[Author's Note: I would like to thank Lillie, Bigg_Mike, Captain Krunch, Latina, Kekostree and Rex for editing this chapter, providing me story feedbacks and fixing my lousy grammar. I wouldn't have been able to finish this without them.
To the people who have followed this story so far and are continuing to do so, thank you very much. I appreciate all your comments, feedbacks and messages. You all inspire me to become a much better writer.
P.S.
This is a re-edited version of chapter 3. I changed some of the descriptions of the places and added an extra dialogue.
Other than that, the story is still the same as in the previous version.]
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Chapter III: Inimicus
I stood speechless; dumbfounded at the sight before me. My Mum, near-naked with bruises all over her body, was standing in front of me. Her white dress was now grimy and tattered, torn to expose her right breast that she covered with her palm. Her hair was chaotic, and her make-up was smudged. She was a mess. Judging from the terrible state of her appearance, I felt certain something really bad had happened to her. And I thought I recognized who the possible culprit might be.
Marcus stood next to her, his large hand resting on her waist, as he observed my expression ... and then grinned. He towered over my mother and me. I am friends with persons of different colors; but his being very large, and black, made him an even more intimidating presence.
On top of this he wore a 'gangsta' get-up consisting of a white tank-top, baggy jeans, his signature white-gold necklace and other "bling-blings" that adorned his ear, wrist, and fingers. At that moment I was absolutely convinced he'd been the one who had hurt Mum -- or at least had had something to with it.
"Honey, is that you?" My Dad called as he approached from behind her. When he reached the door where I stood, he caught his first sight of Mum ... and Marcus, and froze.
"Oh, darling," my mother turned and ran toward him. She embraced him tightly, crying hard as she buried her face in his shoulder.
"What happened to you, Eva!?" he asked anxiously, patting her head.
She paused for a moment, as tears continued to trickle from her eyes, and looked up at him. She brushed at the tears and wiped them with her hand, then uttered softly, "I was raped."
"WHAT?!"
My Dad was clearly as shocked, judging from his facial expressions, as I was. While I'd already formed my own idea about what had happened, to hear her say it firsthand was horrifying.
"Who? Who did this?" He asked shaking her hard by the shoulders, momentarily oblivious of what he was doing. He stopped immediately when she yelped in pain, but kept hold of her shoulders. For a few moments he stood stock still, and gazed down at her in a state of shock.
"Whoa, easy there fool!" Suddenly Marcus stepped up and made to pull her away from him.
This surprised Dad right out of his catatonic state. He released her and looked up at the young man. Then suddenly he sprang into action. "YOU! You did this!" He pointed angrily at Marcus, who just looked back at him. He stormed toward Marcus, his fist raised over his head, but stopped short when he caught sight of Mum, who'd turned to hug the tall black man, shielding him from Dad.
"No, Greg! He didn't do this! He's my savior! He saved me!" She cried aloud, as her arms continued to envelope Marcus' waist.
I was stupefied. To see her protecting him from her very own husband, astonished me. And then to have learned that Marcus was actually her savior, completely blew my mind. It seemed I was mistaken when judging him earlier, and I rather regretted my presumption now.
"Umm ... umm ..." My Dad stuttered as he lowered his arms. He looked at Marcus, and upon seeing Marcus warily meet his gaze, immediately lowered his eyes. He stood quietly again, dumbfounded, scratching his head.
"I'm sorry Marcus. He didn't know," Mum said as she turned her face to him.
"It's okay, girl. No harm done," Marcus replied in a gruff voice. He stroked my Mum's back as they stood together.
I tried to think of something to say that would ease the tension. "We should all probably head inside."
"Yeah," Mum agreed. She led the way, hand in hand with Marcus, and walked toward me. She paused briefly to glare at Dad, when she passed by him. I held open the door and glanced calculatingly at Marcus' colossal figure as they passed through and inside. Dad needed a little coaxing to move; he still had his head down, riveted to where he stood.
"Dad, you coming?"
His trance broken, he looked at me with embarrassment and regret. "Yeah," he muttered and stepped through. I closed the door.
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Inside the apartment, it was quiet except for our movements as we found seats in the living room. Dad walked down the hall to the kitchen. I moved to sit close to Mum on the couch. She now had a large blanket draped around her. She slouched against one of the big couch pillows propped behind her, and stared blankly at the floor. Marcus sat sprawled in a plump chair nearby.
He'd made himself extremely comfortable, resting his feet on top of the coffee table, and looked around the room a bit too nonchalantly.
"Drink this, it will warm you up," Dad returned from the kitchen and gently handed a cup of coffee on a saucer to Mum.
She took it without acknowledging him, and I watched as Dad frowned at her little before turning to go back to the kitchen. "Ummm ... Marcus, was it?" He called from behind the kitchen counter.
"What?" Our guest replied.
"Would you like some coffee?"
"You got any beer, old boy?" He turned to grin at my Dad.
I found myself at odds with Marcus, disliking him for his boorish behavior during such a sensitive time. It seemed like he was intentionally forgetting his manners.
