Until I Break (19 page)

I don’t speak again until she answers. I
wanted us to have time. And quiet. And distance from the world
around us. We have that here. And she has more privacy, walking in
the dark on a lonely stretch of beach, than she would in an office,
in a clinical setting with me sitting across from her, staring at
her as I await answers to her most personal questions.

“I told you before that my mother was an
escort. I don’t know if she ever got paid for sex, but she did
bring men home sometimes. Not every night she worked, but she did
it more often than not. I could always hear them,” she admits
quietly as her mind goes back in time. “Screams and moans and
grunts and growls. I was young and I always wondered what they were
doing, but she made me promise never to come into her room. So I
didn’t. For a long time. But one night when I was nine years old,
her door came open. I don’t know if it wasn’t closed well to begin
with or if someone on the inside opened it. I just know that when I
got up to go to the bathroom, it was open.

“I was curious, of course. What child
wouldn’t be? So when I saw that the door was open, I went to look.
That first time, I was more confused than anything. I saw my mother
tied to the bed, face down, and some guy spanking her while he…did
things to himself.”

Even in the pale moonlight, I can see the
pink stain her cheeks. I find it interesting that a woman who
writes erotic tales about vampires and virgins blushes over the
mention of masturbation. I file it away to ponder later.

When she falls silent, I ask a question to
prompt her to continue. “How was your mother reacting?”

“She looked like she was in pain, but when he
stopped, she told him to spank her harder.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“I was angry. And confused. And torn. I
wanted to say something, to make him stop hurting my mother, but I
knew I’d get in trouble for watching, so I didn’t say
anything.”

“Did you go back to your room?”

She gives a long, tell-tale pause. “No.”

“Why not?”

Samantha shrugs. “Fear. Curiosity. I’m not
sure.”

When she doesn’t go on, I ask another
question. “Was that the only time you saw her?”

“No.”

“Did you like watching her?”

“No!” she says emphatically. “Oh, God! It was
horrible.”

“Then why did you?”

“I didn’t for a long time. I would put a
pillow over my head to drown out the sounds. It wasn’t until I
heard more than just one woman’s voice that I ever went back to her
door at night.”

“And how old were you then?”

“Fifteen.”

“Tell me about it.”

I see her chest rise and fall with her deep
inhalation. “I went because I was afraid for my mother. I didn’t
know what more than one person might do to her. So I crept down the
hall and stood in front of her door. I just listened for a while.
It’s when I started to hear some banging around that I got up the
nerve to twist the door knob and crack the door just a tiny bit. I
did it and then ran back to my room, just in case someone inside
noticed.”

“And did they?”

“No, no one noticed. I’m sure they were far
too busy enjoying themselves.”

“You must’ve gone back.”

“I did. I waited until I was sure no one
would notice and I crept back down the hall and pushed it open just
enough so I could see inside.”

“And what did you see this time?”

“My mother was with another woman and a man
on the bed. Both the woman and the man were doing things to her. To
each other, too. When I was satisfied she wasn’t being hurt, I
started to back away.”

“But you didn’t?”

“No. That’s when I saw the other couple in
the room.”

“And what were they doing?”

“The girl probably wasn’t much older than I
was. She was on her knees with her face on the floor. Her hands
were tied behind her back and he was holding on to them as he
pushed something in and out of her. Hard. And fast. She was moaning
and he was telling her to take it all like a good little girl.”

“Did that scare you?”

Her mouth opens and closes twice before she
speaks. “A little.”

“Why?”

“Well, the two times I’d seen people having
sex were both…unusual and, to a child, almost violent. Painful
looking. So yes, it scared me.”

“Could you not understand that she was
enjoying what he was doing to her?”

“Yes, but I think that was part of the
problem.”

“How so?”

“To a kid’s way of thinking, it looked like
the only way to find pleasure in sex was through violence and
pain.”

“Were these the only times you saw things
like that?”

“No. I watched a few times after that, but
only when I knew there were other people in there, not just my
mother.”

