Page 114 of Rage

“Kath, do you still have Lockey’s number? I think… I think he might be the only one who can help us right now.”

She looks at me, eyes wide, alarm etched all over that face I love so well. “Lara… What are you planning?”

“I’m planning on not letting him get away with this, Kath. I’m planning on confronting him, and making him pay.”

“Pay for an abortion?” She says it quietly, like the word still frightens her.

“At the very least. I want to talk to Lock anyway, and see if he can get me to meet with this motherfucker. Somehow.”

She shakes her head, disbelief in her tone. “Are you serious right now? You hate him.”

“I don’t hate him. I don’t particularly like him, but that’s because he’s intentionally offensive to me.” I shrug. “He likesyouthough.”

“He only does it because he’s a brat and you bite back.”

“Ugh.” I swear, my eye roll sprains something in my brain. “Why would Ilikehim? Why would anyone when he’s got an ego bigger than the motherfucking city?”

“Ilike him, he’s funny. But he also likes winding people up.”

“Right. That’s what we’re calling it now.” I call it being straight up insulting, but tomato, tom-ah-toh, I guess.

“Well, maybe though. I know that he has connections with people.” She pauses. “Or at least, had them. I don’t honestly know if he still does, but…”

“But you still have his number, right?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I do, and I think he might still be able to help. But Lara… Be careful, okay? I don’t want you getting in trouble.”

I take her face in mine, pressing my lips against hers in a searing kiss. “I promise you, my love. I will be the most careful. Besides, he deserves to pay, doesn’t he?”

“Mmmhmm.” She murmurs her peace against my mouth, satisfied with my response.

My dear, sweet girl; she can’t possibly fathom what I really mean by ‘pay’.

It takes me a couple days to pluck up the courage to actually reach out to our old friend though. And even when I do, I have totake stock of myself for thinking of actually going through with this. I can’t quite believe what I’ve been driven to.

Well, I can, because fuck that rapist piece of shit getting away with what he’s done. Why the hell should he get to walk around scot free when the love of my damn life is spending all her waking hours stressed out, having to make a choice between facing that trauma for the rest of her life or going through the trauma of a termination?

It’s not a fucking choice.

It’ll never be a fucking choice.

He took her fucking choice away.

What difference does it make if it’s between different levels of trauma? Not to mention that she’s got to live with the fucking trauma anyway, that of being raped by some fucking asshole who can’t take “I’m not fucking interested” for an answer.

That thought makesmychoice to press the call button a little easier, because I can’t regret at least trying this option.

So, I’m making the call.

Is it a last resort? Sure, but I’ve run out of ways to do anything further by myself. Besides, as much as I personally think Lockey’s a complete dick, he’s always been an ally in the community. And he is Kath’s friend; the kind of friend who protects what he cares about. Kind of like me, I suppose.

I use her phone to do it though, because I’m not stupid enough to think he’d actually answer a call from an unknown number. Because who the fuck does that?

A wave of nausea rolls over me as the dial tone sounds. I half expect it to go to voicemail, but he picks up at last, his voice ringing overly loud through my tangled thoughts. I’m still not sure this is the best course of action, but I guess it’s too late to back out now.

“Hey, babe, long time no speak! How you doing?”

“Hey, Lockey. It’s Lara.”

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