Page 63 of White Room Virgin

The fresh air revived my mood and my circulation got going again. It was damp and wet, so the snow didn’t last long and turned into brown slush on the road. The sky was slate gray and even though it was just after midday, it was darker than it had been in a long time.

Just my kind of weather …

We set off in silence. I thought Steven just wanted to go for a walk, but he headed straight for the nearest bus stop.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

The bus came and Steven had me sit by the window. He probably wanted to make sure I didn’t wander off anywhere. I didn’t understand his intentions for a while. It wasn’t until we approached the cemetery on foot that I realized what this was all about.

That bastard!

We even got off the bus one stop early!

“No,” I said, stubbornly standing still and shaking my head.

“Oh yes,” he objected and took my arm.

I backed away. “Please, Steven. I can’t.”

“You’re coming with me now, or I’ll drag you in there! You’re so weak that it wouldn’t be a problem for me.”

I grimaced, bit my lip, and stared at the old wrought iron gate as if it were the entrance to hell.

“When was the last time you were here?”

I ran my hand nervously over my mouth. “I don’t know … two years ago?”

“So just after the funeral,” Steven concluded. “Then it’s high time you finally got this over with.” He seized my arm again and led me in with an iron grip.

My heart was racing and, despite the icy cold, I started to sweat and could hardly breathe. My body was as stiff as a board. Only my legs did what they needed to do to move me forward.

We crossed half the cemetery until we reached the part where the grave was. I hesitated to walk down the small path, and Steven didn’t push me anymore. My heart was racing. Finally, I took a deep breath, pushed my hands deep into my coat pockets, and strolled with my head down. I knew exactly where his grave was. As if I had walked the narrow path over the stone slabs a hundred times before, the place was burned into my memory. And then I suddenly stood in front of his gravestone for the first time, surrounded by other ones. Two years ago, just after the funeral, there was only a wooden cross. It was a beautiful stone that stood out with its dark grain and unusual shape. When I read his full name, my heart stopped for a few beats, and I turned away. I stood there paralyzed, staring across the graves, while the wind made the leaves on a tree swirl. My face felt numb, and there was this strong pulsation deep inside me. It felt as if the entire world was screaming at me:Get out of here!

“Let’s go,” I said curtly, turning away from the grave.

“Not so fast.” Steven grabbed my arm again. “Say something!”

I squirmed in his grip, but I needed my strength to keep my emotions at bay rather than being able to break away. I turned my back to Steven and tried to collect myself.

“Like what? There’s nothing to say.”

“Say his name.”

“What?”

“Say. His. Name,” he repeated.

I thought he was joking, but Steven was serious. Suddenly, it felt as if an alien force was squeezing my heart like a sponge. “Please, Steven, don’t make me do this.”

“Yes, I will. Tell him!”

Every fiber of my being resisted, and a sinking feeling spread through my stomach. Just standing in front of his grave killed me. With all my strength, I tore myself away from Steven, but he grasped my arm again and held me tight.

“You lay bleeding and half-naked in my yard after the party, damn it!” he hissed. “And all because of him! So say his name, for fuck’s sake!”

I tried unsuccessfully to get away from him until I finally gave up and hung my head. The blood rushed through my body, and my pulse pounded loudly in my skull. I wiped my eyes and winced. The pain that welled up inside me threatened to overwhelm me. But I held myself upright and looked at the name on the dark stone.

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