Security

For those who are interested in Penny's story and who have not yet done so, read my series A Strange Arrangement, the latter half of which tells her tale mostly from Andrew's perspective.

Continued thanks to GaiusPetronius, whose edits were very helpful throughout this series.

*******

I always knew he'd come for me. My prince. He told me today that he's going to take me home soon. It won't be long now. I love him - so handsome and brave. I hope he doesn't hate me. He should hate me. I hurt him, I hurt him so deeply. I lost his treasure.

But he said he loves me and that he'll take care of me. He's never lied to me. Not with his words, at least. But his eyes were so sad. When he said he loved me, his eyes said he didn't

want

to love me. He

has

to love me. I feel bad doing this to him. I hurt him so bad.

*******

They tell me I'm going home soon. Everyone seems happy for me. Even when my prince comes to see me again, he seems to smile in a way that isn't totally forced. He says I'm looking better. What does that mean? Did I look bad?

He tells me stories, stories of faraway places that he once took me to see. Stories from a long time ago. He smiles when he tells those stories, so I ask him to tell me more. I want him to smile that way when he looks at me.

When he gets up to leave this time, I do something I can't remember doing for a long time. I reach out and put my arms around him. He looks scared at first. Do I look so bad? Then he moves towards me and opens his arms.

His embrace is warm and strong. He puts a hand gently on the back of my head. My stomach tingles and I remember other times his arms were wrapped around me, other times his hand cradled my head in that way. Times when we were not standing in a sterile room, like now. Times much more private. Yes, my prince loved me once, and I gave him everything I could.

I want to tell him how happy he makes me. I try to tell him. I open my mouth and I choke. My tears are hot on my cheeks and my throat tightens. I gasp and back up. He looks at me, worried but not frightened. I've ruined it. I've ruined our happy moment. I stagger backwards and fall into the chair. Why am I here? Why can't I go home? I look up at him in despair. I hope he doesn't hate me. He really should.

"Andrew?" I cry. He's standing where I left him, looking sad.

There's still a lot of instability

, the doctor is saying to him.

But a lot of progress, too,

Andrew replies.

Yes, she's much more lucid, but not consistently

, the doctor comments. Is he talking about me? Why won't they talk

to

me? I'm right here!

And you still think she should be at home?

my prince is asking.

It's up to you, but I think she's ready. It might help lead her to the next level.

Andrew steps closer to me and places a kiss on my forehead. I close my eyes and try to take hold of his wrist. But he's not there. The doctor is gone, too. My prince is gone again. Someone leads me by the arm to a room. They give me pills. I rest.

*******

I awake sometime in the morning, and I feel like I'm coming out of a fog. I don't know how long I've been here. I don't even remember much of what has gone on. I feel like I've been trapped in another life, my mind buried just below the surface, unable to really take in what's going on.

But something is different today. It's been changing, I can feel it. I want to talk. For the first time in ages, I feel like I want to have an honest to goodness

conversation

with someone. Oh, I hope Andrew visits today. But Andrew was just here last night, wasn't he? I won't see him today.

A nurse comes in to get me ready for the day.

"When is it?" I ask her, my voice much softer than I had intended it to be.

"What?" she replies, seeming a little startled by the question.

"When is it?" I repeat.

"When is what?"

"Now. When is it... the day... the month... When are we?"

"Oh!" she says, grasping my meaning. "It's Tuesday...August 21

st

."

"Oh," I nod, not really feeling like that answered anything.

My body goes through the motions of the day, but my mind is beginning to really observe it all. I know I have been here for some time. Has it been months? Years? For the first time, I feel... bored. There is a monotony to the routine. No one else seems to mind.

I see a group of doctors and try to answer some questions for them. I try hard, but it's all so murky and confusing. And yet they seem very pleased. They dismiss me and I go to watch TV. I take my pills. I sit. Eventually, I go to bed and sleep.

And again, the monster comes.

*******

He's huge and silent. He only comes when it's dark. He pulls my hair and puts something in my mouth. He makes me do things that hurt and frighten me. I can't ever get away: the monster is too big and strong. But my mind can escape. I try to find a happy thought to cling to. I'm not really there anymore. It's just a body. I'm somewhere else, somewhere sunny and safe.

