—Boogeyman—
Shelly has her arms wrapped around me and it feels so damn right having her on the back of my bike. She is a natural rider. Didn’t have to tell her how to get on or how to sit or where to put her feet. Just had to tell her not to lean when I turn.
I can’t shake this uneasy feeling though.
Deep in my gut I know somehow, I will fuck this up.
I’m going to lose her.
I don't deserve her.
I’m not worthy of anyone’s love, especially not hers.
But I want it anyways.
I take and I take until there is nothing left to give.
That's what my old man always said.
Said I was a fucking leech bleeding him and Kristen dry. I keep hearing his damn voice drilling in my head. Him telling me how lousy and pathetic I am. What a monster I am. How I’m cut from his cloth. What a bastard I am. How unworthy I am of her love.
I drive until we hit the Virginia state line.
I know what I need to do.
I have to set her free.
We come up on a rest stop that has a small park to walk around and stretch your legs after travelling.
After grabbing some drinks from the vending machine, we look for a seat. It’s only us and a few late-night travelers.
We cop a squat at a picnic table.
“How’s the shoulder?”
“A bit sore,” she confesses.
“Take these.” I hand her a couple of pain relievers.
“Thanks.” Taking a sip of her Pepsi, she swallows the pills.
We sit in an uncomfortable silence until she breaks it.
“Will you tell me about Kristen? I saw your tattoos. They tell your story, don’t they? She’s dead, right?”
I have never wanted to share my story with anyone before. Hades and a few of the others know bits and pieces of my fucked-up life but they don't know the full ugly truth.
I feel I owe it to Shelly though. Because one day she will remember who I truly am, and I don't want there to be any damn mistake on what kind of man I am.
I don’t want her looking back and romanticizing who I am—a fucking monster. A real life fucking Boogeyman who will haunt her dreams.
She’ll haunt me too but in a much different way.
“Our parents married when I was seven and she was around eleven. My mom had run off when I was five. My dad liked to beat on her. Blamed her for all his problems. She left me behind to take her place as his punching bag. Anyway. Kristen’s mom wasn’t much better. She loved the needle more than anything. There were a lot of times I thought she was dead. Eventually I think she did die, though my old man said she ran off too. Truth be told I am sure he killed them both.”
I stop to take a drink. “I never found out what had happened to them until I caught him in a talking mood. He told me he dumped their bodies in the old well. He was going to put Kristen there, but I buried her under an old willow tree. The one we’d climb up in to hide from my bastard father.”
“Oh! Charlie.” Shelly squeezes my hand.
I shake my head. “Don’t be sorry for me. I’m no angel in this story. Kristen was good to me. She looked after me and got between me and my old man a few times. She paid for it too. Not long after her mom was gone my old man started using Kristen. The first time he forced her, I watched. She had gotten her period and the blood got on the couch. I tried to hide it for her. Flipped the cushion over but we weren’t fooling the bastard. I woke up later that night to the sound of her screams. Of her begging him to stop. I peered through the keyhole and there she was. Bent over his bed. He was behind her with his belt. The white nightgown she always wore was pulled up over her hips as he struck her repeatedly for soiling the couch. When she came out of the room, her gown was in rags and blood stained her thighs.”
I continue the story. Telling her how Kristen took care of me and how I was there for her. I’d clean her up and help her hide the abuse because I was scared of losing her. I didn’t want her to be taken away, too.
If I hadn’t been selfish she’d have gotten away before it was too late. Before she ended up like all the others.
“Charlie, you have to know that what happened wasn’t your fault. You were a boy. A scared and lost little boy clinging to the one person who loved you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I could have saved her. I could have killed him sooner.”
“You killed your father?”
“I told you. I’m not a good man.”
“I think you gave him better than he deserved.”
I shake my head.
I’m the one who should be dead. Not Kristen.
I stand, and Shelly goes to follow me, but I push her down by her shoulder and she winces.
“Five miles from here there is a police station. When I get far enough away I will call in an anonymous tip.”
“What? No,” she protests. “I’m staying with you.”
“You deserve better than I can give you. I’m no better than my old man and if you stay with me you’ll end up like Kristen.”
“I don’t care about the past. You aren’t your father. You’re a good man.” She clings to my hand.
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I’m trying to do the right thing here.”
“What about what I want? Do my feelings matter? Do I get a say so?”
“You think you know me, but you don’t.”
“I know you…I know what’s in here…” Her other hand moves to cover my chest where my heart would be if I had one.
I jerk from her hold and turn my back on her. Every step I take away from her kills me a little more on the inside. The broken look on her face. I put it there. It’s etched in my mind. To serve as a reminder of who I am and what I do.
“Charlie!” She screams my name, but it falls on deaf ears.
I get on my bike and drown out the sound of her cry as I rev the engine.
Every mile I drive I see a flash of her smile in my head. The way she looked at me as though she loved me. The way she felt when I fucked her. The taste of her lips. It all plays on a never-ending loop.
I make it two more miles down the road before I turn back for her.