A brutal betrayal, p.19
A Brutal Betrayal, page 19
He knew there were other ways to turn himself in; he didn’t have to just walk into the local police station and announce he was a rapist, but it felt somehow apropos to do it this way, like it was a movie playing out slowly. He felt like his life was make believe anyway, so why not continue on that path.
It took almost twenty minutes, twenty minutes of waiting and agitation and nerves until he was finally about to speak to the person behind the counter.
“How can I help you?” the gentleman asked.
Declan opened his mouth to speak, but the words were stuck in his throat, lodged there, forming a lump so thick it was hard to swallow.
“Are you all right?” the guy asked.
“I, uh…yes.” He stood straight, finding the strength he needed. “I want to turn myself in.”
“No, he doesn’t.” He heard her voice, but his heart refused to believe what his mind was having a hard time processing. He turned slowly, afraid that once he looked, he’d realize it wasn’t real, she wasn’t real. His eyes met hers. He expected to see hate, betrayal, and disgust, but he only saw pity. He wasn’t sure what she had to pity him for, but that was almost worse than any strong emotion he could have seen written across her features.
“Megan,” he whispered, wondering if she was an apparition, but she nodded in response. “What are you doing here?”
“Stopping you from making a mistake.”
“Sir, what’s going on here?” the guy behind the counter asked, his voice taking on an edge that wasn’t there before.
Declan turned back to him, feeling his backbone stiffen. He needed to do this, now more than ever. Megan could watch her justice right before her very eyes.
“I messed up. And I want to turn myself in-”
“Heartbreak isn’t a crime,” Megan interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. His eyes swung to her, narrowing, not understanding. What game is she playing?
“Megan,” he tried, but she placed a hand on his arm, silencing him. He was too stunned at the contact, his eyes glued to where she touched him to speak. He could feel her smooth skin against his arm, her body heat searing the spot where her hand rested. He barely registered the words she spoke to the other guy.
“I’m his therapist, and we’ve been working through some of his issues, but as you can see, we’ve had a little setback. He thinks he needs to pay for breaking the heart of the girl he loved, but he needs to understand that not everything is black and white, and that’s all right. Sorry for any inconvenience this has caused. I’ll make sure he gets the help he needs.”
He vaguely felt Megan pulling him out of the station, the moment too surreal to understand.
When he finally felt the warm sun beating against his face, he looked at Megan and his initial shock was becoming clouded by anger.
“What the hell are you doing, Meg?” he asked a little too loudly.
“I told you. I’m stopping you from making a mistake.”
“My whole life has been one giant fucking mistake,” he gritted.
“Don’t say that.”
“This, Meg, turning myself in for what I did to you – that’s the only part that wasn’t going to be a mistake. What I did to you, that’s the greatest mistake of my life. I know that nothing I could do or say would ever come close to making it up to you, but this was as good as I could give you. I deserve to be punished. I deserve to give you the justice you need.”
“And what about what I deserve?”
His anger disappeared, extinguished by sorrow, a deep sorrow. “Everything.” He spoke, his voice hoarse from his pain. “You deserve everything.”
He saw the lone tear trickle down her cheek, her eyes never leaving his, piercing him with her gaze, seeing into the very soul he could feel shattering under her watchful gaze.
She licked her lips, mixing the salty tear along with her own taste and nodded briefly as if answering some unspoken question that hung in the air between them.
“Then give me everything, Declan. Give me everything I deserve.”
“I tried,” he replied and started turning back toward the station.
“I don’t want that.”
“What do you want then? I’ll do anything you ask.”
“Let’s go to your place and talk. We’ve created enough of a spectacle here,” she said as she looked around at the people glancing in their direction, trying to watch without gawking at the commotion they were making.
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
Chapter 30
Megan
Coming there had been on a whim, an instinct. Megan had tried Declan’s place, but when it was clear he wasn’t there, she made her way to the nearest police station.
“Please don’t let it be too late,” she whispered to herself, driving way over the speed limit frantically. She had, in fact, almost been too late. She saw his head of hair just over the individuals blocking her way. She pushed past them all just in time to cut him off. She could literally feel her heart jump with relief.
Now, it was time to talk to Declan, to explain things to him, maybe to even explain things to herself. She hadn’t even fully processed the events over the course of the last couple of months. She had been going about each day like a zombie, just going through the motions, waiting for things to pick up, to get better. It had all started with Declan, and it would have to end with him.
She had another ten minutes to drive before she made it to Declan’s place, and they would clear the air. Her mind flashed back to the second most important day of her life.
“Declan?” she asked when he sat posed above her, his body towering, the strength in his posture feeding her own strength. She was trembling inside, afraid the memories that threatened just below the surface would break through and ruin this perfect moment. She needed this. She needed him to keep those memories down, keep them away, and replace them with only love and passion. Declan had always seemed so familiar to her, like she had seen him before but couldn’t put her finger on where exactly, or maybe they knew each other in another life. She liked to think the latter was true; it made their love so romantic somehow. But, in this moment, he was even more so, like her body knew his. That has to be a good thing, right?
