I felt so bad for her as I was writing that scene. Luckily she was able to get out of there before it escalated, but still . . . it's horrifying, and no girl should have to go through that!sarammlover wrote:OMG....that was awful for Maria! Holy crap! Billy was quite bold doing that at school where anyone could have walked in. Poor Maria.
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Part 45
Early that evening, Maria went to bed. But she didn’t go to sleep. She curled up on her side, pulled the covers all the way up to her neck, and just lay there, thinking. She must have had at least three blankets and the bedspread draped over her, but she felt cold.
Around 9:30, a sliver of light shone into the room as Max came in. “Finally got Dylan off the Xbox,” he said, shutting the door.
Dylan . . . She’d barely paid attention to him or Max all night, and she felt bad. “So is he asleep then?” she asked.
“He’s in bed. Don’t know if he’s asleep yet.” Max peeled back the covers and crawled into bed behind her, his clothes still on. Her body tensed as he moved in close and wrapped his arm around her midsection. She knew he wasn’t trying to make her feel uncomfortable, but she felt that way, just because of what had happened today.
He kissed the back of her neck, and then her shoulder, and that was when she felt his hand sliding down her body, trying to slip in between her legs. But she kept them pressed together tightly.
“I don’t really feel like doing anything tonight,” she told him.
“Oh.” Unlike Billy, he didn’t proceed. He pulled his hand back and scooted away from her slightly. “That’s okay.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He got back out of bed and headed out of the room. A minute later, she heard the bathroom shower start to run.
A few tears spilled out of the corners of her eyes, and she wiped them away, determined to not be crying when he came back into the room.
The next day wasn’t much better. Maria managed to get some sleep, but when she woke up, the first thing she thought about was Billy. And that disgusted her.
Max seemed to realize that something wasn’t quite right, but when he asked her about it, she lied and told him, “I think I’m just coming down with what you had at New Year’s.” And he agreed that she looked like she was under the weather.
She didn’t bother fixing her hair or putting on makeup before driving Dylan to school, and once they were there, she didn’t get out of the car to say goodbye to him like she usually did. She just sat in the front seat while he got himself out of his car seat and grabbed is backpack and lunchbox. “Bye, Mom!” he exclaimed, shutting the car door.
“Bye, honey,” she whispered, watching him run into the school building. He was excited for whatever the day had in store for him. She wished she felt that way, too.
Around 11:00, she remembered that today was supposed to be her first solo shift at the front desk of one of the dorms. But there was just no way she could sit there and get anything done, so she called Brody, did a few fake coughs, and told him that she was getting sick. He promised her he’d find a replacement.
So that left her on her own at home for the entire afternoon. She laid on the couch and watched TV all day, not really paying much attention to what was on. Max brought Dylan home from school that day, and the two of them immediately gravitated back to the Xbox.
Maria got in the shower that night, starting to feel worried about tomorrow. Today had been . . . morose. But easy. Tomorrow, though, she had class again. And Billy would be there. How was she supposed to walk back into that room? She didn’t think she could even look at him without feeling . . .
She shuddered, even though the water falling all over her was warm. As if this whole thing wasn’t bad enough on its own, it brought back other memories, things she’d tried to repress over the years.
“I’ve never done this before.”
“First time for everything.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push that image of that man out of her head. James Winston. She hadn’t seen him since, but she’d never forget that day.
“I don’t think I can.”
“Relax. You don’t have to sleep with me.”
She squirmed, wishing she could just jump out of her own skin for a minute and not remember what it had felt like to watch him unzip his jeans.
“I just wanna see what you can do.”
“God!” she screamed, slamming her fist against the wall of the shower. She didn’t want Max to hear her and get worried, so when she cried, she made sure to do it quietly. She kept the water running and sank down, sitting in the bathtub, curling her knees up to her chest as the unwanted memory of that creep’s cock in her mouth mixed together with the feeling of Billy’s hand between her legs.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Oh god. With every step forward, Maria thought the same thing. Oh god, oh god, oh god.
