Sister of Silence Read Online Free PDF Page A

below.
    But the pain became too real, ripping my mind away from the tiles.
    “No, this is … this is wrong. We can’t do this. Please don’t!”
    I wasn’t sure if I spoke the words out loud, or said them inside my head.
    “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
    It was over in what seemed like mere seconds. Still sore from what had just occurred, I didn’t, couldn’t move. My eyes wildly searched the tiles again.
    Up and down, over and around, through a loop and crossed in the center. Up and down, over and around, through a loop and crossed in the center.
    Then I felt a dead, suffocating weight on top on me.
    I can’t breathe. Help me. Please. I’m going to die.
    “Eddie? Eddie!” My whisper was urgent. I couldn’t stand to feel him there . I had to get away, before I died!
    “What …what is it?” he mumbled. Then, as if he was waking up from a deep sleep, his eyes opened and he kissed me again, just the faintest touch against my swollen lips. I turned my head, wanting only to be out of that room, away from him and that horrible, pungent smell and everything that had taken place.
    “I have to go! Please, let me up!” I told him. He rolled off and away from me. Then he reached down and pulled up my panties. I froze at the touch of his hands on my skin again. I wanted to run, but my limbs refused to cooperate. Instead, I slowly got out of the bed, tiptoeing to the door.
    “Thank you,” he said from where he was lying.
    Thank you? He was thanking me? For what?
    Then he anxiously added, “You won’t say anything to anyone about this, will you?”
    I shook my head, unwittingly becoming a co-conspirator in the secrecy that would shroud my life for the next several years.
    “That’s good, because we’d both be in a lot of trouble.” The sickening sound of his voice came from somewhere behind me. It seemed to reverberate from the walls, bouncing throughout my brain.
    We’d both be in a lot of trouble …we’d both be in a lot of trouble…we’d both be in . . .
    I left his bedroom without looking back, closing the door as I did so. Going into the bathroom, I gingerly wiped myself with toilet paper, hating the feel of the wetness down there. I was horrified at the red stain on the paper, and I stared at it dumbly.
    The redness stayed there, but it made no sense.
    Instead, I saw red roses and a red house. The roses were at the bottom of four stone steps, hidden between two large Catawba trees and some shrubs at the edge of our property. I ran down the steps into the yard and lingered to touch the scarlet roses, the delicious fragrance wafting up into my nose and clinging there. I broke off some of the silky buds, bent to keep the low-hanging branches from smacking me across the face and emerged into the clearing of our yard with a small handful. I looked up to see our beautiful red brick house, bordered by my mother’s beloved lavender lilac bushes on one side, dark green rhododendrons on the other, and the row of wispy ferns that grew from a thick blanket of moss that bordered the creek far below.
    I looked down at the roses in my hand, thinking I would carry them inside for my mother, who would smile and place them in a Mason jar, when I realized they were bleeding. I looked at the roses again and saw bloody paper instead, and I closed my eyes tightly to keep from seeing it. Some part of me felt swollen and sore, but I couldn’t figure out where it was.
    Then I remembered. And realized how bad I was, to let it happen.
    What have I done?
     
    Tiptoeing up the stairs, I moved slowly so it wouldn’t hurt so much. Easing myself into the twin bed beside Kim’s, I turned toward the wall, curled up in a ball and wrapped my arms around myself.
    I’m not a virgin anymore.
    I saw myself on stage at the spelling bee, where I’d been standing a few weeks ago. I stepped up to the microphone.
    “Virgin. Your word is ‘virgin,’ not that you would know it,” a voice said.
    I hesitated,