A Touch of Silence

I watched in silence as they lowered my father’s casket into the ground. My mother and sister’s uncontrollable sobs could be heard from a mile away and no doubt by all in attendance. My brother held them, comforting them, trying to be the strong one...as usual. He felt it was his job as the oldest and now the new man of the house. I stood off to the side of them, observing in silence and noticing the little details. 

Like the grass, for example. We were in the month of November and all the green in the world seemed to be fading. The grass in the cemetery was composed more of ugly shades of orange, yellow and brown than green. The trees were dreary, with a few brown and red leaves clinging on for dear life. The only green that remained was from the evergreens, and even they die and turn brown at some point. 

“Death is a part of life, a new journey”, the preacher had told us during my father’s funeral sermon. He said my father was in a better place, heaven. I didn’t know much about that or if my father even believed in those kinds of things, but it seemed to comfort my mother. What I did know was that my father had not been a good man. 

Starting a year ago on my sixteenth birthday, he had started acting strange. I’d wake up in the middle of the night to find him staring at me as I slept. It progressed to taking pictures, to accidentally walking into a room while I was changing clothes, using the bathroom, or taking a shower. I had spoken to my mother about the situation and feeling uncomfortable. The only answer she’d given me was that he suffered from somnambulism- sleep walking; and that he could not control his actions during those episodes because he was still asleep. 

While that may have explained the nightly visits in my room it did not explain how he always seemed eager to catch a glimpse of me in an inappropriate manner and went out of his way to do so. I began to lock the doors, something I’d never felt the need to do before. I locked my door when I went to bed and while in the bathroom. I became paranoid. 

One day I came home from school to find that my door had been taken off the hinges. My father came up with this ridiculous lie that he’d found pot in my room and as punishment he took my door down. Of course my mother believed him. If there had ever been pot, he was no doubt the one to plant it. He smoked with my older brother habitually and hid the fact from my mom. I hated smoking for the simple fact that all my friends were doing it because they thought it was cool. I also hated the smell and the smoke. I’d never even touched the stuff before. 

With no door, I now had no protection against my father and my mother dismissed my worries with little to no regard. She thought I was overreacting and making things up. How I wish I had been. I would have given anything to be wrong about my father. I would have given anything for things to have gone back to the way they used to be, but they didn’t. They couldn’t. Things only escalated from this point. 

About a month before my father’s death was when things really began to escalate. I’d been sneaking in and sleeping in my sister’s room with her, but that night she was at a sleepover with a friend and I was back to my room. I was woken from sleep around 2AM by my father shaking my shoulders. I sat up in bed and he signalled for me to be quiet by placing a finger to his mouth. My heart raced. I was terrified, not knowing what was going to happen. I nodded in understanding. 

“Take off your shirt,” he commanded. He said it as if it was no big thing. Like he was telling me to go wash the dishes or take out the trash or some other household chore. “Dad--,” I began. 

“I’m not your dad!” He interrupted me. I stared at him, confused. “After your sister was born, I didn’t want any more kids. I went and got a vasectomy and didn’t tell your mother. Imagine my surprise when six months later she tells me she’s pregnant again. I went to the doctor and they did some tests and I’m still shooting blanks. Your mother had an affair with another man and got knocked up. I confronted her and she admitted everything. We went to marriage therapy to work things out and decided to stay together. I may be your dad on paper, but not biologically. We don’t share the same blood. I would never be here if we did. I don’t do this to your sister. Now take off your shirt,” he commanded again. 

It was all so much to take in at once. “I don’t want to,” I replied. 

“You can do it, or I will,” he threatened. I felt a lump in my throat and my chest tighten as I fought to control the panic attack I felt swelling up inside me. I lifted my arms and quickly pulled my shirt off, crossing my arms across my chest. A comment that my sister had made one time suddenly popped into my head: 

Jesus Avery, you’re younger than me and already have such big boobs.

“Put your arms down,” he commanded. I was shaking at this point. I was terrified, but stupid little me did as told. He said nothing for a long time as he just looked at me. I could see the desire in his eyes and the bulge in his pants had not gone unnoticed. This had been a man that up until recently, I’d loved as my father. All that had gone away instantly and I hated him now. 