The closer she got to the auditorium, the harder it became for her to breathe. Other people walked past her quickly, and she just barely managed to put one foot in front of the other. She pulled the sleeves of Michael’s sweatshirt down over her wrists and held onto them tightly as she neared the door.
When she got close enough, she stopped. Whenever somebody walked in, she caught a glimpse of the room inside. And Billy was there. Right up at the front of the classroom like he always was, getting things prepped for the professor’s lecture that day. He looked . . . completely normal. Not worried. Not scared. Not the slightest bit remorseful.
“Hey.”
She gasped and jumped when Michael came up behind her. “Oh, Michael,” she said. “You scared me.” Her heart was racing now, but knowing that it was just him actually helped calm her a little bit.
“Got my paper done,” he proclaimed, smirking. “It’s good.”
She tried to smile, but . . . she just couldn’t really do it.
“Are you goin’ in,” he asked, “or are we just gonna stand out here all day?”
The door opened and closed again as another student walked in, and she caught sight of Billy again. I can’t go in there, she thought. There’s no way.
“Maria?” There was a noticeable trace of concern in Michael’s voice when he asked, “You okay?”
No, she thought. I’m not.
Wordlessly, she grabbed his arm and pulled him back down the hallway to the smaller classroom that was always unlocked. Together, they went in, and she kept the lights off and shut the door.
“What’s wrong?” he questioned.
She looked around the room helplessly, feeling like, if she said even one word about this to him, she’d just break down.
“Maria.” He got right in front of her and said, “Look at me. Look at me.” He held her face with one hand, her arm with the other, his eyes locked onto hers. “What’s going on?”
Having his hands on her . . . it didn’t make her feel uneasy. It made her feel safe. Protected. “Michael?” she whimpered.
“Maria, you’re scarin’ me. Talk to me, please.”
She gulped nervously, not sure what to say. “I don’t wanna go in there.”
“Why not?” he asked, slowly lowering his hand from her face. “What happened?” He kept both hands on her arms, though, and for that much, she was grateful.
It was too late to backtrack now. She couldn’t dismiss this as nothing. He knew her too well, he’d see right through it. “The other day, when I stayed after to work with Billy . . .” She trailed off, cringing as she said his name.
His grip on her arms tightened momentarily. “Did he do something to you?” And then, as if he were worried he was holding onto her too hard, he let go of her altogether and asked, “Maria, did he hurt you?”
She wrapped her arms around herself, grimacing. “He started coming on to me,” she told him, barely talking loudly enough for her even herself to hear. “I didn’t think it was a big deal at first, but then he tried to kiss me, and I told him told him to stop, but he kept trying.”
Immediately, Michael got this horrified look on his face, like he felt sick to his stomach.
“And he was, like, trying to touch me. He . . .” She stopped and shuddered. “He put his hand between my legs.”
“Oh my god, Maria.”
“But I pushed him away fast, and I just ran out of there.”
“So you got away?” he asked, his voice wavering with emotion.
“Yeah, I got away.” She shivered, thankful that it hadn’t been worse than it was. “I don’t know what his intentions were or what it would have amounted to . . .”
“It doesn’t matter,” Michael cut in.
“It was just . . . uncomfortable.”
“Well, yeah, ‘cause he was forcing himself on you, Maria.” Both his hands clenched into fists, and he shook his head angrily, growling, “That son of a bitch.”
“I just needed to tell someone,” she squeaked out. She hadn’t known it would be him. Although . . . maybe she should have. She was wearing his sweatshirt, after all, like it was her shield of armour.
“You haven’t told anyone else?” he said incredulously.
“No.”
“Not even Max?”
She shook her head, blinking back tears. “I don’t want him to know.”
“But you have to tell someone,” Michael said. “He can’t just get away with this.”
“I know, but I don’t want it to blow up and become this big thing.” She just wanted it to be over.
“It is a big thing, Maria. What he did was wrong. Nobody should ever do that to you.”
“It just . . . it just made me remember . . .” She trailed off, whimpering, knowing it wasn’t necessary to say more for him to understand.