“And were those experiences similar?”

“For the most part. There was some variety to
it, but every night seemed to reinforce the theme of pain equaling
pleasure.”

“Did your mother ever find out that you
watched?”

A long pause. “Yes,” Samantha answers in a
small voice.

“What was that night like?”

She laughs. It's a bitter sound. “I think
it’s safe to say it was one of the worst nights of my life.” She
pauses again, as if to gather strength to relive that night in the
retelling of it. “It was a Tuesday. I’d had a date that night. I
was sixteen and he was my very first boyfriend. He’d taken me to
the movies then dropped me back off at home a little after nine. I
was too excited to sleep, so I was awake when she came in. It was
just after eleven. She and her…guests went straight to her bedroom.
It was probably fifteen or twenty minutes later when I got up to go
to the bathroom. Her door was wide open this time, which was a
first. As I passed, I only saw her and one guy. He looked a little
familiar, but I didn’t really think much of it. I always tried to
look away from Mom when I happened to see her. It was as I was
going back to bed that I saw him sitting in the corner of the
room.”

“Who?” I ask, but she doesn’t hear me.

“I thought at first my eyes were playing
tricks on me, but when I saw Jamie’s letterman’s jacket crumpled on
the floor, I knew it was him. It was Jamie Nunley, my boyfriend.”
There’s a faraway, pained look in her eyes as she stares straight
ahead. She’s lost in the past. “He was sitting in a chair across
from the bed with his pants unzipped, jacking off as he watched one
of his football buddies screw my mom.”

When she doesn’t continue, I give her a few
minutes to collect herself before I ask my next question. “What did
you do?”

“I gasped. I couldn’t help it. I was…stunned.
I tried to cover my mouth, but I wasn’t quite quick enough. Jamie
looked toward the door and smiled. I’m sure that’s who opened it to
begin with. Anyway, I ran back to my room. He followed me. I
thought he’d try to explain it or make up some crazy excuse, but he
didn’t. It’s almost like he wanted me to see. I tried to shut my
door on him, but I couldn’t get it closed fast enough. He pushed it
open and came in. Just walked right into my room like he hadn’t
been doing what he was doing. He was smiling, even. I got mad, of
course. I slapped him. And it felt so good. Until he slapped me
back. From there, the angrier I got, the more it seemed to turn him
on. Finally, he grabbed me and threw me on the bed and started
kissing me. I struggled. Told him over and over to get off me, but
he seemed to like it the more I fought him. He slapped me a few
times. Harder and harder each time. ‘Oh, so that’s how you like it,
huh? Like your mom? You like it rough, baby?’ I was terrified by
then. I reached up and scratched his face. I’d have done anything
to get him off me. But that just made him madder. That’s when he
pinned my arms underneath me so I couldn’t move them, so I couldn’t
fight. I couldn’t even stop him when he reached between my
legs.”

When Samantha stops, I don’t prompt her to
continue. I’m letting her recover as I digest what she’s told me
thus far, what she’s been through and how she must’ve felt when I
took her to the club.

“I started screaming and Mom finally heard.
She came in and made him leave before he could rape me.” Another
bitter laugh. “After he was gone, she went to her room for a long
time. I kept expecting her to come and comfort me, but when she
finally came out, she was furious. The funny thing is: She wasn’t
angry with Jamie. She was angry with me.”

I grit my teeth in anger. I’ve never been
able to understand parents who could stand by and watch their
children be hurt.

“So she didn’t have any sympathy for what
you’d been through?”

“No. She said the whole thing was my fault
for being out of bed when she had visitors. She accused me of doing
something to bring Jamie to my bedroom, to lead him on. She said
that I’d gotten what I deserved for being a cock tease. She said I
should’ve left him with her.”

“So she didn’t see anything wrong with doing
things like that with your boyfriend?”

“No, she just couldn’t understand why I’d be
upset by it.”

When she doesn’t go on, I ask, “And then what
happened?”

