Lone Wolf #9: Miami Marauder by Barry Mike

Author:Barry, Mike [Barry, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4405-4242-8
Publisher: Prologue Books
Published: 1974-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

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The rape had left her curiously untouched. She thought, in the first onslaught of feeling after the old man had left her, that she would never be the same again, that some intricate violation had occurred which she would not even be able to calculate let alone conquer for the rest of her life, but that had passed quickly: who was she, she found herself thinking, to be shaken by the act of rape after what she had been through? Pothead at seventeen, speedfreak at twenty-one, little intermezzos in which she had dealt with uppers, downers, inners, outers, shit, smack, LSD, left abandoned in a speedjag to die in a furnished room, rescued by an insane ex-cop who was out to destroy the international drug trade, a wild affair with this cop which had lasted all of three days the first time, one day the second, her insides plumbed by him in a way that none of the drugs had ever found …

No, she was no one who could find the act of rape scarring, particularly when the rapist had been a seventy-three-year-old man who was impotent. When was it rape? at the point of entrance? she thought, or did it start somewhere before that, with the intent? If it started with intent she had been raped, because Calabrese had been desperate to possess her, but if you only considered the act itself then she was untouched. He had not been able to get near her in any private way although he had squirreled and battered away at her desperately for fifteen minutes. No, it was not rape. Not in any legal sense of the word. Even the most militant feminist would find it hard to justify this one in a court of law. Perversity, possession, hatred, pain: no doubt about it. But not rape. No. Not classical rape.

He had tried to pierce her weeping, had failed, weeping, had left her room in the same way, a bedraggled, wretched old man (and perhaps the most repellent aspect of it, the thing that had hurt her the most, was the pity that he had leeched out of her, feeling pity she knew was the only terrible aspect of the act because it had been given freely whereas everything else had been wrenched from her and the pity was none the less painful because it was real) and she had been on the bed for a long time, trying to put herself together. Then it had passed from her, like some cloak dropping away from her shoulders; the true pain and indignity of what had happened had fallen away from her and she had known that whatever else happened, however it was recollected, she would never be able to feel that kind of pain again. Then she had dressed herself, put on makeup in the bathroom and when she had come out, her guard had been back there, his face bland and embarrassed, turned toward the wall. So he knew exactly what had happened.

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