Al rubbed her back and kissed the top of his head. If she were his daughter, what would he do? Probably file suit or torture the boy for a full list of offenders. Al supposed this was less about what he wanted to do and more about what she needed him to do.

"And the car crash?" he asked.

If Al thought Kate's crying couldn't have gotten worse, he was wrong. When he mentioned it, she could barely breathe. She sobbed and sobbed until she had nothing left to give, then she inhaled like someone being waterboarded and went right back to sobbing.

"K? Please tell me you didn't." Al was inverting the disastrousness of the last nights events in his head. The car crash must have been worse than he thought.

Kate just nodded, and Al began to cry as well. He didn't know where it came from, but to think that this beautiful, delicate girl, so full of life, so charming, would try to kill herself drove him to tears. He held her tight enough he may have impeded her breathing. But he never wanted to let her go again. He wanted her to be safe, forever, even if it had to be in his arms every day for the rest of her life.

Sniffling, he spoke. His throat was raw. "K," he said, and she looked at him. "You don't have to explain anything to me, okay? I've been there before."

"What?" she asked, looking up at him. "But you're... I don't know, Tío." She beat her hands against his chest. "You're cool! You're famous. You have, like, books published and interviews in magazines and shit. Everyone wants to be your friend. Who wants to be friends with the girl who lied about being raped by the city's golden boy?"

"I know, sweetheart. It looks that way from the outside. But I'm lonely. I've had twice your time to deal with it, which is the only reason I'm still here. There's that voice in my head, I don't know if you have it too." Kate nodded. "It tells me I'm never going to be good enough. That anything I achieve I don't deserve, and that I will always be alone.

"Me too, Tío. Which is why I did it. I was so sure it was right, all of a sudden." Her confidence is returning, a little, and her sobs have stopped. She's still sniffling.

"But it isn't. K, Look at you. You're beautiful. You aren't any kind of trash." He picked up her arm. "Certainly aren't white, either," he joked, and she smiled a little. "You're gorgeous and funny and full of life, K." Kate blushed and looked away. "You're still here because you're strong. How long have you been feeling this way?"

"As long as I can remember," Kate said. "It's not that long, I guess."

Al shook his head. "To live every day like this is a miracle. It feels desperate and miserable, but it's a sign of strength. That voice isn't going to let you believe that, though. It won't let you believe any of the things I'm telling you, all of which are true. Not without help, at least."

"Your help?" Kate said, looking at Al again. She bit her lip.

"I meant professional help," Al said, "but of course I'm here to help. You and me," he said, grabbing her hand, "we're the same. Nobody can take that away from us. So whatever you need, I will be there."

Kate closed her eyes and smiled. Then she sat up, not meeting Al's eye. "Whatever I need?" Al smiled at her, gripped her hand, and nodded. Kate gave herself a small nod, and then she kissed him. Al's heart was in his mouth and he panicked a bit. It was just a soft kiss on the lips, but he had kissed her back instinctively.

"Whoa," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. Kate looked confused.

"What's wrong?" she asked, terror creeping into her voice.

"K, that's not— we can't—" Al couldn't get the words out, because as much as his brain was telling him to say them, his heart and cock were screaming other things at him.

"I don't understand," Kate said, her eyes pricking with tears again. "You said you loved me. You called me beautiful."

"I do," Al said, putting both of his hands on hers. "I do love you. And fuck, yes, you're gorgeous. You're everything I could ever want."

"Then, why not?" Kate was upset, but she was just as confused. She truly did not understand.

"K. Katherine," he said, using her real name and not her family nickname for the first time in years," I was there when you were born. I wouldn't hold you as a kid because I was afraid to break you. Hell, I'm literally twice your age."