Apollo's Rebellion

The cold, harsh wind makes my entire body shiver. I cross my arms across my chest, bringing my jacket in closer, and keep walking against the wind. As the tears roll down my face, I feel it burn my skin. I don’t know where I’m going, all I see is mist. The slosh of my feet on the moist, mossy ground is all I can hear, I keep walking, blindly following my senses. I hear a soft whimpering sound. Is it me? No, it can’t be me. I begin to run towards the sound. Squash, squash, squash, squash my foot snags on a fallen branch and I go crashing to the ground. I feel the damp earth beneath my left cheek, between my fingers, in my hair. The smell of petrichor engulfs my senses. Everything falls silent as the darkness beckons me over. I wearily get up, my legs shaking with every step. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a light. I move towards it, not knowing what it may be. As I draw near, it gets brighter. I emerge out of the woods into an empty street. I stand under a streetlamp and that’s when I notice something, I’m covered in blood.

I don’t recognise the place I’m in. It looks like a small town; the buildings look hundreds of years old. I pull my trench jacket closer to me so my bloodstained skirt doesn’t show. My legs are dirtied with mud and dried blood. I try my best to remember the events that led up to this moment, but it’s as if my mind has gone blank. Crossing the street, I make my way to the only shop that seems open. It’s an antiques store, through the window I can see a middle-aged man doing stock take. The sign says closed, I knock anyway. He looks up a little annoyed, but then he sees something, maybe desperation, in my eyes and his expression softens. He gets up from his chair and opens the door for me.

“I’m sorry,” I croak, “I don’t know what happened.” Fresh tears start to well and I wipe them away with the back of my hand.

“It’s okay. Don’t apologise, come right in,” he says, leading me into the shop. “I’ll lend you my phone and you can use my shower upstairs.”

“I don’t know who to call. I don’t remember any numbers.”

“Okay,” he says sitting me down on a chair. “Do you remember your name?”

“I don’t… Sarah. My name’s Sarah,” I say remembering someone calling me that.

“My name’s Daniel,” he says, “Let’s get you cleaned up, Sarah. Henry!” A man of about twenty appeared from the stairs on the far end of the store a few seconds later.

“Dad,” he says brushing back his dark brown hair.

“Sarah, this is my son, Henry. He’ll take you up to our apartment to freshen up,” Daniel says, “Henry, this is Sarah. Please make sure she has a proper change of clothes.” He nods and gestures for me to follow him up the stairs to the apartment. For some reason a flash of fear passes through me. I feel as if I shouldn’t trust these people or anyone for that matter. However, it quickly dissipates at the thought of a nice warm shower. I nod a “Thank you” to Daniel and follow the brown haired man up the stairs.

The apartment is dimly lit and it takes me awhile to adjust to the light. It is a small, open plan apartment with the kitchen overlooking the lounge. There’s only one small couch and a passageway that seems to lead to a main bedroom. A guest bedroom and, I assume the bathroom.

“The bathroom’s down the hallway to the left,” he says pointing out the door to me. “You can wait in there while I get you a proper change of clothes.” I look up at him and smile a little. These people seem so trustworthy, why was I so cautious about them? I couldn’t remember what had happened to me a few hours prior to waking up in the forest, but I knew it had to be connected to why I was feeling so afraid. I slowly walk into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. Who was this girl? She wasn’t me, I remember having short brown hair, a small nose and grey eyes, but there was something about the way she looked back at me that was utterly devastating. Pulling off the trench coat I notice the bruises on my arms, they look fresh. Where did I get them? I rinse my hands in the sink and wash my face. The blood on my temple has dried up and mixed with the mud, but it doesn’t look too serious. I look again at the bruises on my neck. Why can’t I remember anything? A knock on the bathroom door jolts me back to reality. I open it slightly and out pops Henry’s hand with a pair of pants, a baggy shirt, a new pair of slippers and a clean towel.

“This is all I could find, the slippers have never been used,” he says through the door.

“Thanks, it’s fine,” reply taking the clothes from him. He says a muffled “You’re welcome,” and walks away.

