The Long and Winding Road

A/N: THIS STORY IS NOT REALISTIC! ITS PLOT WOULD NEVER HAPPEN IN REALITY! SO IF THAT UPSETS YOU, STOP READING NOW! This is a work of fantasy and is therefore unburdened by our reality. This is also a really slow burn, the good stuff doesn't really start until about half way through, but the buildup is very important to understanding the choices the characters make.

Comments always welcome and Hope you enjoy!

I didn't plan to have things end up like this. But I'm certainly not complaining; life's turned out great! But the road to get here was a strange, and at times dangerous, one. It started 20 years ago, when I was barely 18 myself.

I'd just finished my first year of university when my ex-best friend was raped. It completely sent our small into hysteria; she was shy, conservative, and while not ugly, there were certainly hotter girls in town that I'd personally have gone after first. Not that I'd given it much thought (I won't lie and say that I'm some paragon of virtue; I was an 18 yr old virgin, so of course I'd thought of raping some girl to punch my V-card). But when I'd first heard what had happened, I'd gone to her house to see if there was anything that I could do to help. Our falling out may have been my fault, but I wasn't a monster that reveled in her suffering.

When I saw Kadie just sitting on her porch, I nearly lost it. The whole left side of her face was bruised, her upper lip was split and her eye was nearly swollen shut. I guess I came across a little more aggressive than I intended as I walked up to her and demanded to know who'd done this to her.

"You mean it wasn't you." Though I could see the fear in her eyes and the brave front she was trying to put up, I also knew that in that moment she truly did suspect me of raping her.

And that knowledge hurt.

Hurt worse than any torture Hell could inflict upon me.

Here was the woman I'd been in love with for the last half of my life, all but verbally accusing me of raping her. Stunned, I just turned away and left. I got in my car and drove. I drove aimlessly for the rest of the day. I barely remember going anywhere in particular, I was just on auto-pilot as my mind relived every memory I had of Kadie, unable to stop seeing our fight a year and a half ago and just now on repeat.

Finally, I made my way home. But when I got there, three cop cars pulled up and long story short, I was arrested. I refused to talk with anyone at the station, not my family (who were horrified with what I'd been accused of), not the police nor my lawyer. I told them all I wasn't going to say a word until after I'd talked with Kadie, alone and unsupervised.

When the lead detective finally snapped at me, asking what sane person would let a rapist further terrorize his victim, especially without any form of supervision like I was demanding, I knew I had to give them something. "I don't care if you tie me up tighter than Hannibal Lecter, so long as I can talk to her and apologize."

He seemed genuinely surprised by this and a long silence fell between us. "I don't get you kid," he said after nearly 10 minutes. "Anybody else would be denying they'd done it, or gloat that they had. You've spent the past 7 weeks refusing to see a lawyer or your family and have only said you want to talk to the woman accusing you of raping her...so you could apologize."

"Let me talk to her alone, no cameras or two-way mirrors, bound and blindfolded and I'll cooperate like we're chocolate and peanut butter. Give her a panic button that can inform you that she feels threatened or wants this to end. All I'm asking is for 15 minutes, that's it. If I can get her to agree to a longer talk, that's all the better for me; but again, that's her choice to make."

I think my earnestness is what finally got to him. It was 5 minutes before he said anything. "Very well, Kyle; I will ask Kadie to speak with you. I will tell her that she'll be safe from you, physically, and that if she feels the need to add any additional measures that I'll see to them personally." Smiling to him, I nodded my assent.

It was a week later that I found myself so tightly strapped to a dolly that just to breathe was a difficult task. An officer wheeled me into an empty shell of a room, facing away from the door, before lowering the blindfold and securing it with duct tape. Each of my fingers was secured individually to the dolly and my bare feet stood on a bed of uneven nails each. Uncomfortable and anxious, I awaited Kadie's arrival.

My breath caught as I heard the door behind me open. Turning my head to see was both impossible and pointless because I couldn't see a thing, but I still tried. And then my nose was assaulted by the smell of peanut butter, which is my least favourite smell in the world and my ears heard the annoying jingling of her favourite Christmas earrings, a grouping of small bells that rattled with the slightest movement of her head. How I hated those bells.