Dad seemed irritated too, but I noticed that he hid it under a forced smile. "I've got some
Golden Fountain.
"
"Atta' boy!"
He carried two bottles into the living room, handing one to Marcus and keeping the other. He sat down on the couch. Dad and I now had Mum sandwiched in, one of us on each side, and as we settled down I watched her take another sip of her coffee.
"Dad, can I have a beer too?"
"No you can't young man, you're not yet twenty-one!" It was Mum who laid down the law this time.
I blushed with embarrassment when I heard Marcus snicker; and thought of pointing out in protest that Marcus was also not yet of legal drinking age, but backed down under Dad's glare. I decided to just bear with the shame.
Dad reached toward Mum's left shoulder and gave it a massage. "Eva, I've apologized to Marcus and I want to apologize to you. I'm sorry about the incident between Marcus and me. It was a mistake on my part. I was just angry. "So now, can you please tell me how it happened?" He pleaded.
For a few seconds, no one said a word. Mum looked at Dad and he returned her gaze, albeit a little anxiously. We all wanted to give Mum the time she needed.
Finally, she started to speak. "It was around 12. I was out by the curb waiting for a cab," She spoke softly, and took a breather, recollecting. After some more time passed, she continued. "My friend Anna insisted I stay at their house since I'd had a bit to drink, and it was very late. I turned down the offer though, since I wanted to go home to you guys."
She took a sip of coffee, carefully placing the cup back on its saucer, and then put it on the table. Clearing her throat, she carried on. "While I was trying to hail a taxi, I saw several men in a van shout at me -- some of it sounded like Spanish. I didn't understand, at first. Then I realized they were trying to pick me up. They kept following me as I walked up the street. It made me nervous. So I started running."
Dad took some swigs of his beer, listening intently.
"They then chased me, as some of them hopped out of the van. I was scared. I tried to scream for help as I ran, but no one heard me. I then saw an alley and ran towards it. But it was a dead end! When I tried to go back, they were already there. It was too late. I thought of calling 911, but then I realized my phone didn't have a battery anymore."
I watched her eyes, sensing she was reliving the same fear as when she had actually experienced those events.
"One of them, a young Hispanic, approached me and said that if I go with them, they won't hurt me. When I refused, he slapped me hard on the face. I then fell to the ground."
She showed us the mark on her cheek where she'd been hit. It looked tender, and Dad began to lightly caress it. She smiled weakly at him. "I tried to crawl away from them, but he grabbed my hair from behind and yanked it." She pulled her hair in imitation of the act. "I kicked him in the nuts, and threw my cell phone at his face. He dropped to the ground after that. I then continued crawling."
For some reason, even though the guy in the story deserved it, for hurting my mother, I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. I imagined myself in his place, as he was hit by a kick in the balls, and it kind of caused a phantom pain in my own testicles. I believed the same sentiments were shared by my father, as I noticed him gulped at the description.
Even though the guy deserved it for hurting my mother, I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. I imagined myself in his place, as he was hit by a kick in the balls; and it kind of caused a phantom pain in my own testicles. I suspected that the same sentiments were shared by my Dad; I'd noticed him gulp.
"I reached a wall however, and I knew I had no more escape. I saw him get back up, fuming at me. He then rushed at me and punched me in the eye. I was staggered. After that he started tearing of my clothes, while slapping me in the face when I resisted. Four other men then held me in the arms and in the legs, as he took my bra and panties off...." She stopped and began to cry. Tears streamed down her face while Dad tried to comfort her.
It was getting really emotional, and I didn't think that she could carry on with the story.
She proved me wrong, as she tried again to speak. "He then... he then..." She stuttered though, and couldn't seem to follow up with more words. Dad continued to stroke her back. Laying her head on his shoulder, she began to muster more of her spirit. "He then molested me ... and I couldn't do anything. So I just closed my eyes, and prayed." She closed her eyes for a while, as if trying to imagine the scene all over again. "It was then that I heard a thud and some gunshots. When I opened my eyes, he was there ..."
She opened her eyes, and then stared at Marcus, who met her gaze. Father caught this, and he too turned to look at my classmate. "He punched those assholes and shot some of them. They tried to fight back, but he was strong. Really strong!"
I then noticed her smile at Marcus, and watched him return her smile. It was the same one she always gave me. One part of me didn't like her giving it away to him, while another part of me was just glad to see it return to her face.
"When the guy who was raping me tried to shoot him with a gun, he shot him first in the arm. He then grabbed him, and threw him in the air. He was amazing!"
She beamed with gratitude at him. "When everything was over, he went to me and lifted me up. He then carried me." Her eyes, still a bit teary, now seemed to show flashes of ... maybe something more than grateful admiration.
I hoped I was mistaken.
"He saved me."
"Any real man would do the same thing, for a pretty woman like you," Marcus replied cheekily.
I couldn't quite get over how he'd done all of those things for my mum. It wasn't as if I didn't appreciate his help, but it kind of messed with my image of him. Try as I might, I couldn't get beyond my initial impression of him as some sort of barbaric, uncouth, malicious, sex-addicted asshole, even though it seemed I was wrong and that he had a heart after all.