“Come here, come here,” he said, pulling her back into his arms. He hugged her tightly, and she put her hands on her chest, resting her head against him as the tears began to fall instantly. She just couldn’t hold them in anymore. Her eyes were like a dam that had burst, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“Shh,” he soothed, stroking her hair.
“Michael . . .” For the first time in two days, she felt safe and warm and comfortable. She didn’t want to leave that room. She didn’t want to let go of him.
“I’m gonna take care of this for you,” he whispered against her hair. “Okay?”
“No, you don’t—you don’t have to do anything,” she said, pulling back just enough so that she could look up at him.
“Are you kidding? Of course I do,” he persisted. “I’m not gonna let anyone make you feel this way, ever.”
This hadn’t been her intention, though, to get him wrapped up in this, to get him so involved. This was her problem to deal with, not his.
“Maybe he would’ve stopped,” she speculated, worried that she was already making a bigger deal out of this than it needed to be.
“No, no, don’t do that,” Michael said. “Don’t give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“Maybe I did something or said something to lead him on.”
“No, Maria, listen to me.” He grabbed hold of her shoulders and gently shook her, as if to shake some sense into her. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
As much as she knew that . . . she still wondered if she could have prevented it in any way. Maybe if she hadn’t allowed Billy to get her side-tracked and start talking about singing . . . maybe she’d been too friendly to him.
“Go home,” Michael told her suddenly. “I’ll handle this.”
“What’re you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna confront him, put some fear in him, get him to step down from being a TA.”
She nodded dazedly, liking the sound of that. As long as she didn’t have to sit in that classroom for another semester with him in it, then she would be fine. “He thinks you’re my boyfriend,” she made sure to tell Michael.
“That’s fine. Let him think that.”
She sighed shakily, feeling . . . useless. Pathetic. But as much as she hated being the damsel in distress, there was something comforting about the thought of being taken care of for a change, and being taken care of by Michael especially.
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay. Go home. I’ll stop by later.”
“I can wait here for you--” she started to offer.
“Maria.” He stared at her for a few long, drawn-out seconds. That look in his eyes . . . he looked like he was about to get choked up about everything himself. “Go.”
I don’t wanna leave you, was all she could think. I don’t wanna leave.
Eventually, they walked out of the classroom, though. He held her hand. But then he had to go left, and she had to go right, so their hold loosened. Ever so slowly, her hand fell from his, and he turned his back to her and headed towards the classroom. And even though it had taken every ounce of strength and determination in her body to get there in the first place, now it took every ounce to leave.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Class had already started. Michael didn’t give a fuck. His eyes locked onto Billy the moment he entered the room. He prowled down the back row, taking his usual seat, but it didn’t feel right without Maria sitting next to him.
He plucked at his shirt, noticing that it was still damp. From her tears.
Oh, Maria . . .
He paid no attention to whatever they were discussing. All he could think about was one thing. And all he could feel was one thing.
Rage.
That bastard didn’t even look back at him. He made jokes with the professor that everyone else in the classroom laughed at. But Michael just kept glaring at him, hating him.
What the hell made him think he could do that to a girl? And not just any girl, but Maria.
He didn’t want to picture it, but his mind went there, imagining what it must have been like for her. How afraid she must have been. It made his blood feel like it was boiling, and then he started to feel something else, too.
Guilt.
If he had just stayed with Maria and waited for her, then none of this would have happened. He could have prevented it just by being there.
The class dragged by, and Michael never started feeling any better. The longer he sat there, the angrier he got, and the guiltier he started to feel. He felt it all swarming around inside of him, churning in the pit of his stomach, rising up like lava.
As if this whole thing wasn’t bad enough, it had brought back memories of the past for her, too. He knew exactly what that past was, because he was the only one she’d ever told. He didn’t want to think about it, either, but now that this had happened . . . it all just came flooding back.
He remembered seeing her and Dylan walking down the sidewalk at night, both of them tired. Confused. He remembered driving her to his house and telling her to come inside, not knowing what was wrong with her, but still knowing that something was wrong.
“I feel . . . disgusting. And ashamed.”