I chuckled.

I knew it was a terrible thing to do, but I couldn't help myself. Kadie was weaponizing everything I hated against me. "Forgive me, Kadie-bear, but I must apologize for finding joy in your attempts to antagonize me."

"Don't call me that! Don't even say my name!" There was no fear in her voice today, only fury.

"You're right; that was the name you let your boyfriend call you. Forgive me for its insensitive usage. But what should I call you these next moments, if not your name? I'm too known to you to be so formal as to call you madam or ma'am; also, the apology I've rehearsed for the past month is built on the understanding that we have a more diverse relationship than accused rapist and victim."

"Why should I care if the worm who raped me is uncomfortable calling me terms that denote respect and authority? You said yourself, I'm the victim. I came here to prove that I'm not scared of you. So, you and your apology can go to Hell and fucking BURN!"

"No words can ever fix what pains I've inflicted on you, Madam. It was only my intention one time to cause you distress; but we both know that I didn't want it to happen the way it did. I'm sorry, Madam, that I tried to make you out to be the thing you despised. It's an action that I've regretted ever since. I know that you hate me right now, but I'm just happy to be here, able to offer you my truest and deepest apologies for my actions against you. Please, tell me what it is I can do, outside leaving you be and rotting in Hell. Say the words and I'll do them, whatever they may be. By covenants of faith, oaths of blood and bonds of love, I swear my apology is true, as is my resolve to obey whatever further punishment you deem necessary to satiate your wrath."

I hoped my invoking of our old vow would snap her out of her anger and let me talk to her earnestly. Ever since we were kids, we'd had this vow, upon which we swore as our highest form of commitment. If either of us had said these words, we knew nothing short of death would have prevented us from following through. I'd invoked our vow over a dozen times in our life and had only broken it once; but despite that, Kadie should have known how seriously I took these words.

It shocked me to feel the sting of her slap across my face. "Your vows mean nothing; just more lies from my rapist!" she snarled at me.

"I don't want to antagonize you further, but when I came to see you, your face was so brutalized that it was all I could do to keep it together and simply ask you who did that to you. I may be capable of hurting you, maybe even capable of raping, but I could never, ever terrorize you in such a way. If nothing else Kadie, please believe that of me. I'm not capable of such harsh violence."

There was a moment's silence while she seemed to consider my words. Then I felt the blindfold being ripped from me. Taking a moment to adjust to the light and sting of the duct tape, I looked at my ex. Her platinum blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, her bruises were yellowed to the point of nearly being healed, her green eyes burned with a seething hatred. I thought the tears in her eyes were purely from fury, but her next words made me think there was some sadness to them. "How-How could you admit it?" There was a fear in her voice, and the hatred in her eyes was being subsumed by it. "How could you admit that you could rape me?" It was like my admittance of this fact had caused her to start having a minor panic attack.

Wanting to help her stay calm, or at least not panic-stricken, I said, "Kadie, look at me, look me in the eyes and breathe." I breathed in deeply and loudly before exhaling just as loud, hoping she'd copy me. "I know that you don't want to hear it, but I love you, Kadie. I've loved you for the majority of our lives and the past 18 months have been the worst in my life because I lost my best friend all for a stupid school project that I didn't even get a good grade on after having to throw out my original idea and making something else up on the spot. It's the stupidest way to lose someone and only an idiot like myself could pull such a pathetic and pointless display off.

"I've also been in love with you since our Gr. 8 grad trip. I won't disrespect you and lie by saying that I've never wanted to get inside your pants. And in my teenage, hormone-addled mind, when thoughts of simply making love to you were getting to be too routine, I admit that I envisioned some more kinky activities being performed between us. I've lusted after you for so long that I'm sure I've pictured us out performing the Karma Sutra, and roleplaying practically every fantasy in the book. But never, not once in all these years, have I pictured myself forcing myself on you in anyway that my fantasy version of you was not consenting to. One or two girls who got under my skin, but never you.