Then he reached out and touched me, trailing his fingers across my flesh. It took everything in me to keep from flinching. Tears threatened to escape. “Hmm,” he said curiously before suddenly rising and walking out of the room. I immediately dressed, had a panic attack, and was unable to fall asleep that night. When my sister returned the next day, I continued to sleep in her room. She never asked why, she probably just assumed that I didn’t like not having a door. 

The day my father died was a day I’ll never forget. It was a Saturday just two weeks ago. I’d slept in late that morning and when I woke up I found that: my mom had left to go Christmas shopping, my sister was out with her friends, and my brother was out with his. 

I walked into the kitchen and noticed that Doug (that was my father’s name (or not my father apparently)) was sitting at the breakfast table reading the newspaper and enjoying a cup of coffee. I’d started referring to him as Doug since I’d learned he wasn’t my real father. No point in calling him Dad anymore. I walked over to the fridge and pulled some frozen waffles out of the freezer and popped them in the toaster. I stared long and hard at the set of kitchen knives right beside the toaster. In my mind, I imagined using one of them and slicing his throat with it. 

“Good morning Avery,” he greeted as if everything was perfectly normal. I looked up and saw him watching me from over the top of his newspaper.

 “Morning,” I finally replied as my waffles popped up.

“Your mom is out Christmas shopping. Olivia and Elijah are out with their friends. Looks like it’s just you and me today,” he stated coming to stand behind me. I took a bite of the plain waffle and tried my best to act unbothered. 

“Oh yeah?” I asked skirting past him into a more open space. 

“Yeah. Do you have plans today?” he asked, his eyes following my every movement. 

It took every fiber of my being and self control to keep from running away. It would only make things worse. Besides, he was more athletic than I. He was the PE teacher at my high school and the baseball coach. Not to mention he wasn’t even forty yet. He’d been eighteen and my mother seventeen when they had my brother. My brother was nineteen about to be twenty, my sister eighteen and I had just turned seventeen. There was just over a year’s difference between my brother and sister and my sister and I. My mother had always wanted to have a family young. 

I really wondered about his behavior towards the women at school. The students and the staff. Was he always such a horndog? I felt bad for them and for my mom. How had I never seen the predator in him before? 

“Yeah, I was going to go to the library,” I stated.

“Come here,” he commanded. I froze. 

“No, I don’t want to,” I replied.

“Why not?” he asked curiously. 

“I don’t want you to touch me. It’s gross,” I stated walking away from him. I hoped and I prayed that he wouldn’t follow me, but he did. He caught my arm and spun me around to face him. 

“Why is it gross? I already told you that you’re not my kid!” he shouted.

“I’m a minor and you work with school kids. You’re disgusting!” I shouted back, losing my cool. 

He lifted his hand to strike me, but stopped himself. 

“It would be easier if you just agreed,” he stated simply.

“Agree to what?” I asked. 

His grip on my wrist tightened and he leaned in close. “To have sex with me, just once,” he admitted. 

“No. I have a boyfriend. You know that,” I stated. 

“I know you haven’t had sex with him yet. Let your first time be with a real man. Show you what a real dick looks like,” he countered.

“I agree, you are a dick. Now let me go,” I threatened.

“Or what?” he retorted, sliding his other hand between my legs. I stomped on his foot as hard as I could and he released me with a yelp. I took off running towards the stairs, but slid in my sock feet on the hardwood floors, lost my balance and fell, hitting my head on the counter. I was rendered temporarily dazed. The world was spinning and I felt dizzy. Then all of a sudden I was being carried. I was too out of it to move properly. 

The next part is where it gets fuzzy as pieces of my memory come and go. I was taken to my parents’ room where I was thrown on the bed, undressed, and bound to the bed posts with sheets tied around my wrists and ankles. By the time I came to my full senses he was already on top of me...inside me. I tried to scream, but noticed the duck tape covering my mouth. It came out completely muffled. 

I struggled against the sheets, but he had tied them well. I gave up and went limp as I let him finish his business. He pulled out and came on my stomach, a mixture of blood and semen. He was sweaty and out of breath. I watched as he rose and walked into the bathroom and took a quick shower. He returned, dressed, and taking a wet bath cloth began to clean the mess he’d made between my legs and on my stomach. 

Outside there was the beeping of a car as it locked. Mom was home. He quickly untied my wrists and ankles and threw me and my clothes out of his room as he began to take the soiled bedsheets off the bed. “Do not say a word!” he threatened. The look in his eyes terrified me and I rushed to my room to shower and dress. 