It still made his skin crawl to think back on that conversation, the one where she’d told him about what she’d done to James Winston. And why she’d done it.
“Can you believe it? I gave him head and he gave me a hundred bucks. Like I’m just a whore.”
He winced.
“You’re not a whore.”
“I exchanged sexual favors for money. That’s pretty much the definition of a whore.”
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that stuff like this happened to her. She was a good person; she didn’t deserve any of it.
The saddest part was . . . he’d been too late to save her from the experience back then. And he was too late this time, too. If he could have, he would have gone back in time and done anything to stop it from happening. But since he couldn’t, he was going to have to settle for defending her now. Better late than fucking never.
At last, the class ended, and people got up and started to leave. But Michael stayed seated, biding his time. He waited until most everyone was gone, then got up and stalked to the front of the classroom before Billy could leave with them. “Hey!” he called. “I wanna talk to you.”
That instant look of alarm in Billy’s eyes was obvious. “About what?”
“What do you think? My paper,” Michael lied easily.
“Oh.” Billy’s whole body visibly relaxed. “Of course.”
Of course. Michael smirked inwardly. This motherfucker wasn’t going to know what hit him.
“Do you have a copy of it?” Billy asked.
“Not with me.” He watched as the last few students walked out the door, and the professor waved at Billy as he went out behind them.
Billy waved back and then returned his attention to Michael. “Uh, I don’t know how much help I’ll be then,” he said. “You could email it to me.”
“Yeah, I could do that,” he mumbled, looking around once more to make sure it was only the two of them left in there now.
“Is that all then?” Billy asked. “ ‘cause I got somewhere I need to be.”
“No,” Michael said. “No, you don’t.”
Billy gave him a curious look, as if he were trying to decipher what was going on here. As if he didn’t already know. This bastard was just playing dumb, delaying the inevitable.
“I know what you did to Maria,” Michael blurted. “She told me.”
“Maria?” Billy echoed. Pretending like he didn’t know her, he said, “Oh, she’s your girlfriend, right? The one who sits back there with you?”
Michael didn’t say anything.
Unbelievably, Billy had the audacity to laugh. “What did I do to her?”
“Don’t even fuckin’ try to deny it,” Michael warned. He was teetering dangerously close to the edge of violence, and it was taking all of his self-restraint not to just slam this guy’s face onto the floor.
“I don’t know what I did,” Billy insisted. “Honest.”
“Oh, you sick son of a bitch,” Michael grumbled. “She told me. You tried to force yourself on her!”
“What?” Billy shrieked. “Is that—is that what she told you? No way. I’d never do that.”
“I swear to God, if you don’t fucking admit it . . .”
“Admit what? Am I into her? Yeah. I think she’s a really hot girl. And when she was here the other day, we just started talkin’ about music and shit, and . . . I don’t know, I thought there was a connection. So I went for it; I tried to kiss her. But she didn’t reciprocate, so then I backed off.”
“Oh, you backed off, huh?” Michael said. “Yeah, like hell you backed off!” He took a few steps forward, and Billy took a few back, as if he were intimidated. “You didn’t fucking back off and you know it! You put your hands on her!”
“I’m not some rapist, alright? Don’t stand here and make me out to be some predator.”
“That’s what you are!” Michael roared.
“No, I didn’t do anything wrong,” Billy insisted, sticking to his story. “Maybe she’s just tellin’ you a different version ‘cause she’s embarrassed.”
“Or maybe she was too scared to even walk in here today ‘cause of what you did to her,” Michael accused. “I’m not gonna let you get away with this. You can’t do that to her and just act like you didn’t do anything.”
“So what do you want from me, huh?” Billy spat. “You want me to apologize for somethin’ I didn’t even do?”
“No, I want you to step down as TA, and leave Maria the hell alone,” Michael demanded.
“And what if I don’t?” Billy challenged. “What if I don’t step down?”
“Then I’ll make you step down.”
“Ooh.” Billy laughed, a false bravado. “Look at you, tough guy. Aren’t you her knight in shining armor?”
