The Hiding Game Ch. 11

I awoke several times, only dimly, and only long enough to realize that I was being raped. My body felt heavy and numb, and there was no way for me to move effectively. When I started to struggle, a hand would grab my throat and choke me back into unconsciousness.

He talked the entire time, although I was barely able to hear any of it. The fourth or fifth time I regained consciousness, I tried to remain as still as I could, taking deep breaths and trying to think, to find a way to get away from him. His voice entered my thoughts then, much as I tried to shut him out, and I heard him dimly, as if through a fog.

...really thought you could take him away like that? You thought you were going to own him, that I wouldn't stop you from using him, you malicious witch? All I have to do is bury you, in a field somewhere, and you'll be wiped from his mind. You won't be able to distract him anymore with your tricks, you won't keep him from having the career he deserves. The one I deserve...

I groaned when the feeling slowly started to return to my body. It started with the excrucuating pain I felt between my legs, where he was assaulting me, and I wished desperately that I could go numb again. When I weakly lifted my arms against him, he slapped my face and pinned me, squelching my resistance.

I needed help. I closed my eyes and started praying for Marisol, or simply for someone to come looking for me, and I clung to the one desperate wish while dozens of other thoughts flooded through my mind. I was out of earshot of anyone that might be looking for me. Nobody had seen where I'd gone. Nobody would care, except perhaps Marisol, and she was busy having a good time. Nobody would care even if she was alarmed and trying to find me.

I heard him spit, and felt something hit the side of my face at the same time. His saliva ran down my cheek, along with the tears I hadn't realized I was crying. He spit again, and I only weakly managed to turn my face away.

Seth. His picture entered my mind, and I held on to it. I remembered, very suddenly, one sentence he had yelled in the art room, when we had broken up.

I'm just trying to protect you.

Was this what he had been trying to protect me from? Had he known this was going to happen? Why hadn't he told me?

I opened my eyes again when I heard a single noise, the tiniest fragment of a voice that wasn't mine or his. I thought at first that I had imagined it, but when I felt him tense up above me, I knew I hadn't.

I screamed at the top of my lungs. It took only a second for him to put his hand over my mouth, muffling the sound, but still I continued to scream, to kick, desperate to make enough noise for someone to find me. I dimly realized that this was likely to be my only chance.

Someone turned the doorknob. I was flooded with relief for a second, until I realized that the door wasn't opening, that he had locked it. I heard the sound of impact, and the shaking of the door, as if someone was throwing their entire weight against it.

I was punched in the face and fought hard not to lose consciousness. His body shifted, and I could feel him withdraw from me, scrambling, I didn't know for what. I was dimly aware that my life was quite possibly in danger, and with all the strength I had left I turned onto my belly and started to crawl.

Then the window exploded into a million tiny pieces. I was showered with glass, and I closed my eyes reflexively, but I could see that someone was there. There was a scream of rage, whose I couldn't tell, and then there were more voices, more silhouettes climbing in through the window. I heard the sound of a sudden fight, and the sickening crunch as a nose broke.

Someone had the brilliant idea of flipping the light switch.

I closed my eyes once more as the bright light flooded the room, shielding my face as much as my sluggish body would allow me to. There was something wrong with my vision; even with the lights on I could see nothing but blurry shapes.

"Holy shit!" someone male exclaimed, and suddenly there were hands touching me, carefully rolling me over onto my back. I struggled, I didn't want to be seen by all those people.

"Leave her!"

I almost sobbed with relief when the hands let go of me and instead, I was lifted gently into a sitting position and Seth took me in his arms. I clung to him, inhaling his familiar scent as he held me comfortingly.

"Cantelloni, you got a cellphone on you, right? Call the police, right now. Hanson, get that door unlocked."

The football player hesitated. "Seth, your dad..."

"Just make sure he doesn't get away." Seth's voice was suddenly icy cold, and I shuddered involuntarily. I felt him stroking my hair, brushing tiny pieces of glass away, but he stopped suddenly.

"You're bleeding... I didn't..." He held me further away to look at me, apparently for the first time taking in the full extend of my injuries.

"Shit. Cantelloni, you need to call an ambulance too!"

