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Re: A Story
When she was finally able to, she scoured herself sore. She kept rubbing and rubbing, scrubbing harder and harder - all the places that may have been defiled. Was she missing a spot? Where? Here? Scrub it just to be sure. Just to be sure that nothing is left behind.
The not knowing for sure if she had been touched and how, sent her mind into a vortex. Irma tried to quell the overwhelming tide and was unaware that she was screaming until strong hands reached in and grabbed her out of the shower.
The shock of it stunned her into silence. With semi-comprehending eyes, she stared into Micheal's face.
"Irma?! Irma, whappen?" his inquiry was urgent. "Whappen to yuh man? Yuh aright?"
Her whimper was a non-answer, so he grabbed the nearest towel, wrapped it around her, turn the shower off and bundled her off back to the bed.
"Baby, yuh aright?," he asked again, quietly urgent, as he pressed the water from her hair.
"Mikey?"
"Yeah man, is me. Whagwan? Mi come fi check yuh caw yuh lef work day before yessiday jus sudden so. An when yuh neva show up yessiday, mi stawt to wonda. Cawse mi knoa say dat is not like you. So when mi hear yuh a scream, mi figa say smaddy in yah a try a ting - by de way, sorry bout de door..."
"De door?"
"Yeah, mi had to bruck it dung, eediat flimsy door dat anyway. But mi wi fix it still, betta dan it was before.
So whappen to yuh Irma? What's going on? Wha mek yuh didda scream so?"
Irma pushed the question aside by concentrating on being in Micheal's arms. This was what she had been secretly fantasizing about for months now, so why was her skin suddenly crawling? Why did she want to scream at him to let her go? Why the total and utter revulsion?
Irma struggled out of his arms and kept the towel wrapped around her as best she could. She inched away from him to the farthest point of the bed. He stared at her inquiringly.
"Irma, supm happen, nuh true? Tell me," he offered gently.
Irma closed her eyes and put up her hand to stop him. His gentleness would be undoing and she was already undone far enough.
"Yuh haffi go," she stated flatly.
"Why?"
"Because," she choked, and steadied her breathing.
"Irma-"
"Mikey, mi want yuh fi leave. Now!" the trembling was starting. She could feel it. God, please let him leave before it became impossible to hide.
"But baby-"
"Mikey!" she screamed.
"Aright! Aright," he soothed. "Mi a lef. But mi no like dis eno. Supm happen. An mi no tink yuh shoulda be by yuhself right now. Yuh nuh have nobady yuh can call fi come ova? Some fren or de adda?"
Irma turned her head away. "Aright," he sighed. "But undastan say it nah go jus done so. Mi nah go feel comfatable widin miself knowing say yuh deh yah in a dem yah condition yah. Mi a go gi yuh sometime fi colleck yuhself an den mi an yuh a go talk, seen?"
Again, she was unresponsive, but as he reached the door, she called out haltingly, "Mikey."
"Um?"
"Sorry. Mi aright man, really. Mi jus a try deal wid a ting. Is no big ting doah. Mi wi si yuh a work tomorrow."
"Yuh sure bout dat? Nat dat mi want yuh fi kill up yuhself fi do de dead lef wok, but lawd, a pere eediat people a cawl cawl up de place an a ask pere kina foo-fool question. Mi neva knoa say a so much eediat yuh haffi deal wid a day time," he shook his head. "An funny enough, when mi ask de bossman bout yuh, im ack like everyting criss... I guess im did knoa say yuh weren't going to be in?"
When she failed to respond, he turned to examining the door and told her that it wasn't as bad as he had thought, and that he'd come by on the weekend to shore it up, or sooner, if he didn't hear from her.
Irma exhaled shakily after he had left. Why had she told him that she'd be in tomorrow? How was she going to handle that? And Mr. Jones, he hadn't been at all concerned that she had been absent for how long? Two days? Is that because he knew why she was absent? Is that because he knew much more than she did?
How was she going to handle it? What would she say to him? Irma stayed in bed, sobbing piteously, knowing that she'd have to get out of bed tomorrow, but not sure why.
She needed a plan of action. And she had only the night to formulate one.
