Page 66 of The Devil

“You heard,” he mutters angrily, “open your legs.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Get away from me!” I snap, trying hard not to raise my voice for Jess’ sake. I’ve had suspicions that my husband sleeps with other women, but he’s never said it so bluntly before, and certainly not when trying to have sex with me.

“Hold still!” he shouts, trying to force my legs to open. When he looks at me, I know he’s not in his right mind; not that his right mind is much better, but now he’s high on something, and that can only spell bad news for me. He fumbles at his fly before ripping his pants and boxers off. I ready myself for him and as soon as he comes at me, I try to kick him off, shoving him with my hands.

“No! No!” I scream angrily at him. “I don’t want your diseased cock anywhere near me! You don’t get to come at me after you’ve been inside someone else tonight. Fuck off!”

A slap and a knee to my ribs have me clutching my stomach in pain, giving him a momentary weakness that he uses to his advantage. His hand pins mine above my head, while the other rips at my clothes. As he rapes me, as is his right according to him, I don’t cry, I don’t show any emotion, I just stare back at him with utter contempt. As soon as he finishes, which thankfully, is not long at all, I push him roughly onto the floor where he writhes around with his semi-hard cock flapping all over the place. Only then, do I run to the bathroom to throw up and cry. Most people consider this kind of sexual assault shocking, but it’s just my Friday night.

The next morning, he’s sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for me to cook his breakfast as if all is normal and peaceful in the world. He plays with pop-up toys on Jess’ table, laughing when she jumps with surprise.

As I serve his eggs and bacon, Mom and Dad come into the kitchen with beaming smiles and kisses on the cheek for Jess and me. Dad shakes Evan’s hand proudly while my husband plays the perfect son-in-law.

“Wow, my daughter’s treating you well, I see,” Dad says as he eyes the food sitting in front of Evan.

“That she is,” Evan says as gets up to theatrically spin me around on the spot, then throws us back so he can kiss me. Jess giggles over the show, as does my father, looking very much like the smug, ‘I told you he was the one’ and, ‘Aren’t you glad you listened to me?’ bastard that I’ve come to think of him.

“Hey, darling, why don’t you cook something up for your dad?” Evan suggests, patting my ass before moving back to his place at the table.

Only my mother notices the remains of dinner splashed up against the wall. She peers over at my reflection in the window where I stand cutting up mushrooms to fry. We look at each other in the pane of glass and she knows.

“How was the coq au vin Helena made you last night, Evan?” she asks, her little way of confronting him. “She worked ever so hard on it. She knows your mother thinks she should make more of an effort.”

“The coq au vin?” He frowns; he doesn’t even remember the dinner I spent hours over, the same dinner he had thrown against the wall. “Oh yeah, the coq au vin! It was delicious, thank you. My mother needs to learn to keep her opinions to herself; right, babe?”

I feel his eyes on me, telling me I better play along or they’ll be a matching cracked rib to the one he gave me last night.

“Mmhmm,” is about all I can muster for him.

“She’s trying, aren’t you, sweetheart?” My father pipes in. “And the garden looks amazing!”

“Helena, sweetheart, do you think you could show me that dress you were telling me about?” This is Mom’s code for ‘I want to know exactly what happened’. “I think it will be perfect for my dinner with the Johnsons.”

I nod at the same time as I give Dad his plate of food, then kiss Jess on the head before I take Mom upstairs.

As soon as we’re in the bedroom, alone, she looks at me with an expression only a mother can give their child when they know something awful has happened to them. Unfortunately, this is only one awful thing of many, so we no longer dance around the issue.

“Show me,” she whispers.

I pull up my shirt to reveal an angry red and purple bruise where he kneed me in the ribs last night. She looks away with her eyes closed and her hand clasped to her mouth. When she eventually regains her composure, she turns back to ask, “And did he?” To which I nod once. She cries because she can never get used to the things I admit to her.

Present

Helena

Back in the here and now, still huddled on my brother’s lap, I listen as he tries to explain himself. My mind is still on that awful night, the same one that likes to enter my nightmares every now and then, when I’m feeling down, weak, and like I’ve failed everyone, including myself. Perhaps I should have let my mother intervene and tell someone, but Evan had convinced me that if I told a single soul, he would take Jess and I would never see her again. My mother, on the other hand, had both of us to lose, and she also didn’t want to risk me not having anyone to turn to.

“He didn’t tell her he was married until afterward,” Nate continues to explain. “With all the other stuff that she was going through at home, I guess it kind of tipped her over the edge.”

I begin to cry, though I’m not entirely sure why, for there are too many reasons to pinpoint the exact one. Is it for Bea? For me? For the incredible guilt that I now feel for letting Evan get away with his abuse, just so he could attack Lily and get at girls when they’re at their most vulnerable? Or is it for my poor daughter who has a monster for a father?

“Hey, hey, Hels,” Nate tries to soothe me, “please don’t cry, she didn’t know…I mean, he’s just bad-”

“I’m so sorry, Nate,” I whimper, “I didn’t know he did that. Please don’t hate me.”

“Why would I hate you? Oh, Helena.” He pulls me in tightly and gives me a moment to let me have my little breakdown on his lap. “God, I’m not equipped to deal with all you emotional women.”

He laughs softly and the sound of his boyish laughter clears my conscience to a certain degree, enough to let me laugh with him, if only for a bit.

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