“Word got around school pretty fast about
what my mom was into, and what people were saying that I was into.
There were rumors about people paying me and my mom for threesomes
and rumors that she was my pimp. I got…approached a couple of
times. Scared me pretty bad. Once was in the chemistry lab after
school. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Luckily, one of
the teachers happened to come by. She’d already been hearing the
talk. I was a mess by then. She called Social Services. Naturally,
they investigated. When they talked to my mother, she didn’t even
try to deny it. I think she sort of wanted to be rid of me. She
didn’t fight it at all when they took me from her and put me into
foster care.”

There is resignation in her voice. She
must’ve come to terms with her mother’s inability to love her a
long time ago.

“Have she ever attempted to find you since
then?”

“Yes. She spent two years in prison. After
that, I saw her at school twice. Both times, she was across the
street, watching me as I walked to my car. The look she gave me…”
Samantha shivers.

“Do you think she would’ve hurt you?”

“I don’t know, but she sure looked angry.
Maybe she blamed me. I don’t know.”

“Were you afraid?”

She shrugs. “A little, I guess. Enough to
tell my foster parents.”

“What did they do?”

“I don’t know, but I never saw her again
after that.”

“And how do you feel about that now?”

“I feel relieved. I don’t ever want her to
find me.”

“Hence the disguise.”

She nods. “I don’t want her in my life
anymore. Meeting the people that I call my parents was one of the
best things to ever happen to me. They took me in, loved me like I
was their own. Made me part of the family. Gave me a life, helped
me to start over. They even moved us across the county line so I
wouldn’t have to go back to the same school. When I tell people
they saved my life, I’m not really exaggerating. It’s hard to tell
what would’ve become of me had I stayed with my birth mother.”

“How has all this affected your relationships
as an adult?”

Samantha shrugs again, not in flippancy, but
in consternation. “I don’t know. I may have a few trust issues, but
not as many as you’d think coming from a childhood like that. The
Johnsons helped me with that. And Chris.”

“And what about your other relationships?
Intimate ones?”

“I suppose I’ve never been able to truly let
go of what I saw and what happened. Even though I know in my head
that fear and pain don’t have to accompany pleasure with sex,
there’s something inside me that just can’t…move on. It’s not
nearly as much of a problem for me as it is for the men I’ve dated,
though.”

She keeps her eyes tightly focused on her
feet as she walks. She’s embarrassed.

“Why is that?”

“I can only fake something I don’t feel for
so long. Once a relationship turns sexual and the guy realizes he’s
not doing it for me, he takes it personally, like a knock against
his manhood.”

“And that threatens their masculinity, so
they blame you. Is that about it?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I’ve been called frigid
and broken and cold, all sorts of things. They can be very mean and
hurtful. Ugly.”

“And do you see yourself as any of
those?”

“I don’t know what I am.”

I grab Samantha’s hand, pulling her to a
stop. I turn her toward me. “You aren’t broken. And I’m gonna prove
it to you.”

“How?” Although her question is skeptical, I
can see the hope in her eyes. And I know why she was so upset with
me that night at the club. She really wants me to fix her.

“You don’t need to know the details. You just
need to trust me. Trust that I will give you pleasure and never
pain. Let’s start with that, okay?”

She attempts a tiny smile with her nod.
“Okay.”

“For the rest of the weekend, keep an open
mind. Do as I ask without fear that I will do anything to scare you
or to remind you of what you saw in your childhood. Trust that
every time I touch you, I will bring you that much closer to
experiencing pleasure in ways that you’re truly comfortable
with.”

She glances away and I see her pull her lip
between her teeth to gnaw it anxiously. “What about you? How…I
mean, won’t you…”

“Don’t you worry about me. This will be good
for me, too.”

I say that, hoping I sound convincing, hoping
she never finds out that I’m turned on by what she’s most afraid
of.

Samantha isn’t the only broken one.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE- Samantha

I wake to an empty bed. To Alec’s empty bed.
The sheets on the other side are smooth and untouched. I don’t know
where he slept last night, but it wasn’t with me.