"I've never wanted to hurt you, Kadie, never. Knowing that I have, and knowing that you think that I would hurt you so viscerally as to beat and rape you...it's more painful than any torture all the demons of Hell could put me through. I'm sorry, Kadie." I didn't try to fight the tears that were brimming at my eyes as I finished talking.

I was slightly surprised that she'd let me talk for so long, but I think my initial and grander objectives were achieved as she seemed to be calmer and my apology was seeming to be heard. I saw the faintest hint of a new set of tears push into her vision. But before they could escape down her face, Kadie closed her eyes and shock her head in a clear attempt to alleviate herself of whatever positive feelings she still had for me. "NO! No you can't be sorry! You-you have to be my rapist! I-I-I can't forget what you did and forgive you! You attacked me! You raped me!"

She repeated these sentiments, if not the exact words, as she tried to glare at me in the hopes that her attempted rage would evaporate her tears. And as she tried to convince herself more than me about my raping her, a lightbulb went off in my head. I don't know why I thought this, I just did; but it did click that last piece of the puzzle into place for me. Maybe it was the half our lives we'd spent together, but I knew something was off about her today. In an attempt to once again calm her down, I launched my own accusation at her.

"You're pregnant."

***

After spending the past 18 years, 6 months and 2 days in prison for a crime I didn't commit but had pled guilty to, I was finally out. My mother, tears streaming down her face, was waiting for me as I walked to her trying to hide the smile I felt pulling at my lips. She practically tackled me once I was within an arm's length of her as she hugged me more aggressively than she'd ever done before. It was a hug I returned in kind. When she finally let me go after about five minutes of holding me tight, she looked me in the eyes with tears clouding hers and said, "I'm so mad at you!"

Smiling I nodded before pulling her tight back to me. Having voluntarily stayed in solitary for the majority of my sentence, touching someone was something I'd missed dearly and it just felt euphoric. "I know," I whispered into her ear. It was how we'd greeted each other ever since I'd been sentenced and confided in her that I was there of my own volition. Though, I'd never reveal the extent of Kadie's and my deal. Pulling away from her, I smiled as I joked, "You can yell at me while I drive us home."

Home wasn't what it once was. My parents had divorced following everything; I was to blame but they both still loved me, despite my father taking me at my word and thinking I was guilty. Mom had moved closer to the prison so that she could visit me every weekend and on holidays; dad and my sister had moved halfway across the country to avoid the shame of everything. It was still an hour drive as I took my time and enjoyed the freedom of the open road.

Mom had gone all out for my return. She had a big 'Welcome Home' sign draped across the entrance way to her tiny house. Since the house was so small, it smelled of the banana bread she'd baked in celebration of my return. And sitting on the dining room table, beside the banana bread, was a bottle of champagne in a (now melted) bucket of ice. Tears once again in her eyes, she said, "I know it's not much, but I hope you like it. My friends Peggy and Trish are going to stop by tomorrow and we'll have a nice dinner, if you're up for it. I bought you some clothes and put them upstairs in your room. Let me know if anything doesn't fit or isn't your style. Don't worry, there's no orange on anything."

The rest of the night was spent just talking. We reminisced about my childhood, she told me about her life after the divorce (profusely denying it being my fault for not defending myself), I told her about my plans to submit the stories I'd written in prison to an editor in the hopes of having one of them get published. As I'd never told her about any of my writings, she was most curious about all the stories. By the time we went to bed, the champagne was finished and only a couple slices of the banana bread were left.

And so, my life started anew, as I sent in my writing to a few publishers, and posting most online just to see how people would react. As part of my parole, I got a job at a grocery store stocking shelves at night; it sucked and didn't pay much but it made me feel better about living with my mother in my mid-30s.

I'd been living there for about eight months when my mom died. Car accident; no one really at fault, unless you count the deer the driver that hit her swerved to avoid. That week sucked about as much as being wrongfully imprisoned had. By the time it was all over, I'd decided to move.

And that's where my story really begins.

I'd just settled into my new apartment in the town Kadie's family had once owned a cottage in. Still depressed by my mom's passing, I'd dragged myself to this bar on the main street of town. It was somewhere between a road house and a saloon, and honestly it was better than its outer appearance gave it credit for. I'd been there for about an hour and was on my third rye and ginger when the door was flung open and slammed shut by this young girl who I'd have barely believed to be 19 if she wasn't wearing the uniform of the Christian college that was in the next town over.