I gag and cough. He's pulling up his pants and walking out the door. I'm back in one piece now, mind and body back together, crying. I should be used to this by now. It started when Hannah left home. Her eyes had turned cold and distant. We hadn't laughed together in years. After she left, she would send me letters every now and then, but they never said where she was. I understand why.

*******

"Penny, do you know where you are?" The dark woman with the beautiful springy hair is talking to me. Her voice is soft, her smile genuine. There are other people at the table, mostly men in white coats and a few in suits. But the woman is easy to look at. She's holding papers, a clipboard. She has a white coat on, too. Is she a doctor?

"Penny?"

"I'm sorry," I say. "My mind was wandering for a second."

"That's OK. I was asking if you know where you are."

"A hospital... of some kind?" I venture. "I don't think my mind has been working quite right lately."

Some of the men look down and scribble on their own clipboards. They make me nervous. I try to make a joke about it. "I feel a little under-dressed for this group." I force a smile and a nervous chuckle. Surprised glances around the table. One of them mumbles something about "Self-awareness."

"Do you know how long you've been here?" springy-haired woman asks.

"A few months, maybe?" I say hesitantly. "I'm sorry, it's all a little foggy to me. I really only remember the past few days. And then... and then before all this..." My heart begins racing. Panic.

"Do you remember your home?" she asks, her soothing voice tamping down the surge of fear.

Home. Home was... I pictured the house where I was raised. No, home wasn't there. Home was... "Andrew. I remember... Andrew," I say. "Yes, I remember my home."

"Penny, we're wondering if you'd want to try to live back at home for a little bit," she says. I smile at the way her hair bounces. It's just a bit darker than her skin. A few dark spots on her cheeks make her look younger than she is, I think.

"You're so pretty," I tell her.

She smiles awkwardly. One of the older men leans forward. "Penny," he says, his voice deep and smooth, "do you like it here?"

"No," I say, snapping back to the moment. "It's so boring. All there is to do is eat, sleep, watch TV, and..." I stop myself before saying 'masturbate,' which is what a lot of the other residents do when the nurses aren't in eyeshot. Some of them have stupid grins all the time and probably don't even know where they are or what they're doing. They're just responding to their natural urges. That, plus the boredom. I've found myself looking for chances to slip my hands unnoticed down the loose blue pants we all wear. And alone in my room every night with nothing but my thoughts...

I realize they're waiting for me to finish my sentence. "And think," I conclude.

"What do you think about?" springy-hair lady asks.

"My family. My past. Going home."

"You want to go home?" she asks softly.

"Yes," I answer, tears suddenly forming.

"It might not be easy, Penny. Things won't be like they used to be," she warns, her voice kind.

"Things can never be like they used to be," I say, fighting to keep my mind from wandering.

That's because you fucked it all up

, a voice accuses me.

"No..." I whisper.

"Hmm?" she asks, looking intently at me. "No what?"

"No... It won't be easy," I agree.

*******

We had a few more meetings like that over the next two days. They always asked what I think about, what I remember, what I've been feeling, and if anything strange has been happening. One time, in answer to the last question, I said, "Yes." They all leaned forward eagerly. "You've asked me the same questions for three days. Doesn't anyone else think that's strange?"

There was silence for a few seconds, then hearty laughter around the table.

"Yes, Penny," said the white-haired old man who looked like Colonel Sanders. "You should find that strange, indeed."

When they seemed like they were wrapping up our meeting, one of the men in suits asked, "Penny, is anything bothering you? Are you having any problems?"

No one had asked me that in a long time, it seemed. Everyone seemed to assume they knew what my problems were.

"Sleep," I said. "Sleep bothers me."

*******

He was angry - livid - when I chose a college on the other side of the country. I made up some half-convincing reasons, but there was really only one. I had to get away from him. It took me months to start sleeping normally again. I hadn't realized how on edge I was at night. But in the dorm, I was safe.

When I came home for Christmas, he picked up right where he had left off in August. He was rougher now, as if he was punishing me for being gone. Suddenly, sleep was a terrible thing again. Sleep was what brought the monster to my room.