Declan hadn’t answered her, but she felt his body shudder before it went rigid. She looked up into his eyes, pulling them away from scanning his body, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking through her. He was somewhere far away, and it was starting to scare her. She was torn between feeling disgusted with herself and worried about him. She was afraid that this was because she was damaged goods and her own body shuddered at that thought. Still, Declan didn’t move. What if something is seriously wrong with him? She was afraid to touch him, but she placed her hand lightly on his chest. He felt clammy, not the sweet slickness of sweat which she imagined would coat his body after they made love, but a dampness to his skin that felt feverish even.
He mumbled, but she couldn’t make out the words. “Declan?” she asked again.
“I’m sorry, they’re watching,” he whispered so low that it took Megan a moment to register the words. There was something about those words, something that sent a chill down the spine of her back, but she didn’t move. “Declan,” she repeated again, a little louder. He turned his face to hers, but his eyes were vacant. He couldn’t see her.
“I’m sorry, they’re watching,” he repeated louder, and she could feel the words reverberate through her very being. She recoiled instinctively, her body curling into a ball and moving away from under Declan, pushing itself to the opposite end of the bed.
“I’m sorry, they’re watching,” he started chanting, and it all came rushing back to her. His voice, the same mumbling that was incoherent at the time; his rough calloused hands pinning her hips against the concrete wall, his hot breath against her ear, and he, himself, pounding inside her, violating her, taking everything from her.
Her body froze, trembling. She looked at Declan but didn’t see him; she only saw a monster, and she was paralyzed with terror.
Finally, he looked at her, really looked at her. He looked bewildered, scared even, but Megan couldn’t think about that. She couldn’t believe it. “No,” she screamed in her mind. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t have been him. She had just portrayed her own fears onto him. That had to be it. It had to be. She couldn’t have fallen in love with that guy. Not that one. Anyone but that one.
“I’m sorry, they’re watching,” Declan whispered again, his voice breaking, his eyes clear as the starry night. It was real. It was all real. A thousand emotions passed through Megan, overwhelming her with the force of everything she was feeling.
“Say it again,” she told him, still denying it was the truth even though she could feel her heart exploding in her own chest, begging to be freed from beating in time.
He obliged, and she couldn’t deny it any longer. The man of her nightmares was the man of her dreams.
“You,” she whispered, the pain apparent in her voice, the cracking like waves against the rocks. “It was you.” She spoke louder, forcing herself to hear the truth her mind was still reeling from. “It was you!” she yelled when it finally sunk in that this man was her abuser; this man was her tormentor; this man was her rapist.
She was frightened, she was angry, she was broken, hurt, upset, and degraded. She was betrayed…in the most brutal of ways. The man who had saved her was the same one who had deceived her. She opened up to the man, to the reason that had caused her to close off initially. Her vision was clouded with rage. She couldn’t comprehend everything she said or how Declan responded. It was like looking at things in a mirror. They were happening, you saw them with your very own eyes, and if you just turned, you’d see it clearer, not in reverse, but she couldn’t turn. She was glued to the image in that mirror, watching as an observer. Only she wasn’t an observer.
She heard him tell her it was because of his initiation into The Crew. The fucking Crew. She was ruined, destroyed, because he wanted to fit in. She looked around the room, trying to find something to throw at him, but he reached her.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” she yelled. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me. Get away.”
Just minutes ago, she craved his touch, begged for it, desired it, even needed it. Now, just the thought repulsed her.
He wanted her to listen to him, but he hadn’t listened to her when she had begged him to stop, to let her go, to stop his torment of her body. He didn’t deserve her to listen to him.
“You’re a fucking monster,” she had screamed, the words echoing in the room, as if she repeated it. It bore repeating. The fact that he could do that to her meant he was a monster. And then this…this making her fall for him. He was a sick, twisted monster.
He dropped to his knees, begging her, but she couldn’t listen, wouldn’t listen. She had trusted him, allowed herself to be vulnerable around him, and he had been playing games with her for years.
“I didn’t know.”
She cringed. A small part of her, deep down, wanted to believe that, was breaking through trying to believe that, but even if it was true, that didn’t make it better, it didn’t make it okay.
He told her he didn’t remember, tried to tell her he was a different person. He wasn’t. He was the same man that stole from her, stole from her very body.
“That was the past,” he pleaded.
He wants to talk about the past? Does he really want to tell her, who is still suffering from the damage he had inflicted on her that it was the past? She slapped him before her mind could register what her heart was telling her to do. She knew her palm would sting, but she felt nothing, no pain. She was starting to close off.
“You, Declan, are my past.” She spoke with finality. She shut down, burying herself somewhere deep inside her conscious. He could continue to speak, but she wouldn’t listen. He told her how sorry he was, but it was a voice so far away that it sounded like she was listening to the radio on low volume. She thought she heard him tell her he loved her, but by then, her body had zoned him out. He was no longer a part of her life. She wanted to forget he existed, wanted to forget what he was to her, what he could have been. She only allowed herself to focus on what he was – her destruction.
