The silence stretched, and Eugene's lack of response grew more noticeable. It made me acutely aware of the sounds of nature surrounding us: the gentle lapping of water, the chirping of birds, and the whispering breeze. It felt as though I existed alone in the vast outdoors, consumed by a sense of terror. The fear of being left behind gnawed at my heart, along with the dread of returning to solitude. I had embraced my aloneness for years, but now the mere thought of it sends shivers down my spine. But rather than reacting with anger or frustration, Eugene exuded a surprising calmness that caught me off guard.
"You never said you would."
I avoided meeting his eyes, uncertain of his emotional state. I couldn't bear to reveal my vulnerability, afraid he would witness my pathetic facade. However, I knew I had to be fair to Eugene and confront my torment and old scars. I braced myself, prepared to face the storm, as he deserved nothing less than complete honesty.
"My father always wanted a son, but he got me instead. He wasn't disappointed, though, and his love for me remained unwavering, shaping our bond into something unconventional. He treated me like a son, and naturally, I became a tomboy. I learned martial arts alongside him and engaged in various outdoor sports. My father's unorthodox upbringing made me embrace boyish traits wholeheartedly, to the extent that when my little sister April arrived, my mom was adamant that she wouldn't let him raise her like me."
I chuckled, reminiscing about my childhood and the headaches I caused my mom. It wasn't until I turned thirteen that I started growing my hair, finally saying goodbye to the era of boyish cuts. The first time I wore a dress to a family event, my own uncle mistook me for someone else. Interestingly, these transformations also had an unexpected impact on my social life.
"Due to my nature, I never really dated anyone because boys stayed away from me. They didn't want a girl who could beat them up or had calloused hands. However, my roughness fascinated girls, and they saw me as their protector. I don't think I am attracted to girls because, regardless of everything, I didn't feel that kind of connection with them. But I enjoyed being their tough friend."
"I'm not surprised." Eugene's voice resonated with subtle amusement, reverberating in my ears. I shifted my gaze to observe a duck gracefully gliding with its three companions in the crystal-clear water. I paused, my breath catching in my throat, feeling the irregular rhythm of my lungs and the relentless pounding of my heart, mirroring the intensity of my emotions. Apprehension washed over me, silently praying that the brewing turmoil wouldn't trigger a full-blown panic attack. Such an occurrence would surely startle Eugene to the core.
"I was fifteen back then. I worked evening shifts at Burger King during my summer vacation, and I remember it being just another rainy evening as I hurriedly made my way home. I normally avoid dimly lit alleys, but it was getting late, and I promised April I would be back before she returned from daycare. If I had known how much that decision would change my life, I would have never taken it."
Every memory crashed upon me, engulfing my mind like a powerful wave. I swam in an emotional whirlpool, drowning deeper into the abyss of that fateful day, etched in my memory with resolute clarity. While the details slowly faded into oblivion, their significance diminishing over time, the essence of the event remained vivid and unchanged. However, just as despair threatened to consume me entirely, a comforting touch broke through the turmoil, a gentle hand slipping over mine and squeezing it.
"You don't have to do it." Eugene's voice broke through, laden with concern and sadness, and a rush of emotions swept over me. As I gazed into his eyes, I could detect a blend of emotions. It was a poignant moment, and although tears welled up uncontrollably, they weren't solely borne out of sorrow. After all, twelve years had passed, and tears had become woven into the fabric of my everyday life. Despite the weight of the occasion, sharing my past life with Eugene brought an undeniable sense of familiarity and comfort.
"But I want to," I uttered with a slight smile tugging at the corners of my lips, or at least that was my attempt. I reassured him, and his warm hand remained clasped around mine. I refocused my attention on the tranquil expanse of the serene lake before us.
"I had my earphones plugged in, drowning out any outside noise, so I didn't hear the approaching footsteps or their shouting. There were three of them, all college students, and high as hell."
Their once-recognizable faces have become hazy now, escaping my conscious recollection. Yet they continue to linger like intangible shadows, haunting the corridors of my mind. It is my unconscious memory that holds the key to unlocking these forgotten parts. In my dreams, they resurface with astonishing clarity, blurring the line between fantasy and reality. Sometimes they are so vivid that upon waking, I find myself in a perplexing state, grappling to distinguish the dream world from the present.
"I tried to defend myself, but the force of the blow striking my head took me by surprise and left me momentarily disoriented. I was obviously overwhelmed by the strength of three imposing men pinning me down, and I found myself utterly helpless, unable to resist or break free. My clothes were torn, and they pinned me down, making me literally immobile. Their assault seemed to stretch on endlessly, each agonizing moment filled with their sadistic enjoyment as they relished torturing me without a shred of remorse."
My heart pounded like a jackhammer inside my chest as anxiety coursed through my veins. I took rapid, shallow breaths, desperately trying to calm the storm raging within me. Thoughts raced through my mind like a wild carousel, each one more terrifying than the last, thinking about what happened next. If I were actually raped, would I have found the strength to recover from that traumatic ordeal? I might have died. But maybe, just maybe, death would have been a less agonizing fate.
"The rain began to gradually subside, and I was falling in and out of consciousness. A woman appeared out of nowhere, and I could hear her anguished cries piercing through the damp air. Her face was blurry, but her voice echoed with unwavering determination. She was shouting at the guys, demanding they stop hurting me, and threatening to call the police."
The police later revealed that she was a 24-year-old woman from Chile, working as a nurse at a hospital. The echoes of her desperate screams still reverberate in my ears, a haunting reminder of her selfless attempt to rescue me.
"They pushed her, hit her, and beat the shit out of her, but she refused to leave. With every blow, she grew more determined and resolute, until it became clear to everyone that she would never abandon me."