“That’s right.” He’d always be that for her, whenever she needed him to be.
“Well, I’m not steppin’ down,” Billy told him decidedly. “I wanna teach this damn class someday. This is good experience for me. So I’m here to stay.”
No, you’re not, Michael thought. If talk wasn’t working . . . there were other ways to get this creep to agree. He hadn’t wanted to resort to them, but if he had to . . . “You motherfucking bastard.”
“I’m not throwin’ my opportunities away just ‘cause some bitch is draggin’ my name through the mud.”
“What’d you call her?” Michael bellowed.
“You heard me.”
Michael moved even closer, feeling the anger rising, threatening to explode. “Go to hell, Billy,” he ground out.
“Save me a seat,” Billy retorted. “And while you’re at it, maybe you should save another seat for your little whore.”
That did it. Michael swung and hit Billy in the face so hard that it sent him stumbling backward, and immediately blood started pouring from his nose. Giving him no time to recover, Michael grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him back against the white board, pressing his forearm hard against his throat to keep him pinned there.
“If you ever call her that again, I’ll fucking kill you,” he threatened, fuming. He socked Billy one more time, this time in the stomach, eliciting a strangled, pained cry, and then slammed him back against the board again. He cried out as his head hit.
Michael took a few steps back, getting control of himself, and looked down at his right hand. His knuckles were red, and one them was scraped and bleeding.
Hobbled over, Billy glowered at him and vowed, “You’re gonna pay for this.”
The reality of the situation suddenly dawned on Michael, hit him like a grenade. This guy had a bloody nose because of him, maybe even a concussion or broken ribs. He hadn’t hit him much, but he’d sure as hell hit him hard. He hadn’t done anything like this in a long, long time.
But he’d do it again.
“You hear me?” Billy kept challenging. “You’re gonna pay.”
Oh, shit, he thought. What if this did come back to bite him in the ass? He could have just majorly screwed up everything for himself now.
Didn’t fucking matter, though. Not when Maria was involved.
Even though he wanted to give in to impulse and just wail on the guy, he forced himself to turn and walk away. He’d gotten his point across. Hadn’t he?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael reassured himself on the drive over to Maria’s house that Billy’s threat was meaningless. You’re gonna pay for that? Yeah, right. Billy was a musician, not a fighter, and he didn’t seem like the type of guy who would have meathead friends. No, physically, he had nothing to worry about. He could hold his own against anyone.
But . . . there were other ways to make him pay, too, ways sanctioned by the college. Ways that could fuck him up a lot more than any fist fight could.
Whatever. He dismissed it, determined not to worry. None of that mattered. All that mattered to him right now was making sure Maria was okay.
He knocked on her door, then said, “Maria, it’s me.”
She opened the door a few seconds later, looking relieved to see him. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He stepped inside and asked her right away, “How you doin’?”
“Better,” she replied. “I think.”
She looked better to him. Her eyes weren’t red or puffy, so at least she hadn’t been crying.
“Did you talk to him?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“What’d he say?”
Michael snorted, too pissed off to recount every single thing he’d said. “He denied it.”
“Of course.” She sighed frustratedly. “Well, what’s gonna happen now?”
I have no idea, he thought, but he wanted to give her a more concrete reassurance. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”
“So—so does that mean he’s stepping down as TA?” she sputtered.
No. I don’t know. Maybe. “Yeah.”
Her eyes sparkled with a hopefulness that almost killed him. “Really? Are you sure?”
No. “He’s gonna step down,” Michael promised. If he had to the beat the guy down to get him to agree to it, he’d fucking do it.
“Because that’s all I really want,” she said. “I just want him to step down, and then I never have to see him again, and then the whole thing can just be over.”
“It’s over,” he assured her. Even though it wasn’t, it’d make her feel better to think of it that way.
“So then can I just . . . can I just show up to class tomorrow then?” she asked him. “I mean, if he’s not gonna be there . . .”
Knowing that he might very well still be there, Michael squashed that idea. “Just stay home,” he advised. “You’ve had a rough week. Take the day off. Relax.”