This was when I started to sob. I wasn't sure if it was shock, exhaustion, the cold, or a mixture of all these things that made me cry uncontrollably, my tears staining Seth's shirt. He held me tightly once more, whispering comforting words into my ear. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision, but the tears were only making it worse.

"Door's unlocked," Hanson reported, and I could feel more cold air enter the room as he opened it. Someone put a coat around me.

"You want to get her out of here?" asked another football player, and Seth gave me a questioning look. I nodded. The motion made me feel sick. I couldn't see Christoph at the moment, because Seth was blocking the sight -- no doubt purposely -- but I still wanted to be as far away from him as possible. I felt like he could attack me again at any moment, and it freaked me out even more.

"Can you put your arms around me?" Seth asked me gently, and I tried. My arms shook, and they felt heavy as lead, but I managed to clumsily lock them around Seth's neck. He put one arm across my back, the other under my knees, and lifted me without any apparent effort. I pressed myself against him as much as I could. One of the football players made sure the coat covered me, and Hanson held the door open so Seth could carry me outside.

What had happened hadn't stayed a secret, I realized when Seth started walking across the grass. There were some students out here; I could hear their upset voices. They were probably the usual drama queens. I could also hear adult voices, trying to calm down the students. Seth came to a sudden stop, and I buried my face in his shoulder. I did not want to face anyone just now.

"Mr Parrish, she needs to lie down. Can we use the nurse's office until the ambulance arrives?"

I was hearing the question through a haze, and I realized that I was on the verge of losing consciousness again. I fought stubbornly, blinking my eyes and focussing on regaining my vision once more.

Not much stayed in my mind over the course of the next few minutes. I recognized the emergency lighting of a hallway through the blurriness, then there was darkness, and the next thing I noticed was the inviting, white sheet of the bed in the nurse's office that Seth lowered me onto. A pillow was pushed under my head, and I could feel myself shaking as I was covered with a thick white blanket. I heard Principal Parrish enter the room, talking to someone and sounding rather shocked.

"How exactly did this happen?" he asked, and before either of us could answer the question he continued: "Is the police on the way?"

Seth confirmed this. Just then, I heard sirens in the distance. I could hear steps leaving the room again, and Seth moved to sit down next to me.

"They'll take care of you, Jenna," he told me, grasping my hand. "It's going to be okay." I could feel his hand shake just as badly as mine, and when I looked up at his blurred face, I noticed for the first time that he was as pale as the sheet I was lying on. I tried to reach for him, but my arm wouldn't lift.

"I'm so cold," I whispered. I did in fact feel like I had just been submerged in a tub of ice water, and Seth bent over me, brushing my cheek. I couldn't feel his touch.

I never realized that I slipped into unconsciousness again, but the next thing I noticed was people crowding around me, then they were gone, then I was being touched, and a female voice gently said my name over and over.

"Yes," I finally managed to get across my lips. The light was still harsh, but different, it was giving me a headache, and still I couldn't see anything but faint movement, and patches of color.

"Jenna, my name is Karyn Johnson. I'm a nurse at St. Mary's Hospital. Can you understand me?"

"Yes," I whispered again, the simple act taking a large amount of my energy.

"Jenna, I'm here to document your injuries and collect evidence. Do you remember what happened to you?"

I shuddered involuntarily and nodded. The movement made my head explode in pain, and I winced and closed my eyes, which were useless anyway.

"Is it okay with you if I take pictures of your injuries, Jenna?"

Having learned this time, I kept my head completely still and instead whispered "Yes" another time.

"There is a female officer of the law outside who will be with us in just a moment," Karyn informed me. I heard the clicking of a camera, repeatedly.

"I'm going to have to cut open your dress," Karyn explained, and I opened my mouth to protest. Just in time, I realized that my dress was ruined anyway, and for some strange reason this brought tears to my eyes. I felt the fabric being tugged at, and I heard the metal sound of the scissors as she cut the dress apart at the side, and then gently pulled it away from under me. I immediately moved my hands to cover myself, noticing that only one of the bra adhesives Marisol had given me was still in place. My panties were gone.

I heard the door open and close just then, and the fact that I couldn't see and was laying naked on a bed made the fact this much more unsettling. I was covered in a blanket just a second after this, and then the new woman introduced herself as Officer Marquez.

