Lilah by Marjorie DeLuca

Author:Marjorie DeLuca [DeLuca, Marjorie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Marjorie DeLuca
Published: 2015-02-13T16:00:00+00:00

16

The locker smelled of mold and sweaty jocks. He was alone. Or thought he was. The damp, labored breathing that filled the air outside the metal door was not his. He was afraid to breathe. Afraid that the locker door would swing open and a hand as big as a goalie glove would reach in and yank him out by his hair. And once he was out there in the open, the same hand would push him down until he knelt on the floor. Then it would grab his wrist and make him hold the hard, purply thing that poked from the man’s sweat pants or cradle the back of his head and crush his face into the man’s hot, sweaty groin that stunk like strong piss. Worse still, he might make him crawl on all fours like a dog so the man could thrust himself against Nick’s backside.

C’mon, the voice would hiss. It won’t hurt you and nobody will ever know.

Footsteps dragged across the floor, then stopped. The swish of a parka brushing against the lockers was deafening. A boot crunched on the stray pieces of popcorn left by his buddies.

Playing games now, are we? You know how I like games.

Then there was an ear-splitting crash as a fist pounded the first locker in his row. A few more seconds and it would reach his. He curled into the smallest ball as if maybe a portal might open and he would simply slide through the inside wall of the locker to a place where fear didn’t exist.

“I was gonna say Happy New Year but you’re crying,” said the softest voice in the world, and Nick opened his eyes, suddenly aware that his whole body was curled snail-like and tight, every muscle clenched. Lilah’s face came into focus, her eyes clear and green in the pale daylight. “Bad dream?”

He tried to speak but his throat was still choked with the childish fear that gripped his insides. He nodded and Lilah’s face softened as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled his face to the safe warmth of her body.

“I get it,” she whispered. “Bad dreams, bad memories. Want to talk about it?”

Her voice slid over him like liquid honey and every muscle in his body unclenched itself as he buried his face in the softness of her bosom. Then he heard himself talking. “I loved hockey when I was a kid. Best player on the team. But there was a guy. The assistant coach. It started when I was only eight..”

And then he told the story. All the buried guilt and shame poured out like pus from a festering sore. He was breathless when it was over. Lilah held him tighter and stroked his hair.

“You didn’t report him?” she asked.

“I was too scared. Then one day he didn’t show up. The coach wouldn’t talk about it. I think someone else complained.”

“Those guys often get away,” said Lilah. “They’re so skilled at intimidating the kids they prey on.”

“How could I have been so stupid,” said Nick.

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