I was in the shower for nearly an hour, crying and scrubbing my skin until it was raw. I wanted to wash every trace of him away from me. But the memory was already etched into my mind. I stayed in my room for the rest of the day and only came out when I was called for dinner. Mom made spaghetti and meatballs, my favorite, but I had no appetite. No one seemed to notice the change in me or Doug shooting threatening glances at me from across the dinner table. Everyone was completely oblivious. Halfway through dinner, I excused myself and stepped outside. 

The November night air was crisp and cool. I was dressed in a light jacket, leggings, and my favorite black band t-shirt. I was staring at the moon and the stars wishing I could be anywhere but here when Doug came and sat down beside me on the porch steps. I instinctively scooted as far away as possible from him. I couldn’t even look at him. 

“Avery--,” he began, as if searching for the words. I refused to speak to him. “You know I love you---.”

“What you did is not love,” I interrupted, my voice cold. I angrily wiped at the tears that I didn’t want to come. I rose to my feet and stepped away from him. “You’re a monster. Plain and simple,” I stated before taking off down the street. 

“Avery, where are you going?” he called. I ignored him as I took off running. It was a stupid idea. He was going to come after me. He caught up with me quickly and caught me by the hood of my jacket, yanking it. 

“What the fuck are you doing Avery!?” he shouted in my face. I flinched and began to try and push him away from me. “Don’t touch me!” I screamed. We were on a public street and I was hoping and praying that someone would see. 

I struggled against him and he took hold of my arm and twisted it behind my back. I screamed in pain. 

“Hey what’s going on?!” I heard a man shout. We both looked to see who the voice belonged to. It was one of my brother’s friends. His name was Leo. He lived in the same neighborhood as us. He went to school with Olivia and I. He was a senior like her. 

“What’s going on Mr. Russell?” Leo asked as Doug released me. 

“Oh, hey Leo. How’s it going?” he asked cooly. 

Leo’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of us. 

“You alright, Avery?” he asked, his gaze meeting mine. 

I looked back and forth between Leo and Doug.

“She’s fine, Leo. Thanks for asking. Let’s go home, Avery,” Doug stated, shooting me a threatening glance. 

“No,” I replied, shaking my head.

“Goddammit Avery! Get inside the fucking house!” he screamed, causing me to flinch. 

“Hey, calm down Mr. Russell,” Leo said.

“You mind your business and go home!” he shouted to Leo. 

While he was distracted with Leo, I took off running again, further down the street. 

“Goddammit Avery!” Doug shouted, taking off after me again. 

This time he caught up with me and grabbed me by the hair. 

“Let go of her!” Leo shouted pushing Doug away from me. He lost his balance and fell backwards onto the concrete. I heard a crack and turned to see blood pooling from his head. 

“Oh my god!” Leo shouted, taking out his cellphone to call 9-1-1. 

“Don’t tell them you pushed him. Just say he fell,” I whispered fiercely. 

“Is he dead?” Leo asked me between talking to dispatch. 

“Hopefully,” I murmured under my breath.

He wasn’t dead yet, but died on the way to the hospital. The police questioned us. We told them most of the truth. Leo had seen us arguing and that he witnessed Doug falling. The police asked me why we were arguing. I made some bullshit excuse up. It was an open and shut case. No one needed to know that Leo pushed Doug or what Doug had done to me. I wanted it buried with him. 

My family turned away as they began to cover the casket with dirt. I stood a while longer and lingered as everyone else departed. “I hope you rot in hell,” I murmured just above a whisper. 

“Did you say something, Miss?” one of the funeral caretakers asked, pausing with his shovel of dirt in midair.

“Not at all,” I replied, turning on my heels. 

Leo was lingering at a distance, leaning against a tree. I approached him. “Hey Avery,” he greeted, opening his arms for a hug. I hadn’t seen him since the police had questioned us two weeks ago. I returned the hug and found myself gripping him tightly as the tears came. After the police had questioned us, I’d told Leo what really happened. He’d been surprisingly supportive. 

“I’m always around if you need someone to talk to,” he stated, patting the top of my head. I pulled away and nodded. He wiped my tears away and held his hand out to me. I took it. “Let’s get the hell outta here,” he suggested with a grin. I nodded and we walked hand in hand, out of the cemetery where that no-good rapist would be left for worm food. I never stepped foot there again.