The next hour or so was not pleasant. I couldn't tell how long it was really taking, only guess. I was photographed repeatedly, and my pubic area was combed for several minutes, the nurse collecting anything loose. They took hair of mine as well, and scraped my fingernails for evidence.

The swab was the worst. Officer Marquez held my hand when I had to spread my legs apart, leaving me horribly vulnerable, and when I had to lie completely still to someone touching me there. I started crying again quietly at that point, overwhelmed by the feelings of dread and shame. The procedure was finished with a blood sample taken from my arm, so they could test for any sexually transmitted diseases.

Throughout the entire time, Officer Marquez talked to me, asking me about details of the rape and confirming what people at the school had reported. I didn't want to talk about any of it, just to push it all to the very back of my mind and never think about it again. I wasn't much use anyway, since I could only speak a few sentences at a time without going crazy with pain.

I was finally covered in a real, thicker blanket, and allowed to rest for a few moments. I was so exhausted that I didn't even consider if it was a good idea to sleep, but simply did.

***

When I woke up, I was in a different room. I knew this because the light was different, much softer and dimmed, and when I opened my eyes and blinked a few times, I was actually able to see more than blurry outlines for once. It appeared to be a private room, my bed was the only one in it, but when I looked more closely, I could see another person sitting on a chair by the door.

"Mari?" I whispered, and she jumped.

"Jenna, you're awake!"

I winced at the shrillness of her voice, and she immediately whispered an apology and came closer, sitting by the side of the bed.

"Hi," I said, for lack of anything better coming to my mind.

"Hi Jenna," she said. She was pale, and her dark eyes looked more worried than I had ever seen them.

"How are you?" I asked her, moving my hand to grasp hers, and she gave me a slight smile.

"Doesn't matter. I'd ask you how you are doing, but somehow I don't think that's a good question right now."

It wasn't, I realized. In order to honestly tell her, I would have to figure that out for myself first, and I truly didn't want to. Instead, I tried to raise my hand to feel my head, which was throbbing.

"What... what did they...?"

Marisol gently caught my clumsily moving hand and placed it back on the blanket.

"You have stitches there. You probably shouldn't touch them. Your scalp was pretty split open."

"Oh." I refused to think about this too much. "What time is it?" I asked Marisol instead, and she checked her watch.

"About three twenty-five. Middle of the night."

"Oh," I said. I'd been here for quite a while then. From the way Marisol looked, I figured she had been too, and I asked her about it.

"God, Jenna," she said. "It was the scariest thing I've ever been through. One minute I was talking to Jon and having a good time and wondering where the heck you'd wandered off to, and the next moment all I know is there were girls hysterically crying rape and the police driving up, and next thing Audra suddenly offers me a ride to the hospital and I sit in a waiting room between Rick Cantelloni and Seth Marshall, who tells me that his dad did this to you."

Seth. I wondered how he was doing, how he was taking this.

"Is he still here?" I asked, and Marisol bit her lip.

"Yeah," she said reluctantly. "He's still in the waiting area, along with a bunch of other people. I'm afraid I sort of told him to go to hell, after he told me about his dad. I was just so pissed, about this bunch of cheerleaders sitting there crying like they'd been your best friends for years. You know they wouldn't even care if the football players weren't here, and they're only here for Seth's support, not yours."

She sighed. "So I told them to go to hell, and Seth in particular. I felt bad afterwards, but there you go. Not like he's going to care."

I smiled weakly. "He just might, you know."

"I tried calling your mom," Marisol reported, changing the topic, "and so did the hospital. We left messages, but we haven't been able to get a hold of her. I'll let you know as soon as we do."

I nodded. "Okay," I said, my voice shaky. Marisol looked at my face, alarmed.

"Damn Jenna, I'm horrible. You just woke up a minute ago, and here I go rambling about phonecalls and cheerleaders. I'm so sorry. You need your rest."

"Don't go yet," I asked her, reaching out with my hand. She took it and patted it comfortingly.

"I'll be back soon, I promise. But they told me to be careful not to wear you out. There's a nurse outside who's going to yell at me if I stay for too long."

"I don't want that," I said, sighing. "Thanks Mari."