I watch as the water washes away the grainy mud and dried blood from my legs. Beneath all the dirt and gunk there are more fresh bruises. These ones are high up and on the inner part of my thigh. I gently rub the soap all over me and feel relieved that I was finally clean again. In a way, this shower was washing away the fear and shame I was feeling before as if it was allowing me to start a new and begin again. I try to remember something, anything from the night, but I can’t. It’s as if I keep hitting a wall, a big black wall of nothingness. I don’t know how long I stood in the shower lost in my own thoughts, but by the time I am finished completely cleaning myself, the water is lukewarm and my fingers are all wrinkly. Wrapping the towel around my body I look at myself in the mirror again. I look more like myself, but I can still see the terrified girl behind it all. Who had done this to me? Who could have possibly hurt me so much that I would be fearful of trustworthy strangers? I assumed it was a “who” and not “what”, because you only feel this way when someone you trust hurts you. I wring dry my hair and change into the clothes Henry gave me. I roll up my dirty clothes in my trench coat and hold it close to me. It is time to go out. After all, you can’t hide the bathroom forever.

Henry had prepared a sandwich and some tea for me; it was neatly placed on one side of the table with a chair already pulled out for me. Henry was sitting on the other side. He turned around when he heard my footsteps.

“Let me take that for you,” he says grabbing the bundle of clothes from me and getting up.

“No, you don’t have to,” I say.

“It’s okay,” he reply’s holding it in his hands. “We have a washing machine over here and it won’t take long to dry.” He walks over to the kitchen counter next to the fridge and opens the washing machine door. I slowly sit down at the table and tentatively examine the sandwich. It looks like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Harmless, completely and utterly harmless. I take a bite, it is tasty. I take another bite and soon I am finished with it.

“Sorry, we only had peanut butter in the cupboard,” he says sitting down opposite me.

“It’s okay, I was hungry. I would’ve eaten a horse if you offered me it,” I reply.

“Sarah, do you have any idea how you ended up here?” he asks.

“I don’t even know what here is.”

“You’re in beautiful Greendale, population a hundred thousand and two,” he says gravely. I try to laugh, but it sounds more like a whinge. He smiles at me; I could almost see the pity radiating from him.

“Who are you Sarah?” he asks

“I would tell you, but I don’t know myself,” I say. He suddenly notices the bruises on my arms.

“Who did this?” he asks touching my arm lightly. I recoil back and cross my arms over myself in distress.

“I’m sorry.” I start to cry, my whole body shaking. All the emotions I tried to hide away start to resurface. The tears are rolling down my face and blinding my vision. Henry tries to hug me, comfort me, but I just push him away. Eventually I just stop crying and wipe away the tears.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that. It’s just the way you touched me… it brought back a memory. It’s easy for the emotions to come back, it’s the reasoning behind it that I can’t remember,” I say rubbing my eyes.

“I think maybe you should have a rest. You might remember more in the morning.”

He offers me his room, I settle for the couch. I feel as if I was intruding in their home, I didn’t want to take over his room as well. Falling asleep is hard, every creek or rustle unsettles me. My temple starts to burn and I lightly touch the plaster over the cut. I had taken two tablets for it, but it still didn’t work. I was beginning to think that the pain was more mental than physical. I can hear Daniel’s footsteps coming up the stairs in a deep whispered conversation with Henry. I know it’s about me so I turn my head and pretend to sleep. I can hear Henry telling him about what happened in the kitchen earlier.

“We don’t know who she is, dad…I know, but I think she’s been hurt…bruises…on her arms…” I had drift into sleep a bit after that. It’s not a deep sleep; I keep waking up at the sound of the wind. That soon dies down, though and I am able to get a bit of rest. I let my mind go blank and fall asleep.

“I think we’re lost, Jake,” I said as we pulled into another dirt road. The Cure’s In Between Days blurred from the old stereo system. We were coming back from party in the middle of nowhere and Jake had decided to take a “shortcut”.