*******

Today was odd. I remembered the whole day from beginning to end, and that almost never happens. I remembered waking up, I remembered all my meals, I remembered trying to fill my time and getting bored when there was so little to do. Then after dinner, Andrew came. We talked for a while, and he kept getting a funny look. I apologized that I didn't have much to say - my life wasn't filled with much worth talking about. He smiled at that. Then we talked about memories - stories from college. He reached out and held my hand, and his touch warmed my whole being.

"When am I going to get to go home with you?" I asked him.

"Very soon," he promised. "Today is a good day, but not every day is like this for you, Penny."

"I..." My eyes went down. I couldn't remember much of the bad days. They were like gaps in my memory. I looked back up. Andrew was sad. Was he disappointed in me? God, had I ruined his life? He deserved better than to have a wife locked up in a place like this. What had his life been like these past... weeks? months? Why hadn't he moved on, found someone better, someone who could make him happy? Had he been waiting for me all this time? Did he really love me that much?

You fucked up his life,

the voice said.

"I'm sorry?" I whispered. "You should be happy, Andrew. Go away and be happy. Please. Don't... I'm not..."

Andrew put his hand on my shoulder to shush my confused ramblings. I closed my eyes and sighed deeply. I wanted him to move closer. I wanted to feel his body on mine again. I wished we were far away from this place, somewhere private, where I could give him what I hadn't been able to for so long.

"It's OK, Penny. Don't worry."

You've fucked it all up. Can't even have one good conversation, can you?

Andrew stayed a few more minutes and tried to tell me stories from work. Didn't he work at a bank? Why was he talking about cars? It was too much. Too much. I shook my head and held up my hand. Too much. When I looked up again, I was back in my bedroom. It was dark and Andrew was gone. Why couldn't he stay the night? Why couldn't my prince stay and protect me from the monster?

*******

I remembered something. I think the medicine is really clearing up my head, maybe. I was having nightmares last night, memories of my father and his abuse. I barely remember the abuse itself because my mind used to start escaping as soon as he opened the door to my room. I remember clearly only the beginning stages, before I learned to get my mind away. Once I developed that technique, my body would just do whatever he made it do, and at some point after he left, I would come back to my senses.

That must be why I never remembered him raping me.

It was all rape, of course, from the moment he first walked into my room. But he always just used my mouth or my hands... or so I thought.

But now I remember.

I don't remember it happening, but one of the last nights before I went back to school, at the end of Christmas break, I think he did more. I woke up later, in pain, thinking my period must be starting early. I used the bathroom and felt the urge to touch myself. Back under the covers, I rubbed myself, thinking of some of the boys I had met during that first semester of school. But even as I moved my fingers gently around my lips, I winced. I felt extra-sensitive. I rationalized it as horniness, or sitting funny on my bike, or something else equally innocuous. And I was wet, wetter than usual. Surely I had been having an erotic dream.

But then it happened again the next night. And the next. And then, after I flew back to school, it stopped. Only now could I say for sure why.

*******

Today was the day. I was going home! They introduced me to Brittany, the nurse who would come help me. There was a long medical check before I left - blood samples, lights in my eyes, questions, clipboards - but knowing I was going home made it all easier. There was a point to it this time.

As we walked out the door and through the parking lot, I leaned on Andrew a bit. I was overwhelmed. It was the first time I had worn regular clothing in ages. It was hot outside, and very sunny.

"You're coming with me?" I squeaked nervously to Andrew as he opened a car door for me. I was suddenly nervous that it wasn't really happening.

"No, Penny.

You're

coming with

me

," he said. His eyes twinkled. It was a joke. It took me a few seconds to realize that and to smile back. But he was already on the other side of the car, getting behind the wheel.

"Brittany will meet us there," he said as he started the engine.

The first few minutes, I just stared out the window. I had almost forgotten what so many things looked and felt like. Being in a car again made me extra nervous. I tried not to think about it. I tried not to think about why it was so upsetting. If Andrew hadn't started talking, I might have lost it. He told me it wouldn't be a long drive and that the house would be mostly as I remembered it. I was just dozing off when we pulled into the driveway.

