Page 24 of Mine to Ruin

“Say thank you, while I still have a fucking ounce of decency in my body…”

“What if I don’t?”

Half of his face grazes mine, and he whispers, his voice laced with sinful promise. “Continue like this, and you’ll find out sooner than later.”

“Do you see me running away?” I ask, tipping my chin up. My boldness rising.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he says, and I blink at his retreating back.

No, it’s impossible. I shake my head. He can’t know. I don’t say goodbye, instead I hurry to my car and try to shove the memories of the night I walked away from the art industry.

Once I’m home, I take a shower and try to rinse the bad memories away. Especially the unwanted lips and the rough hands. Sleep eludes me thinking about that night I was sexually assaulted by my manager, the man I trusted. I was in shock.

No words would come out, no cries for help as I rush inside the elevator.

Inside, I huddle in a corner my head in my hands, rocking back and forth.

“Here,” a deep voice says and through blurry eyes, I see a tissue dangling in front of my face.

“Thank you.” I take the tissue and blow my nose.

After what just happened, this stranger should have me running for the hills, but alone with him, I feel he is the only one who can protect me from the man I hope lies on the floor and never gets up.

“Did something happen to you?” he asks and I freeze.

All I know is Robert put his hands on me and he wouldn’t stop not until I kneed him in the balls. What if he won’t believe me? What if no one except my family will believe me? It’s my word against Robert’s.

“How old are you?” he asks, worry mixing in his tone.

“Fourteen,” I say, my voice shaking.

“What are you doing here alone?”

“My paintings are in the gallery downstairs.”

“You’ve opened a gallery? You must be good.” There’s admiration in his voice and I don’t want any of it.

My shoulders sag and my head drops. “I can’t paint anymore, I’m going to quit.”

Through eyes swimming in tears, I see him leaning against the wall.

“Do you know what privilege is?” he asks, eyes fixed on the buttons blinking in green with every floor we ascend. “It’s when you can do what you want to do. What will it be, running away or fighting for what you want?”

“I don’t know…”

“You fight.”

Cold seeps through my body, reaching my bones, and my teeth click together. I hug myself when he unbuttons his suit. He puts the jacket over my shoulders and says, “Now, wipe the tears away, and go conquer your demons. Else they will conquer you.”

And then the elevator opens and he is gone, leaving me wondering about the stranger who comforted me in my darkest time while I scramble out to find my parents. That night I painted my masterpiece, Light in Chaos, the most personal painting of a night that spiraled me into darkness, but also gave me a flicker of hope. It also paid for my college.

For four long years, I couldn’t even hold a brush in my fingers without feeling Robert’s ragged breath and fingers on me. But I healed with time, though the memory still hurts. That monster robbed me of something, and made me live in a self-imposed exile. Robert deserves to pay for what he did to me that night; he stole years of doing what I love from me.

My alarm wakes me up, and I crawl out of bed. I comb my hair, letting it flow down my back in waves, put a summer dress on with a matching yellow bandana, and leave the house to seek comfort food. I slide a pair of sunglasses on and drive to my favorite place in the world.

I tilt my head and greet Dan. “You’re always here when I come by.”

“I do it on purpose,” he says, exposing his white teeth, and I offer him a small smile.

---