“Don’t worry, babe. I know where I’m going,” he said tapping the steering wheel with one finger. Sometimes I wondered why I was still with him. He never called me by my name and sometimes he acted as if I wasn’t there, but then when we were alone he’s kind and compassionate. My best friend, Janet, said that I always had a way of scoping out the boys who would break my heart and deliberately going for them. I didn’t believe that, I think I saw the good in Jake and thought that I could show the whole world it. She didn’t approve. So here I was, three months later and still holding on to that last bit of hope. It’s a nice feeling, hope. It is a knowing that there is always something good that can come out of a situation.

“You know, I never trust you when you say that,” I said looking out the window. The sun had already set and I could only see as far as the headlights went. I lost myself in my thoughts as Jake sang along to the radio. I suddenly felt the car come to a halt and looked over at him. He smiled at me and I smiled back.

“Come on, I want to show you something,” he said opening the door and jumping out the car. I jumped out and went to go stand next to him. We were standing on a cliff face overlooking a city. The yellow lights twinkled in the darkness like thousands of fireflies. He pointed over at a bright star at the edge of the horizon.

“It’s beautiful,” I said. A gust of cold wind hit me and I moved closer towards him. He wrapped his arm around me and I placed my head on his shoulder, content with life.

Three Months Earlier

“Hmmm,” I said as all the boys walked past Janet and me. We were sitting at a table in the café around the street from the high school. All the kids go there once they finish classes and we were no exceptions. “How about him.” I pointed to a tall dark haired boy who was joking around with his friends. He wore a black leather jacket and I was pretty sure I had seen a tattoo on his left shoulder blade. There was something about him that made me so drawn to him.

“Jake Mahoney?” Janet said almost spitting out her milkshake. “Sarah, are you crazy? He’s… he’s a… I heard that he just uses girls and he doesn’t care about them.”

“I don’t think so,” I said still looking at him, “I think that beneath all that tough guy prose is a big softy, a hopeless romantic.” Janet nodded her head slowly.

“Trust me, Sarah, that boy is going to break and leave you.” I knew I should have listened to her, but I didn’t. You could say it was to spit her, to prove her wrong or that I actually believed what I meant about him. Whatever the case may be I still don’t know the full reason why I went up to him the next day I gave him my number.

I felt safe in his arms. They were strong arms that could defend you from a bear. His atmosphere was warming and I always felt like I didn’t have to put on a show for him. When I was with him, I could be myself and he could be himself. No acting or pretending involved. I don’t how long we stood there watching the sky for, but it did lead to him pushing me against his silver Toyota. He didn’t push me hard. He sort of just manoeuvred me so my back would be against the window. He was a foot taller than me and so it was quite easy to do something like that. He gently moved a strand of hair from my face and looked deeply into my eyes. I felt as if he was reading my soul like he was looking right through me. He whispered something incoherent and picked up my chin. He slowly moved his lips towards mine and kissed me gently. Then again, this time it was harder and longer. Then his lips moved to my neck and his hands gently reached up my skirt, caressing my bare skin. I placed my hands on his chest and shove him away.

“Jake, what are you doing? I told you I wanted to wait,” I said looking up at him. He defensively spread out his arms, looking at me innocently.

“I was just having some fun, babe,” he said, I could feel his hands on my hips again, “I understand. I’m sorry, you know I wouldn’t hurt you” He kissed me gently again, but his hands continued to move up my shirt. I could feel his cold touch on my warm skin; it sent shivers up my spine.

“Jake,” I said as he kissed my neck again, “Jake, stop…I…” He didn’t stop. He didn’t listen to me. Instead, he opened the car door and vehemently shoved me into the backseat. I tried to open the door on the other side, but he was already on top of me. His hands grabbed a hold of my arms and he pinned me down.