Home.

*******

The next hour or so was tiring. Andrew moved me back into the house, and Brittany moved a little bit of her stuff into our extra bedroom. I had to look. It wasn't Noel's room anymore. Andrew had taken all of the baby stuff out and had put in an old recliner. It looked so lifeless to me without Noel or any sign of her. Brittany said the room would be fine and that she wouldn't be living there all the time anyway. Brittany. She was just a child to me. So young, so innocent. So untouched by all the sadness the world could throw at one person. I didn't envy her. I wanted to protect her.

We needed to establish a routine - where medicines would go, how to keep track of things, what our schedule would be. Andrew took a few days off work to get things set up. But to be honest, I slept much of the time those first days - slept and watched TV. I was feeling exhausted. Brittany said they had upped my dose of the new drug they were trying and that my body was just adjusting. It was good. Even though I was sleepy, I was still aware of what was happening.

A few days after I moved home, I found myself alone in the house. Andrew was at work. Brittany was... I didn't know where she was. I ate the breakfast that had been left on the table for me, then I went and sat on the couch. Just the feel of those cushions evoked so many memories. The smell of the pillows, the feel of the fabric on my skin. I thought back to that special moment on that couch, the day my parents said they weren't coming to the wedding.

*******

When we began dating in college, I had told Andrew I was a virgin. I think at the time I sincerely believed I was. We had only been dating a few weeks when the topic came up. If any part of me suspected the truth, I probably wouldn't have told him anyway. I so desperately wanted him to love me, and I wanted to be everything I thought he wanted me to be. He was a virgin, too, and after I learned that, even though I was putting together the jagged pieces of my own history, I couldn't bear the thought of telling him I wasn't as pure as he thought me to be.

I had planned to wait until our wedding night to have sex. Maybe I thought that waiting would somehow restore me to some innocent state that I had lost long ago. But then my parents called to say they weren't coming to the wedding. They said hurtful things and shattered my illusions that things were going to be different once I got married. Andrew and I sat on the couch in our new house and cried. Andrew didn't even know all the pain behind my tears, but somehow he carried that pain with me.

Embracing became caressing. Our lips met and I stopped caring about waiting a few more weeks until our wedding night. My fairy-tale wedding was never going to happen, which made waiting for it seem pointless. I could still feel the wetness of tears on my cheeks as I began to unbutton my blouse. By the time Andrew realized what I was doing, I was removing my bra. He pulled back and looked into my eyes.

Are you sure

?

I shivered - the air conditioner was running high because we had been moving boxes into the house that day. I nodded and tried to pull off his shirt. Andrew helped, and soon we were lying down on that couch, the skin of his chest warm against my breasts. Our hands moved frantically, desperate to experience the excitement of touch before one of us changed our minds. All the new sensations were overwhelming us, making me dizzy with fear and ardor.

He unbuttoned my pants and pushed the waistband down just a little bit, enough to make clear his intention to move forward. I pulled my lips back and took a deep breath. Lifting my hips up, I gave Andrew the clearance to pull my pants the rest of the way down. His lips peppered my breasts and stomach with kisses as he slid all the way down, gently slipping my pants past my feet and tossing them to the floor. Standing up, he removed his own jeans with much less tenderness, kicking them aside and crawling back on top of me. I whimpered in excitement and nervousness as I realized with fresh clarity what we were about to do.

Looking back, I think I was stunned. I felt a little guilty about taking that step, and maybe I thought that by not taking any active initiative, I wasn't really the one doing it. Maybe that doesn't make sense. Without me really noticing what was happening, my panties had come off and Andrew was naked on top of me.

I wanted him, I wanted this. Why did I feel so scared? I started breathing fast, trying to find a way to stop this. I felt his tip poking me.

"I can't... I'm not sure..." he said, frustrated. "Can you... can you help me?"

I didn't move. Why did I feel so scared?

"Penny... Baby... Do you want me to stop?"

The tone of disappointment in his voice startled me out of my trance. I shook my head. "No... here." I reached down and touched it. So warm, so firm, so smooth. So intimidating. I winced as I aimed him towards my opening. I don't think I was very wet.