*****
The first week after she learned the truth was a blur. She wanted to stay home and curl into a ball, crying her heart out, but she couldn’t go through that again. She wouldn’t go through that again. Megan forced herself to get up and go to work each day. She was a walking zombie, going through the motions, but it was a welcome distraction from her situation. She wanted to talk to someone, needed to, but there was no one. She didn’t want to talk to her parents about this. They had suffered enough beside her through the years. Deep down, though, even if she had someone to pour her heart out to, she didn’t think she would be able to discuss it in the end. This was private, her own failures; she didn’t want to air out her misfortunes more than necessary. She had already made that mistake with Declan, telling him much more than she intended to, and look where that had gotten her.
She held her head high until the visits started. The first time he knocked on her door, she jumped, her skin crawled, as if thousands of ants found their way across her skin. She had been doing such a good job pretending everything was all right after that night, and then he showed up. She thought of what he would say, what he would look like to her now that she knew who he really was. Would his gentle, twinkling eyes look like the devil’s eyes now?
Every feeling she had pushed down suddenly came up, and her body felt like it was ready to explode, ready to let everything out once and for all. She couldn’t let that happen, and in an instant, she felt the bile rush to her throat, and she barely made it to the bathroom.
Then he was there, waiting for her outside of work. Her first instinct was to run, hide, cower with fear, her second was to rage at him, hurt him like he hurt her, and there was a very small third instinct that begged her to run into his arms and forget who he was, forget that he had ruined her. She wanted to remember only the good moments, the man who cherished her, protected her, and loved her. Her first instinct won out, and she turned to walk away.
He wanted her to listen, and a thought popped into her mind. It suddenly made sense why he was chasing her down, tracking her, needing to talk to her. His game, his toying of her was continuing. He was afraid she was going to turn him in. Like anyone would believe me? Even if they did, she couldn’t go through the process. She wouldn’t go through it.
“You’re worried I’ll turn you in?” she sneered. “Don’t worry Declan, I won’t.”
He tried to tell her that he didn’t care what happened to him, only to her. Where were those precious thoughts when I was sixteen? Her anger returned, and she needed him to leave her alone. She pushed him away and when he finally left, she felt empty, alone, even more broken than she had arguing with him just minutes before.
She thought it would have been the last she heard of him, but she always felt eyes watching her, following her moves. She hoped it was him, and she hoped it was her imagination messing with her. Then came the flowers, the notes, the text messages. The first flowers she got, she threw them in the trash and ripped up the note without reading it. He wouldn’t be allowed to torment her or play games with her life any longer. But when the second set came, curiosity won over her hatred.
His words…the sentences they formed, the heartache she felt through the paper, through the simple texts, it was breaking her, fighting her own resolve. She was broken, he had done that to her, and yet, there was something…something inside her that called to him. He seemed almost as broken as she was, and his words to her portrayed a desperate man, a passionate and caring man. A loving man, even, not the evil bastard that raped her years before. She found herself looking forward to the texts he sent, wondering what he would say next, but she would never admit that, even to herself.
It was over a month before she finally came to the resolution that this was what her life was going to be, craving and hating the same man, but only from a distance.
It was a knock so quiet that broke through her latest thoughts. She barely heard it above the chaos reigning in her head. She was scared and exhilarated just thinking it might be Declan. She padded toward the peephole silently, in case she needed to retreat, but when she looked, she gasped. It was the last person she ever expected to see.
Chapter 31
Megan
Megan made her way inside Declan’s place. He had held the door open, motioning for her to enter. The twenty minute drive had seemed like forever as she recalled the events over the last few months. It was only after she stepped inside that she realized neither had said a word, and they were standing on opposite sides of the room.
He was just as handsome, just as beautiful, as she remembered. She took the opportunity to study him. His shoulders were slightly hunched, as if in defeat, his eyes looked weary. He gave off the air of a man who had gone to battle, lost, came home, and lost again. He was looking down, avoiding her gaze, but the way he tensed as her eyes swept over his body, she knew he could feel her staring at him.
She would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t still feel some fear and some resentment toward him. It was there, just under the surface, waiting to break free, waiting to overcome the emotions that had led her to this moment. She was going to let him turn himself in. Good, she had thought. He deserved nothing else, and maybe even more. But even as her mind spoke those words, her heart felt the heavy burden they cast. She didn’t want him to turn himself in; she wanted to go back in time and be happy with him again. She hadn’t been happy for years before she found Declan. She was torn between knowing he was what had forced the unhappiness in the first place and knowing he was also the one to bring it out. She was warring with the image of the man who was so gentle, cautious, sweet, even endearing with her, and the image of the man who had betrayed her. When she tried to see him in her mind’s eye, it was as if he was a hologram, two overlapping pictures. He was man and monster, but ultimately, if you shifted the hologram at just the right angle, you only saw the man. It just hadn’t made sense how he could have been her one true protector in all her years and have been the one she needed the most protection from.