“But I don’t wanna get too far behind.”
“It’s just class, Maria.” Tomorrow, he’d go by himself, and if Billy was there . . . well, he’d up the ante. If two punches didn’t work, then maybe ten would.
“Okay,” she said. “Thank you, Michael.”
He didn’t feel like he deserved her thanks yet.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“Why?” She was the last person on earth who needed to be apologizing.
“I didn’t mean to drag you into this. I should be able to solve my own problems.”
“Hey.” He picked up both of her hands, holding them securely in his own. He knew he was touching her a lot today, probably too much, but she seemed to be comforted by the contact. “Don’t ever feel like you can’t come to me. I’ll be there for you, whenever you need me.”
“What happened?” she asked suddenly, tilting his right hand towards her to get a better look.
Oh, crap, he thought. His hand . . . his knuckles . . . He quickly pulled it away from her. “It’s fine,” he said.
“Michael, what did you do?” she asked, alarmed.
“Nothing.”
She just kept looking at him inquisitively.
“Alright, fine, I hit him a couple times,” he admitted.
“You hit him?”
“Well, what was I supposed to do? If you heard some of the shit he was saying . . .” Just thinking about it made him want to sock the guy again, and do more damage this time.
“Michael, you could get in trouble for this.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Don’t worry about me.”
“But what if he presses charges? People get expelled for this sort of thing, Michael.”
“I’ve been expelled before,” he said nonchalantly.
“Yeah, in high school. This is different.”
He knew that. He knew it was all different, and he knew something like this could really blow up what he had going for him in college. But he wasn’t going to stress out about it. At least not in front of her. “Just don’t worry,” he repeated. “I got it under control.”
“Just don’t do anything impulsive, okay?” she begged. “Don’t hit him again.”
He . . . wasn’t going to make any promises on that.
She gazed at him earnestly and said, “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
“Nothing’s gonna happen,” he reassured her quickly. “Just . . . don’t worry about me.” That was the last thing he wanted her to do.
She sighed heavily, as if she were already worrying.
“Call me if you need anything, alright?” he told her, reaching behind himself for the doorknob.
She nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He didn’t want to go, but he had to. He was scheduled to work today, in about ten minutes, actually. And after that, he was going to have to do something about this hand of his to make sure Sarah didn’t worry, either.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael’s knuckles were full-on bruising in the afternoon. His whole hand hurt. Even though it had just been one punch to the face, it had been a hell of a punch.
He ended up using Sarah’s makeup to conceal the bruising. It was just the right shade, and he was thinking that if he kept his right hand hidden enough that night, she wouldn’t even notice. And once tomorrow rolled around, hopefully the bruising wouldn’t be so bad.
“Michael, are you home?”
He was just finishing up his makeup masterpiece when Sarah walked in the front door. He quickly put her . . . foundation? Was that what it was called? Whatever it was, he set it right back down where it had been on the counter and headed out of the bathroom to go see her. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she said, slipping her shoes off. She veered straight into the kitchen, groaning, “Oh, I’m so hungry. I had to skip lunch today.”
He curled up and stretched out his fingers when she wasn’t looking, carefully inspecting the makeup. Damn, it was fading fast. He was going to have to reapply in an hour. Girls must have had a different technique to make it last on their faces.
“How was your day?” she asked him as she searched through the refrigerator.
“Oh, it was . . .” He honestly didn’t have words to describe what this day had been like for him. He didn’t have to come up with them anyway, because his phone rang on the coffee table.
“Your mom?” she guessed.
He walked over to the table and picked up his phone. No, not his mom. A number he didn’t recognize, but it was local.
Shit, he thought, sensing that this wouldn’t be good. He answered it anyway. “Hello?”
“Michael Guerin?”
He turned away from Sarah so she wouldn’t see him gulp. “Yeah, who is this?” It didn’t sound like Billy, but he still had a bad feeling.
“This is the Dean of Discipline.”
And that would be why. His stomach clenched.
TBC . . .
-April
if you'd like. I mean, these lyrics, you guys . . .