---

 

This writing was accepted for publication in the 96 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book... “am I really extinct” Down in the Dirt (v122) (the Mar./Apr. 2014 Issue) You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:

Order this writing in the book the Beaten Path (a Down in the Dirt Jan. - June 2014 collection book)		get the 372 page Jan. - June 2014 Down in the Dirt magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Order this writing in the book Need to Know Basis (redacted edition) (the 2014 poetry, flash fiction & short prose collection book)		get this poem collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Eyes Like Coal

Melissa Davis


    “This isn’t going anywhere,” Natalie complained.
    “We have been making great progress. Yet, I feel that, perhaps, your dissatisfaction comes from something you are keeping from me,” the doctor replied.
    “Like what? We’ve gone through everything in my life. Poor self esteem. Crappy job. Lack of friends. No boyfriend. And for what? So I can feel sorry for myself?”
    “Our purpose here is not to make you feel sorry for yourself, but to help you gain the insight that will aid you in leading a more productive life. Or is that not why you came here?”
    “I suppose it is,” Natalie replied. “But it just feels like a waste.”
    “Maybe there is something you haven’t mentioned? You have said previously that you used to have friends and boyfriends. When did that change?” the doctor asked.
    “I don’t know. Why would it even matter?”
    “Well, let’s see. Just tell me about it and then we can discuss it.”
    “I was still in middle school — thirteen years old — I told you it was a long time. . .

********

    Anyways, back then I had a ton of friends. Every weekend we would go to the beach or party at a friend’s house. We used to get drunk on wine coolers and cheap beer. Then, I became really close with one girl, Jamie. She always wore black, so I always wore black. We painted our eyes and lips with black make-up. We kept a journal where we wrote notes back and forth to each other. We dyed our hair black together in my bathroom. And we also accidently dyed our necks and the bottom of the tub. Well, I began to spend less and less time with my other friends and more time with Jamie, her boyfriend, and her brother Sam. I definitely had a crush on Sam. He was seventeen with long black hair, dyed of course, and the blackest eyes. When I looked at his eyes, I couldn’t even see the iris from the pupil — they were the same color.
    One night, I was hanging out with Jamie as usual and we were watching a horror movie in her bedroom. Then, her boyfriend called her so I was just laying in the bed listening to a one sided conversation. Then, Sam came in and jumped in the bed with us, so I was sandwiched between them.
    “Hey what’s up?” he asked.
    “Nothing,” I whispered. I never had anything intelligent to say to Sam. And he always looked at me like the dumb middle-schooler I was.
    Sam jumped out of the bed and turned out the lights.
    “I’m cold,” he said. “Let’s get under the covers.”
    “Move over Jamie. I’m getting under the covers,” I said.
    Jamie moved to the floor and continued her conversation.
    Sam and I lay in the bed with the covers up to our shoulders for a few minutes. Then, Sam slipped his cold hand under my t-shirt. He slid his hand upwards and cupped my breast while lifting my shirt up. Then, he rolled to his side and kissed my chest. I lifted my shirt over my head while he undid my bra. Sam rolled on top of me and undid my pants. I circled his shoulders, his waist, and then lifted his t-shirt off. We slid our pants and underwear off simultaneously.
    Sam arched his back and lifted himself into me. I gasped suddenly and felt his force ripping into me. After a few moments, the tearing sensation receded and we rocked up and down together, digging our nails into each others arms. Finally, Sam arched his back sharply, grunted, and came into me. My sensation was somewhat less pleasurable as I was still experiencing some stretching pain. Yet, it felt so right that I mentally orgasmed with triumph. I had had a crush on Sam for so long and now this. Who knew? Me — with a seventeen year old. He would be my boyfriend and I would be Jamie’s best friend and we would all be one happy family. I was writing a future in the afterglow of my passion.
    As Sam rolled back to his side he asked, “You okay?”
    “Ya,” I replied. “I don’t even think I bled.”
    “Eew!” Jamie yelled.
    “Guess what?” she said to her boyfriend. “Natalie and Sam totally just did it in my bed.”
    She turned to us, “You guys are so washing my sheets.”

********

    “Well, you’re a doctor so I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that Sam and I never dated. He never spoke to me again.”
    “So you give up on men? Plenty of people have bad sexual experiences, especially when they are young,” he replied.
    “That’s not all. Although, that was basically the end of my friendships. Most of my friends stopped speaking to me because they said I was too obsessed with Sam. And I couldn’t be as close with Jamie because I was embarrassed about acting like a fool with her brother.”

********

    Jamie begged me over and over to go to her New Year’s Eve party a year after the incident. I tried to make excuses but she was persistent. I got dressed up. I even heard a little voice in the back of my head suggesting that Sam and I might share a midnight kiss.
    I knew no one there. I found a table in the back and sat there with champagne. I saw Sam. He was wearing his hottest clothes with his black hair tied back in a ponytail. He had his arm around a skinny blond with a dress so short she couldn’t bend over. Our eyes met once, for a second. As I stared at his eyes like coal, there was no smile of recognition, no half-way wave. Those coal eyes stared through me.
    “Hey, what are you doing over here?” Jamie asked. “You don’t look like you’re having fun”
    “I don’t really know anyone.”
    “Please, I’ll introduce you.”
    She walked me to the table where she and her boyfriend were sitting. She pointed to a girl with dark brown hair and glasses.
    “Natalie, this is Marcia. I’ve known her even longer than I’ve known you. So I know you’re both awesome.”
    “Hi,” she said. “How do you know Jamie?”
    “We go to school together. And you?”
    “Our parents are friends. We grew up together. Although we don’t see each other too often anymore. Just for big parties — like this.”
    “I haven’t been seeing Jamie as much lately either. I guess I’ve been busy.”
    Marcia and I didn’t have dates for the party so when the clock struck midnight we just downed our champagne as everyone else cheered and kissed.
    Marcia glanced to where Sam had his date in a backbend as he stuck his tongue down her throat.
    “That is disgusting,” she said.
    “PDAs?” I tried to ask coolly.
    “No, just Sam in general. I wonder if he’s fucked her yet . . . or if he’ll fuck her again.”
    “What?”
    “Well, Jamie hates when I talk about this, but I should warn you. There is a reason I only see Jamie at big gatherings. I don’t like to be alone at her house. When I was ten Sam locked me in his room and fingered me until his parents heard me screaming. Since then, our families aren’t as close — for obvious reasons.
    “But it’s Jamie I really feel bad for,” she continued. “At night, Sam sometimes comes in her room and, well, basically rapes her.”
    “Why don’t her parents do something about this?”
    “Who knows? They’re probably in denial about their perfect little boy.”
    I looked back at Sam and his date, but not with envy. With disgust. I thought back to the night when he used me, as he’d used so many other young girls. But now I wasn’t fantasizing about his smooth, cool fingers on me. The thought of his touch on my skin felt like worms. His black eyes were worm holes. The thought of his body made my skin itch and squirm with crawling worms.
    But did I report him? No. I just let him keep using young girls. Who knows whatever happened to him. Or Jamie - his biggest victim. We never spoke again after that night.

********

    “So I can’t be with anyone else. The thought of a man on or in me makes my skin crawl. It’s not logical — Jamie should be here, not me. Or, better yet, Sam. He was really sick.”
    “None of this was your fault. You were just a child, barely even a teenager. Nobody would blame you for not reporting him,” the doctor replied.
    “But it’s disgusting. I’m not a good friend. I did nothing to help her. And the thought of sex, placing that kind of trust in anyone, disgusts me.”
    “It doesn’t have to feel that way. That’s why you’re here. We can work through this.”
    “That’s just words. What good are words?”

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...