Page 104 of Dirty Dix

Madison shakes her head violently.

I knew she would respond this way, but now that I’ve broached the topic, I can’t let it lie. “I promise I won’t psychoanalyze you. I just want to help. You need to talk about whatever happened to you, Madison. It’s eating away at your existence, and before long, it’ll rule who you are.”

“I can’t,” she cries, drawing her knees up toward her to place a barricade between us.

“Yes, you can,” I avow with a nod. “I know you can. The Madison I know is a survivor, a fighter, and I think it’s time you let go of your fear.”

Madison’s lip trembles, and she sniffs back her tears. “I can’t tell you…everything. I’m not ready. But I want to at least try. I want to be honest with you because you’re right; my pastisruling my future.”

“That’s okay. You tell me what you can. That’s the first step, which is always the hardest,” I say with a small smile.

Madison takes a deep breath and nods. “My dad left us when I was five. It was only me, my mother, and my brother, Dylan. My father was the breadwinner, so when he left us, my mother was forced to work two jobs to support my brother and me. She was never home, but it was no fault of hers. She was trying her best. My brother was nine, and well, he saw himself to be the man of the house. When Mom was at work, Dylan would look after me. I really looked up to him. I mean, he was my hero.”

Her use of past tense paints a picture of feelings she no longer feels. But I remain silent, allowing her to continue.

“I started developing early, much earlier than my friends. By the time I was ten, I had boobs as big as kids in the ninth grade. I guess I forgot my brother was a fourteen-year-old kid with raging hormones. I also forgot he had fourteen-year-old friends with raging hormones,” she adds. “I was never shy around Dylan and never thought twice about walking around in just a towel after I showered. But why would I? I had been doing so since I was a kid. I was naïve.

“One night, Dylan had his friends over, and they were causing a commotion in his room. So I spied on them and caught them drooling over a booby blonde in a dirty magazine. I didn’t really understand what they were so excited about, but I knew if Dylan caught me spying, he would be mad. I quickly went to my room and got ready for bed, and that’s when Dylan came to tuck me in.”

She pauses and lowers her eyes, and I know what she’s about to say is going to tear out my heart.

“I was wearing my favorite Disney Princess nightie, which was two sizes too small, but I didn’t care. I loved that nightie because it made me feel like a princess, and I would fantasize that one day my Prince Charming would find me and sweep me off my feet. Dylan tucked me in, and I remember a look of…arousal,” she whispers, “pass over his face when he accidentally brushed against my breasts. I didn’t think too much of it, but when it happened the next night and the night after that, I knew something…him…touching me was wrong.”

I clench my fists by my sides, and internally count to five before I explode. Madison continues, lost in the past as she recounts her gory tale.

“Stuff…went on for three years, and I…hated it. It would always start the same. He would switch off the light, like the darkness would hide his sins. But it never did. I should have told my mom, but I…oh, God,” she cries, covering her face with her hands.

I can’t stay still a second longer and rush over to her side, scooping her up in my arms. She comes willingly and cries into my neck, her ice-cold body trembling in my embrace.

I don’t want to coo at her and tell her it’ll be all right because I know her story has only just begun. I allow her to cry and don’t push for her to continue as I know tonight’s confession was a big one to make. But she pulls out of my embrace, wiping her tearstained eyes.

“There’s more,” she says, her lower lip wavering.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” I reply, brushing her matted hair off her face.

“I know, but I want to,” she sadly declares, and I nod.

Taking a deep breath, she continues. “I hated my body, and I blamed my mature figure for evoking Dylan’s behavior. The bigger girls at school were teased and ridiculed, and no boys liked them, so I thought if I was like them, then maybe Dylanwould stop liking me too. I gained about fifteen pounds, pigging out on all the greasy foods and desserts I could stomach without being sick.”

The moment she mentions desserts, I now understand why Madison has such a sweet tooth. She used food as a defense mechanism against her incestuous brother. But I have a feeling that was only a short-term solution.

“For a while, it worked. Dylan seemed distracted, and the late-night visits stopped. I thought everything would be okay, and by this stage, Mom had met a wonderful man, and they were engaged to be married. Mom didn’t have to work late nights anymore because Sebastian was filthy rich, and he wanted to provide for us. We moved into Sebastian’s home a few months later, and Sebastian loved us like his own kids. I saw him as my savior because, once he entered the picture, Dylan left me the hell alone.

“However, things changed on the night of Dylan’s eighteenth birthday. We had a party for him at Sebastian’s house. It was a great night, and things were slowly returning to normal. After the celebrations were over, I went to bed and left my door unlocked. I’d got into the habit of locking my door, not that it mattered because Dylan would always find a way in. But that night, I felt safe enough and left my door ajar. I was stupid.”

We’re sitting side by side, and I can’t stop myself as I reach out and brush her cheek. “Go on, but only if you want to.”

Madison leans into my touch and nods.

“I had just fallen asleep but was awoken by a hand covering my mouth. I tried to scream, but I was trapped under the full weight of my drunken…brother. I tried fighting him off, but he was too strong, and after a while, I gave up,” she whispers, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I should have fought harder, but I was just so scared, and I was tired of fighting him. I just wanted him to leave me alone. But that night was different. He was rough,and he wanted…more. His words haunt me till this very day,” she shakily confesses. “All he said to me was, ‘You’ll do this, Sunny. If you love me, you’ll do this.’ Sunny was his nickname for me. He said I was his sunshine, which is ironic, seeing as I always felt nothing but darkness when I was near him.”

I hate to even imagine what she means by “this.” I try my hardest not to crowd her and allow her to finish because I know her tale is one she has never told a soul.

“I just…he raped…it hurt so bad. I should have fought harder,” she repeats, shaking her head, unable to finish.

“Madison, I’m so sorry.” I sigh, rubbing her arm. “This isn’t your fault. It’s yourbrother’s,” I spit, unable to say the word without clenching my teeth.

“It is my fault. I shouldn’t have encouraged him. I should have told my mom. I should have done a lot of things,” she cries, wiping her eyes.

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