When she was finally able to, she scoured herself sore. She kept rubbing and rubbing, scrubbing harder and harder - all the places that may have been defiled. Was she missing a spot? Where? Here? Scrub it just to be sure. Just to be sure that nothing is left behind.
The not knowing for sure if she had been touched and how, sent her mind into a vortex. Irma tried to quell the overwhelming tide and was unaware that she was screaming until strong hands reached in and grabbed her out of the shower.
The shock of it stunned her into silence. With semi-comprehending eyes, she stared into Micheal's face.
"Irma?! Irma, whappen?" his inquiry was urgent. "Whappen to yuh man? Yuh aright?"
Her whimper was a non-answer, so he grabbed the nearest towel, wrapped it around her, turn the shower off and bundled her off back to the bed.
"Baby, yuh aright?," he asked again, quietly urgent, as he pressed the water from her hair.
"Mikey?"
"Yeah man, is me. Whagwan? Mi come fi check yuh caw yuh lef work day before yessiday jus sudden so. An when yuh neva show up yessiday, mi stawt to wonda. Cawse mi knoa say dat is not like you. So when mi hear yuh a scream, mi figa say smaddy in yah a try a ting - by de way, sorry bout de door..."
"De door?"
"Yeah, mi had to bruck it dung, eediat flimsy door dat anyway. But mi wi fix it still, betta dan it was before.
So whappen to yuh Irma? What's going on? Wha mek yuh didda scream so?"
Irma pushed the question aside by concentrating on being in Micheal's arms. This was what she had been secretly fantasizing about for months now, so why was her skin suddenly crawling? Why did she want to scream at him to let her go? Why the total and utter revulsion?
Irma struggled out of his arms and kept the towel wrapped around her as best she could. She inched away from him to the farthest point of the bed. He stared at her inquiringly.
"Irma, supm happen, nuh true? Tell me," he offered gently.
Irma closed her eyes and put up her hand to stop him. His gentleness would be undoing and she was already undone far enough.
"Yuh haffi go," she stated flatly.
"Why?"
"Because," she choked, and steadied her breathing.
"Irma-"
"Mikey, mi want yuh fi leave. Now!" the trembling was starting. She could feel it. God, please let him leave before it became impossible to hide.
"But baby-"
"Mikey!" she screamed.
"Aright! Aright," he soothed. "Mi a lef. But mi no like dis eno. Supm happen. An mi no tink yuh shoulda be by yuhself right now. Yuh nuh have nobady yuh can call fi come ova? Some fren or de adda?"
Irma turned her head away. "Aright," he sighed. "But undastan say it nah go jus done so. Mi nah go feel comfatable widin miself knowing say yuh deh yah in a dem yah condition yah. Mi a go gi yuh sometime fi colleck yuhself an den mi an yuh a go talk, seen?"
Again, she was unresponsive, but as he reached the door, she called out haltingly, "Mikey."
"Um?"
"Sorry. Mi aright man, really. Mi jus a try deal wid a ting. Is no big ting doah. Mi wi si yuh a work tomorrow."
"Yuh sure bout dat? Nat dat mi want yuh fi kill up yuhself fi do de dead lef wok, but lawd, a pere eediat people a cawl cawl up de place an a ask pere kina foo-fool question. Mi neva knoa say a so much eediat yuh haffi deal wid a day time," he shook his head. "An funny enough, when mi ask de bossman bout yuh, im ack like everyting criss... I guess im did knoa say yuh weren't going to be in?"
When she failed to respond, he turned to examining the door and told her that it wasn't as bad as he had thought, and that he'd come by on the weekend to shore it up, or sooner, if he didn't hear from her.
Irma exhaled shakily after he had left. Why had she told him that she'd be in tomorrow? How was she going to handle that? And Mr. Jones, he hadn't been at all concerned that she had been absent for how long? Two days? Is that because he knew why she was absent? Is that because he knew much more than she did?
How was she going to handle it? What would she say to him? Irma stayed in bed, sobbing piteously, knowing that she'd have to get out of bed tomorrow, but not sure why.
She needed a plan of action. And she had only the night to formulate one.
I haven't written anything in a long while and had forgotten how cathartic and enjoyable it is. 
How could he do such a thing?
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