Sometimes in the still of the night , I can see her hips moving with certain sadness, his hands pressing down hard on her shoulders slick with sweat. The minutes crawl by as the goosebumps spread over my face. I wanted to be with anyone else in the world now, than watching her get fucked for free. He was not gentle. He broke her in places, under the skin and deep within. I close my eyes but the mascara won't clot the tears that lazily roll down my face. So I bite my lip and try to be brave for her. In this moment, I am all she has. I won't let her down, even though I am breaking. Minutes.
Precious minutes that took so much and gave so little. I feel her squeeze my hand.
I squeeze back. I hold her hand as much as she holds mine - maybe even more. The rapist takes her as hard as he can, devours our sanity in big sweet gulps then leaves us vacant and shattered - the sweet inside - long gone. After what can only be described as the longest ten minutes in the world, I hear finally hear his footsteps pound the concrete stairs on his retreat, echoing out into the street. Is it really happening, those footsteps sound further away than they really are.. This is not a midday movie. This is happening. How would you cope? Will you ?
But it couldn't be happening to us? Rape? No I hasn't. I realize I am in shock. The shutterbug of images jarred in mind, the hurt ensuing heartbreak. He was a policeman. Hey - he is a policeman and he just raped my girlfriend. And no one knew. Just the thin walls and just two wild eyed girls. No one would believe us. That is what he told us. I almost believed him. But then again, I am brave.
I was willing to take a chance. But , WG just wanted him to go. So she let him have his way. She spread her legs and closed her mind. And he took it all anyways.
A warm imprint in the bed and the faint smell of cheap cologne, perhaps merely a wisp of scent peppered the air, yet I will never forget the smell and then , the man as long as I live...
I heard his car lolled past the motel, slow and menacing. If he thought we would call the police - he was mistaken. What could we do? Who would ever help two drug addicted whores. No, he was an enemy - we just could not afford to have. He knew it. I knew it. WG knew it. That is why it happened. Because it could.
His secret, was safe for now, so the car slid down the street , grasping at the shadows, almost willing us to forget what happened. Then, he was gone. Never to be seen again. And I suppose he still goes unpunished. He would still be out there.
As she scooped his unwelcome semen from her resentful vagina and flung it into the shower , she looked into me , like this was the least of the stains, the least of the internal burden. I will never forget that look.
Her green eyes lowered to the ground as she reached for the syringe, to make a new sting that never felt so good. I watched her as she plunged the relief into her elbows, the bluish hues mottling her neck like a cotton scarf then spreading.
"What a fucking -" She slurred then in slow motion her eyeballs spun white, rolling to the heavens above as her legs buckled from beneath and she tilted then tipped straight onto the tiled bathroom floor. So slowly. So beautiful. I was sitting on the bar fridge and I saw her suspend naked in the air , then I heard the force she hit the floor. I heard the sickening thud as she lay slick against the white tiles. My breath caught in my throat, as a moment took to the silence and then a steady bloom of crimson blood flowered behind her head. So much blood. I knew she had contaminated blood, as here it was running hungrily down the grouts of the tiles and seeping into the carpet at my feet. My breath is barreling through me, I can't keep up. I want to help you but my legs are rooted to the spot. But my soul is so very tired that I can hardly breathe. Could this night be any worse. I guess so.
Moments. The blood is making a trickling sound as it patters into the mean grey carpet. I realize the air is dead. She is unconscious. I gasp audibly and the tears are choking any words, I am grasping for towels, I am bewildered. I don't know what to do , as she spasms, flicks of blood flying through the air. Her tounge flaying at the back of her throat , her eyes are alive, her body fighting with alien twists and spurts - fighting to survive. I wrap her head in the towel. That is as close as I can get.
In a move that haunts me today, I move her head and shut the door to the bathroom behind me. If not for the wetness under my feet, that was her blood sticky and warm ,the room looked untouched , like a calm before the storm. Just, there was someone dying in my bathroom. I knew that something was very wrong, behind that door. I could hear her chewing her tounge off.
There was no time to wish.
There was no time to pray.
I am running down this endless road. All I hear is the steady slap of my bare feet on the bitchumen , it hurts but I don't care. I don't even know if I have clothes on, I think it is my nightie. All I hear is my breath. Like contractions. That is how I stopped from cracking. That is how I stopped from fainting. I had to keep breathing. I had to stick with it. If I went down, we all died. No one would find her. I could not let her down. I had to get help.
Just get to the phone. I am running in my blood stained nightie. It is midnight and the town is sleeping. No one was around to help us. I am just pumping my legs..
Just breathing...Heee heeee hoooo. I pass by her boyfriend , he sees the blood spattered over me and my face as white as the nightie , I point to the room.