Slapping a 20 onto the bar a stool over from me, she demanded that the bartender make her the strongest drink that they sold. Then she slumped into the stool and started to cry. Confused, but concerned, I slid over to her and asked, "Um, are you alright, miss?" The bartender didn't seem to be that concerned about her and I wondered if this was a regular occurrence for him to not care. As I went to place my hand on her shoulder in a reassuring fashion, he placed her order in front of her and took the 20.

"Leave me alone!" she nearly screamed as she flinched away from my touch. When I saw her face, I nearly had to do a double take, for I would have sworn it was Kadie. The same green eyes, the same facial structure; if her hair had been blonde rather than the deep, mahogany brown she would have looked just like my ex-best friend. Well, almost just like Kadie; the girl's nose was more angular, and she had more freckles across her cheeks than Kadie ever did.

"Sorry," I said, my hands raised defensively. "I just was trying to help." I was making my way back to my seat, when she lifted her head and apologized. "It's ok, it's not like it's any of my business."

"Thank you, for being so understanding," she said to me as she tried to dry the tears from her eyes. "Sorry again, for snapping at you, I just got some bad news and kinda had a fight with my mom. I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you. Let me buy your next round, as an apology." Her smile was kind and it was taking me back to high school so much, I clearly spaced out. Coming back to reality as she waved her hand in front of me, she asked, "Are you ok, mister?"

Shaking my head and adverting my eyes in embarrassment, I said, "Sorry, yes, I'm alright. It's just...you look so much like a friend of mine from high school that I was taking a walk down memory lane." Smiling despite the painful memories, I said, "I just miss her."

"Sorry if I'm a poor substitute," the brunette said. Sliding herself to the stool next to mine she asked, "Can I buy you another round? And we can wallow in our sorrows together?"

I gave her a nod and a smile as I turned my chair more towards her. "So what sort of bad news could bring such a good Christian girl such as yourself to a bar like this and demand the strongest stuff? What were you and your mother fighting about?" I asked.

I knew that I shouldn't have asked such a question right off the bat by the look of sadness in her face. But despite that, she took a quick swig of her drink, making the sour/disgusted look first time drinkers always make at harder liquor and turned to answer me. "It's about my father."

"Don't tell me your mom caught him with his secretary that's barely older than you are," I said, hoping the cliché wouldn't be true and that by my saying it, it would make her more at ease.

I gave a small smile when she smiled and gave a laugh at my successful joke. "No," she said as she turned back towards the bar, her glass back in her hand and just about an inch from her mouth. "He raped her," she said simply before taking another sip and giving another alcohol spasm.

I was thankful for the distraction that her reaction to the alcohol elicited for it made her miss my probably more than startled reaction. I now knew that I'd stumbled upon Kadie's daughter. Luckily, my stumbling to respond to this was a normal reaction to this sort of news. "I-I-I'm sorry to hear that. That can't have been an easy conversation to have. But, if you don't mind me asking, how did this end with you and your mother fighting?"

"I grew up thinking that my father and mother had loved each other and that my father had died before I was born. My mom never really shied away from answering my questions about him. He felt so real, her turmoil at his being gone so true, that I never even thought to Google him. She never lied to me, so why would this be any different?" She took another sip here and seemed to finally have gotten used to the alcohol as she didn't so much as shiver as she swallowed it down. "Should've known that the name was fake; even as a kid I knew that Henry Doodlez was a fake name."

I choked on the gulp of rye and ginger that I'd thrown into my mouth as I heard the name Kadie had told her daughter was her father's name. Coughing to regain my breath, she looked at me with concern. Holding up a finger to tell her to give me a second, I used this time to put a smile on my face. "Sorry," I said as I recovered. "That name's so fake, it made me laugh and swallow at the same time." That's a lie, that'd been my alias or nom de plume since I was 13. I can't believe Kadie actually told her daughter that. "I'm Kyle by the way; just realized that I never mentioned that."