When you’re in traumatising situation your brain sometimes thinks of other things like how the light is reflected off the glass or where you had placed your cell phone. When I was pushed into the car the first thing that came into my line of vision was my trench coat. It wasn’t actually mine, my mum leant it to me for the night. She said that it would go well with my outfit and it would keep me warm and safe. She always cared for me like that; always made sure I had had enough to eat or was comfortable or happy. She could always sense when I was sad and at those times she used always take me on long walks to the park across the road. When I had seen the trench coat I had wondered about what she was doing, if she could sense that I was in trouble and what she would do to help me out of it. I allowed all the memories to flow back.

I started to think about how my mum used to take me on picnics and how we would bring the biggest and brightest flowers home. Those moments were the happiest memories of my life. They were so vivid, so real. While he was hurting me I thought of the bright yellow from the daffodils. While he started to shout abuse at me I thought of the deep red from the rose. While his hands started to move up my skirt and pull at my panty I thought of the purple rebirth of the iris.

I tried to fight back, but it was cramped in the tiny Toyota and I couldn’t move. He kept pushing me down and telling me that I was going to be okay, that if I didn’t struggle so much that it wouldn’t hurt. Tears started to well up in my eyes, I knew what was happening to me, but I couldn’t react. I managed to find a last bit of strength to push him away. He pulled out a knife, placed it against my neck and looked me straight in the eye. The compassion and love had faded from his eyes, now they were just dark holes of evil itself.

“I told you not to struggle, you don’t want to get hurt right?” he said his voice merely a harsh whisper. I shook my head. Where had this man come from? He wasn’t my boyfriend. I had never seen this side of him before.

He continued to kiss my neck, the more he did the harder it become. I could almost feel his fingers denting my skin. I could feel his teeth ripping at my flesh. I just lay there, taking it all in; completely paralysed, unable to do anything. His movements became harder and faster. I watched as he rose above me and started to unzip his pants. This is it, I thought. This could be your only chance of stopping this; you can stop him from hurting you further. My mind raced. What could I do? What could I use? That’s when I felt the iciness of the knife next to my leg. I slowly reached out to it and grabbed it by the handle. I saw it happening before my eyes. Everything sort of moved in slow motion like it was in a dream. I placed the knife, blade up, next to me at an angle. He slowly started to pull down his pants and move back down to kiss me again. He didn't realise it until he felt a sharp pain in his stomach.

“Sarah,” he croaked just before he could collapse on top of me. “Don’t…”

“It’s already been done,” I whispered hoarsely. “It’s already been done.” He was now a lifeless heap on top of me. I could feel his warm blood drenching my clothes like molten lava burning my skin. Slowly sliding out the car, I grabbed my trench coat and pulled it around me.

What have I done? I asked myself. I just killed someone. I blindly tried to find a place to call for help, a public telephone or a car. I can’t hear any traffic and I have no idea where the main road is. I continued to cry and stagger around recklessly looking for help that wasn't coming. Over and over I play it in my head. I start to feel ashamed of myself. If I hadn’t been so forward in the first place, that’s what he kept telling me. I was the one who gave him my number, I was the one sought him out. The bad boy. What have I done? He’s in the car, bleeding to death. It was my fault. All of it, it was my fault. I killed him.

I was kicking and screaming in my sleep. Henry was sitting on the edge of the couch trying to calm me down. I keep kicking him and shouting, even after been fully awake. The tears are gushing down my face now.

“Sarah,” he says holding my shoulders. Pushing him away I start sobbing again.

“Sarah, calm down.”

“Ja-ke,” I say through gasps of breath.

“No, it’s Henry.”

“Jake…Jake hurt…hurt me…he….he…” I tried to say it, “I killed him.” I collapse into Henry’s arms sobbing. “I killed him.” The words ring out in my ears. I killed him.

I wasn't the first girl he tried to rape. He had tried it on other innocent girls. Some were younger than me; some didn't have the courage to fight back. They just let it happen, they just laid there completely paralysed. Every day I think about how brave I was to stand up to him and how much more brave they were to overcome the terrible trauma they experienced. Most of them hadn't told their parents, they had to live with it. Thinking it was their fault, that they were doing something wrong. Even though I don’t like what I did, I’m happy that it allowed all the girls he hurt the peace they deserved. They finally got their tulip in the spring.