" Room seventeen ! Ruuuuuuuuun. " I beg him as I continue to run, my hands flinging thought the air. My throat bares acid as my tone implores pain. "
" She needs you. Just go. The Bathroom ...Just go be with her"
And then he is slipping behind me as he runs in the other direction. Kid, you don't know what awaits you behind that door. You have no idea, how much your gonna grow up tonight. I keep running, the dull light of the payphone , a beacon in the distance. I am there.
Gasping and grasping for the telephone I dial emergency.
Finally someone that can save her life. Finally, someone who knows what to do. Help us please nice lady. We are only young girls. One of us is dying.
The operator is asking me how I am. " Please send some help!" I am begging her, even though I don't have to convince her, I don't have to impress her. My friend is dying. "She in not breathing and blood is spurting from her head, plus she is having an epileptic fit. And If I , me me me me me, don't do anything - she will die."
I am trying to stay calm otherwise I fear she won't be able to help me - help her. I try to listen but the shock is starting to wear off and now the panic is rising.The ambulance is dispatched in the background. The operator is trying to calm me.
"Look , I am ok it is not me that needs help - it's her she will die right now." I am insisting. The sobs starting to affect my speech. I can't remember when I started, or when I stopped , crying that night. " Tell me please how to save her life. " More calming words. More moments pass. I am a terrible friend. Only two weeks ago, the WG had left rehabilation. I remember how sickened and jealous I was , that she got better. I wish she never came back for one more party weekend. This was not my kind of farewell party/ I tempted her easily. A job here. A shot there.
A dangerous slippery slope and now.. she was battling for her life.
What kind of friend was I ?
She tells me I have done well, to wrap the head and to give mouth to mouth, until the ambulances arrives. I have done all that I can. I hope.
She tells me to go and wait for the ambulance.
It will be here. When ??? When??? Every moment is a year, every minute is one that is causing brain damage. Soon. That is all she can tell me. Suddenly, I don't want to be on the phone with her. Suddenly, I knew I had to be with her. She is still talking to me, but the reciever is swinging alone, as I run to be with her, for maybe the very last time.
I am waiting on the steps of the motel, her boyfriend with her in that crazy blood spattered bathroom. She is still not breathing. It has been nearly ten minutes. We are almost out of time. Her heart is going. Barely.
I hear him breathing into her - with all he has. I hear his sobbing, his pleading. He is not even seventeen. Her blood is all over him, his face covered in it as he breathes into her mouth, the only respite the lines were tears have washed the blood from his anguished face.
I strain my ears for hope.
You want to hear it.
Many, many times you hear a siren and you think, I wonder if that is for someone I know.
Tonight. I know. And I just want to hear it.
Then. Very faint I hear the wail. It is like a scream. I close my eyes and concentrate on it and tears slide gently down my face.
Come closer. I beckon and it does. The wails begin to fill the night with thier sirensong and soon enough the red lights are flashing over my eyelids and the sirens are so loud now, and then someone is reaching up and wrapping me in a blanket. Finally someone else can take control. I see the men push past me. A blur of hurry and hype. Then I also see the motel owners, cowering at the door as they drag the naked girl onto the floor and save her life. Pure miracles happen.
They are slapping her hands and so many tubes, the whole room goes clinical.
Just sounds of velcro and electronics, no more sobbing , just everyone holding thier breath, all in vain hope that she would stop holding onto hers. Then, a response.
She is alive. Everyone cries. It is , such a sad scene and even though no one saw the rape that night, the picture we painted with this life was in technicolour for all to see. We had been caught out, pushed it to far.
They bandaged WG's head tightly and she was put on a stretcher and bundled into a waiting ambulance. I leaned in to the ambulance and she smiled weakly back at me. We were so sick. We were so tired. We were so over, we needed a new word for over. Goodbye I said , as they shut the doors and her face disappeared forever.
I knew it was time to let her go.
She was a fighter. It was her time to fight the beast.
Maybe it was heroin. Maybe it was her love for me.
But in my pinprick eyes, love and heroin could not be torn apart.
So I never saw her again.
It was the only way , I could save us both.
The next day I was sitting in the park after being evicted from the motel room. I had no home and I guess, nobody. I happened to be crying as I knew I would never see WG again and I had no idea how I would survive without her. A policeman approached me , sensing my distress and just the sight of his uniform , made me burst into tears. Then, out it all came. All of the details. The terrible feelings. Of shame and guilt . It turns out sadly, that the "policeman" that visited us the night before was in fact just some loser with a fake badge and a really good plan. He worked with a partner and targeting junkie whores in particular that had more to loose by "busting" them than letting you have your way with them. The policeman was so nice and understanding. As much as he could be. He would never fully understand how it felt to walk even a day in my shoes. As ironic as it was, we spent a great hour in the park, chatting and trying to understand what my world was coming to then on, I viewed things a little bit differently. He gave me some bus fare and told me to go home to my parents. I thanked him, walked back to the new motel room to begin work and bought a hot dog instead with the money. And boy did it taste good. That would have to do for now.