She pressed her lips together and hugged me, careful not to move my head. I was amazingly tired after this short conversation, and I shuddered, exhausted. As Marisol left the room, I closed my eyes, and it didn't take long until my mind went blank.

***

I awoke once more, this time to someone holding my hand comfortingly, stroking the back of it with a thumb. I recognized the warm touch at once and managed a shaky smile as I opened my eyes and saw Seth.

"Hi," I whispered, and he looked up at me at once.

"Hey," he said.

He didn't look good. He was still extremely pale, which made his black eye look that much worse, and the lines around his mouth were hard. The look in his bloodshot eyes was one of desperation.

"What's wrong?" I asked him, and his eyes widened.

"What's wrong? Oh my fucking God Jenna, are you seriously asking me that?" His lips were trembling, and he shook his head slowly. "He almost killed you, Jenna. That bastard almost killed you, and it's my fucking fault, and I don't know how I can ever ask you to forgive me." He pressed his lips together, shaking his head as if in disbelief. I managed to raise my hand enough to touch his cheek.

"It's okay, Seth," I whispered, even though nothing was further from the truth. He shook his head again, eyes firmly closed, his face showing so much pain. I didn't want to cause him any more, but there were a few questions I needed to know the answer to.

"How did you know?" I asked. When he opened his eyes and looked at me questioningly, I clarified: "That your dad would... that he'd do something like this."

He lowered his head, looking ashamed.

"It's happened before," he said, raising his hand when my eyes widened.

"Not like this. Not this badly. I didn't realize he was capable of hurting you this much."

"What happened?" My voice gave out after the first word, and I whispered the second. I wasn't sure if I was ready for his explanation, but I needed to hear it. Seth grasped my hand again, squeezing it, and told me quietly.

"I had a girlfriend freshman year. Katlin Meyer. I don't know if you remember her. I already knew that my dad didn't think much of females in general, and I kept it a secret because I was afraid of what he might do -- to me. I never thought he'd touch Katlin, or her family." He paused shortly and took a deep breath before he continued.

"One evening, I finally told my dad. I was sick of hiding, and so was Katlin, and so I told my dad that I wouldn't let him keep me from seeing her. He locked me in my room and left the house for over three hours, and when he came back he told me that things between me and Katlin were over."

I shuddered. "That's awful. What did he do?"

"I never quite found out," Seth said. "The next time I saw her, she had a bruise on her face and wouldn't talk to me. Her family moved away a week later."

He stared blankly for several seconds, then he slowly shook his head.

"I've always been a bit scared of him, even as a little boy, but until then I didn't realize that he was actually capable of destroying my life."

My gaze wandered up to the dark bruise around his eye, and I squeezed his hand anew when I realized just how much inner strength it must have taken for him to even live with Christoph. I opened my mouth, reluctantly asking the next question.

"He beats you, doesn't he?"

Seth's jaw clenched for a moment, then he nodded, very slowly. He lowered his head when I tried to look into his eyes, and I could see his cheeks burning with shame.

"I could have stopped him," he whispered. "And I never did. I just... I couldn't. He's my dad."

"I know," I said, holding his hand tightly. "Seth, it's okay."

He shook his head mutely.

"Why did he hit you?" I asked reluctantly. Seth's other hand touched the area around his eye carefully, and he sighed.

"That one was for losing."

"Losing?" It took me a moment until I realized what he was referring to. "You mean the game?"

He nodded. "He wants me to win. To play perfectly. He wants me to play college ball."

"And you?"

"I want that too. Hell, I love football." He shrugged helplessly. "That's always been his goal for me, because he never made it. My mom got pregnant with me their senior year of high school, and his parents made him get a job, so he could support her. He's never forgiven her for that."

"That's why he doesn't want you to have a girlfriend," I realized, and Seth nodded.

"Funny enough, he doesn't mind it when I screw around. He says it's hard to prove who's responsible when some cheerleader gets knocked up." He shook his head slowly, staring at his hands.

"It's the emotional involvement he's got problems with. You know, I never quite figured out what happened to my parents around the time I was born, but for as long as I can remember, they've had nothing but contempt for each other. My dad blames my mom for the way his life turned out. Even more so since she's left. For years after that I wished she'd come back and take me with her."