Page 123 of Demo
That’s when I broke.
I let out a scream. A raw, ragged growl that rang in my ears as I pulled at handfuls of my hair. I heaved sobs and wiped the snot from my nose with the sleeve of my hoodie. I pressed my palms into my eyes as the minutes passed, and they swelled up.
“Was this the first time?” I asked, and although I was quiet, I knew Knox could hear me, because without hesitation, he answered.
“Yes.”
“It never happened before?”
“No. Never.”
“Never even before the accident?”
There was a second’s pause, then, “N-no,” but it came out as two syllables, like he couldn’t believe I was asking the question. “Lizzie, no. I swear that was never … No.”
We were quiet for another minute before I started again.
“I went to get a water … I went to get a water, Knox, and you took her to the truck and …” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I couldn’t say the words, or her name.
After a moment, he began, “I said I had to pee, and as I stood up, she said she needed to go, too. There was a line for the ladies’ room she got in as I stepped into the men’s room, and when I came out, she wasn’t in line anymore. I saw her heading out the front door. I followed her and when I caught up to her outside, she said she was going to pop a squat around the side of the building. You know Jen—” he cut himself off from finishing her name, as I blanched at the mere start of it.
“I followed her around the side alley but there were people there—a couple making out, a dude pissing on the wall, someone on their phone. She was hopping from foot to foot saying she really had to go, so I told her to follow me. We went past the parking garage and to the next alley, which was empty, and she squatted down to pee. I stood in front of her, my back to her, to kind of shield her, I guess. Not that that’s important …
“Anyway, she finished, stood, and we started back, but since we were passing the parking garage, she asked if I had any wipes or hand sanitizer in the truck, which I did. It took us a minute to find the truck because it was so dark. When we got to the truck, I unlocked it and she opened the passenger door, popped open the glove box, and found what she needed.”
He was quiet for a minute.
“I was leaning my back against the truck. Just waiting. The door was open, and she was leaning against the seat, standing next to me, waving her hands in the air to dry them. I think it hit us both, the realization the last time we were both in my truck was the night of the accident. I didn’t want to give voice to the thought, but she did. She asked me how often I think about that night. When I didn’t answer she said she thinks about it all the time and could only imagine I do the same. She started saying I need to talk about it, I need to get over my guilt. That it was her fault anyway.
“I told her we should go, and I started to tug her arm to pull her away from the seat so I could shut the door, but she grabbed my face and told me to man up. She said she could see the way you and I were together and if I didn’t get my head straight, I would lose you. And with our faces that close I could see how glassy her eyes were. I don’t know if you realize this, but she was high last night. She’s been high a lot.”
“Have you been? Getting high?” I rushed out.
“No. I haven’t used in years.” There was a pause when I didn’t respond. “Do you believe me?”
I huffed out a laugh. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
I heard Knox let out a heavy breath. “I don’t miss it, Lizzie. You have to believe me. But last night, for just a moment, I wished I had an escape. I was jealous I didn’t. And I knew the high she was feeling and how it makes everything feel …”
It was quiet as he was debating how far he should go. How far I wanted him to go.
“Tell me,” I said, sternly.
“She told me I would lose you, and the thing was … I felt like I should. I’ve felt that way ever since the crash."
Another moment of silence passed as my stomach bottomed out some more. But I needed to know. It’s sick and sadistic and unexplainable, but I had to know everything. “Keep going,” I breathed.
I heard a heavy sigh. “She knew what was going through my head, and I knew what the drugs were doing to her body, and then we were grabbing at each other. Before we … she said I needed a condom, and I knew I had one in the glove compartment from eons ago.”
“And it was that easy for you?” I was crying. “You just thought, ‘Oh, great. I’ve got one!’ and you rolled it on and, what? Bent her over?”
No response.
“Knox?!”
“It was fucking torture, Lizzie!” he cried. “I was sorry before it even happened!”
“Bullshit!” I let out a scary laugh. “How long did it last?”