In the face of relentless cruelty and unfathomable violence, she stood strong. She was trying to save me. Help me.
"Once they realized that they couldn't scare her off, their attention shifted towards her. I don't think she ever got to make that phone call for help, as they smashed her cellphone on the cement ground. I was only partially conscious, yet I couldn't tear my eyes away from the unfolding scene before me. I saw everything without even being able to make a sound of protest. They weren't exactly raping her; they were too intoxicated to actually carry it out, but the pain they inflicted on her was brutal. After some time, one of them began moving to me, but even amidst her own pain, she held his legs and literally pleaded with them to spare me."
A sob broke free from the depths of my being, resounding through the place. Every inch of me quivered uncontrollably, as if in defiance of the haunting images that played in my mind. It was the woman's pleading, as terrifying as the echoes of a forgotten melody, that pinged at my conscience like a persistent guilt trip. The weight of her sacrifice settled upon me, etching lines of remorse upon my soul. How much I longed then to erase the anguish spread across her face—my agony mirroring her pain, binding us in a sorrowful embrace.
"I was completely paralyzed by fear and pain when the assailants subjected her to another brutal attack. I could only stare at everything weakly as they not only physically assaulted her by spitting on her but also cut her hair with a shard of glass and violated her with foreign objects. I was unable to shed a tear or even lift a finger to intervene. I am not sure exactly when she ceased to breathe, but throughout the ordeal, her gaze never wavered from mine. It was as if we shared a profound connection amidst the struggle. Through her eyes, she managed to provide me with solace and reassurance, even though we were complete strangers to each other."
Eugene's strong hand enveloped my shivering shoulder. I could feel an indescribable comfort wash over me. It was as though his mere touch possessed the power to lift the weight of the world from my frame. And while he gently swayed me back and forth, the tears flowed freely, unabated, as if released by a floodgate of emotions. The image of her hazel eyes, hauntingly beautiful and filled with a myriad of untold stories, seemed etched into the depths of my very spirit, refusing to loosen their grip on my heart. It was a poignant reminder that some memories, no matter how hard we try, can never be erased and are forever ingrained in the fabric of our existence.
"I completely passed out after a certain point of time, only to regain consciousness three days later. I sustained a head injury, resulting in a deep gash, leading to significant blood loss. Against all odds, I managed to survive, largely due to sheer luck. After waking up, my primary concern was to gather information about the woman involved in the incident. Unfortunately, I already knew that she had succumbed to her injuries. The individuals responsible for the assault were apprehended. Actually, they surrendered themselves as a consequence of their overwhelming guilt. It took me well over a year to fully recuperate from my traumas. Despite this setback, I persevered and returned to school, albeit finding myself two years behind my friends. Throughout this difficult period, I was incredibly fortunate to have my family and friends. Their constant encouragement and presence by my side played an instrumental role in my recovery, and I sincerely doubt that I would have been able to bounce back without their unwavering support. And then there was April. While she was too young to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation, she was a significant source of comfort and solace during this challenging time."
April never asked me exactly what happened, and we never told her. She was different, unlike anyone else her age. While most youths were obsessing over the latest gossip or mindlessly scrolling through social media, April displayed an uncanny level of maturity that left me astounded. April had a way of grasping the basics, like realizing that something terrible happened to me, but she never delved into the heart of the matter.
"The woman?"
Eugene asked, his fingers moving deftly as he traced gentle circles around my cold hand. There was a comforting sincerity in his touch, as if he understood the depths of my unease and wanted to alleviate it with his own warmth. The way his eyes locked onto mine, filled with genuine concern, revealed a depth of empathy seldom witnessed. In that brief moment, a subtle connection formed between us, silently assuring me that I was not alone in facing the storm ahead.
"Her name was Maria, a woman in her mid-twenties hailing from Chile. She worked as a nurse, and according to the authorities, she had recently undergone an abortion. Unfortunately, she had an abusive partner who subjected her to violence, which was the cause of her miscarriage, but she blamed herself and even attempted to end her own life on multiple occasions. On that day, Maria was returning from a therapy session with her psychiatrist."
I took a deep breath, composing my voice.
"Maybe she was trying to make up for something she thought she did by saving me. She gave up her own life for someone she didn't even know. I was never the same person after that. Every year, I go to her grave and visit her parents in Chile. They never blamed me; they called their daughter a hero. They believe she is happy in heaven, reunited with her daughter. But I can't shake off the guilt."
As the tears streamed down my face, I found solace in Eugene's comforting presence. With each sob that escaped my lips, I buried my troubled face in his chest, seeking refuge from the storm of emotions swirling within me. It was a vulnerability I had never shared so intimately with anyone before, except for my therapist. But as Eugene whispered reassuring words, affirming to me that I was okay and that we were okay, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over me. It was as if, for the first time, I had unburdened myself completely, and I couldn't help but feel a newfound peace settle deep within my soul.
I had no regrets about revealing my past to Eugene. In fact, I welcomed the opportunity to share my darkest stages with him. As he held me, offering no advice or motivations like others often did, I realized that sometimes all we truly need is someone who will simply listen. Eugene's silence was a balm to my wounded heart, a reminder that his deep care spoke volumes louder than any words could. From tenderly wiping away my tears to kissing away my anguish, he enveloped me in a cocoon of determined passion. With each gentle touch and soothing gesture, he showed me that I was not alone and that together we could weather any storm. And as I looked into his eyes, the warmth of his smile mirrored the newfound tranquility that blossomed within me, making me feel truly seen and understood. He was trying to heal me. And I gave in to him. There was an undeniable magnetism in the way he helped mend my broken pieces. For once, I wanted to be the helpless maiden longing to be whisked away by the knight in shining armor, ready to save me from the darkness that consumed me.
.........