Posted by Barbanne on July 11, 2002 at 23:48:50:
PART TWENTY NINE
I told Alex I was taking Sherry home. He said OK but he looked at me strangely.
I bundled Sherry into my clunker and we drove around to her place.
She lived in an old apartment building, on the third floor, all walk up. The stairwell smelt of things I didn't want to think about and the walls were graffitied here and there and where they weren't they had been very obviously cleaned several times.
She slipped her key into the lock and saying, "Please Barb I can deal with this," she let us in.
I pushed past her saying, "This has to stop Sherry and I'm going to see it does."
The place looked shabby but neat, like it had been cleaned over and over. Despite this it was obvious a slob lived here. Papers were strewn around and an ash tray on the coffee table overflowed with butts and empty beer cans lay on their sides in pools of sticky spilt liquid. Items of a man's clothing were scattered about.
A voice came from the rooms beyond, "Shelly that you? Shelly I'm ready for you babe."
He called her Shelly. It was a nice name I thought.
Sherry gripped my arm and whispered, "Please leave Barb."
"No," I said.
Roddy appeared, at least I guessed it was Roddy. He was a big guy, a head taller than me or Sherry and he was dressed in a filthy tee shirt and nothing else and he was very, very drunk and he was also hugely erect.
"Hey Shell, I'm ready for you sister, see how ready for you I am?"
Then he saw me.
"Who's this Shell? You brought me some snatch? Who's the cunt Shell?"
"Listen Roddy," I said, "I'm here to tell you that your abuse of your sister is over you rotten woman beater. So get some clothes on and get out of here or I'm calling the cops right now."
He blinked owlishly and looked at Sherry.
Who's this little cunt Shell?"
"Don't call me a cunt you bastard. Your bashing days are over you shithead."
He shook his head and blinked again and his face went red and erupted with rage. He advanced on me.
"Please Roddy," said Sherry, "we just want to talk, sort this out."
"Shut up," he shouted and backhanded Sherry in the chest knocking her down.
"Who do you think you are bitch," he shouted at me, "stupid interfering cow! Bitch! Cunt! CUNT!"
"Don't you touch me or I'm calling the cops," I shouted.
"Call them then bitch, won't be the first time eh Shell?"
He was advancing, I was backing away. I couldn't believe it but he was even bigger now than before.
"Do't touch me Roddy, don't touch me," I was screaming now.
He thrust out a big hand and grabbed my dress and shook me and then shoved me backward. It was a very short dress and I felt it ride halfway up my bum. My back slammed against a cupboard and something like a handle stabbed into my kidney sending a jolt of pain through me.
"Fucking bitch," Roddy said in a gust of beery breath, "reckon I'll fuck you then."
"Roddy, let me go. Don't touch me," I was pleading now.
Still gripping the top of my dress he slapped me hard across the face knocking my glasses off of my face and snapping my head to the left.
"Let me go you drunken brute, let me go."I could hear myself and I sounded wimpy. Why hadn't I bought Alex? Why had I thought I could handle this"
Roddy smashed his free hand into my tummy and I folded up. He dragged me up again and my dress ripped. He slammed me back against the cupboard again and my head cracked into the hard surface.
"Let me go Roddy let me go, please."
I was pleading now, snivelling.
Roddy hit me again, his fist crashing into my forehead and everything went blurry and dim.
He jerked the hand holding me and my dress parted all the way down the front.
He punched me in the head again and the pain was awful. My head slumped on my neck and I saw blood all over my bra and what remained of my dress. He hit me in the tummy and my knees buckled and despite being held by Roddy I went down. The remnants of my dress ripped away altogether. Roddy kicked me and I felt something snap inside me. I was no longer pleading, just snivelling and slobbering and crying. Blood seemed to be everywhere.
Roddy kicked me once more and then he was gone.
I lay against the cupboard sobbing.
I touched my face and it screamed with agony. My hand came away covered in blood. I dragged myself to the kitchen door and hooked a tea towel off of a rail. I pressed it to my face and when I took it away it was half drenched in blood. Deep, red blood. My blood.
Sherry was beside me whimpering, moaning, saying, "Barb, oh Barb," over and over.
"Get the cops." I said.
"Oh Barb, I can't. He's my brother I can't."
"Sherry," I said and I felt dreadfully tired, "Sherry just get the cops."
I think then I must have gone out.
When I came back I felt like I had been run over by a Mack truck. I hurt everywhere it was possible to hurt. I was on my back and I was all but naked. (I think I still had my panties on) Two green suited ambulance people were working over me. There were uniformed cops in the room and Alex was there.
One of the ambulance people, a girl about my age said, "You'll have to wait to talk to her. You can ride with us if you want."
A cop, floating up there somewhere said "OK."
Alex said, "Barb, Barb, Barb."
Fuck it I was just too tired.
They caught Roddy lurking downstairs. Beating me had sort of sobered him up and he was in custody and would be staying there for quite a while. My face had ballooned and was puffy and shiny and my left eye was swollen shut. I had three cracked ribs and had bled inside a bit. From the top of my head to my knees I was one black and blue bruise.
Other than that I was OK.
I spent two days in hospital and a week in Alex's care.
At the end of that time I came back to the reception desk. I needed something to do.
The others at Playdead had been told I crashed my car. Considering it wasn't scratched that must have confused them.
I couldn't hate Sherry and she insisted on coming in all the time and doing most of the grunt work behind the scenes.
It was my fault, all my fault.
Always butting in where I wasn't wanted, I had brought it on myself.
Would I never learn?
Sometimes I hate the fucking world.
Candice had visited me while I was in hospital. She knew I would need help. My crystal thin ego had been shattered again and she felt that I might regress into depression and self harm. I assured her that I wouldn't but she scheduled me for twice weekly visits and intensive therapy. It helped.
The worst thing was that although, as I've told you repeatedly, I fantasise submissiveness and it is a huge part of my sexual life, nonetheless in other things I like to obtain a measure of self worth and success and now I realised that despite the lip service paid to the women's revolution and the apparent success it had bought others, I was still very much second best. The control I had sought to bring to Sherry's situation had been brushed aside as eaily as I had been. I was physically weak and even blind viciousness had been too much for me and I had no answer to it. As a result I had been savagely beaten and made to feel like a poor loser. This set me to thinking and I realised that even as the first among equals at Playdead I was still very much the second officer. Alex controlled what happened and in every clash we had he had emerged on top. Oh sure, sometimes I had weaseled to get my way but I had never fooled him for one minute.
I felt worthless and contemplated getting out and starting again.
But I knew deep inside me that if I took that path I'd soon be back in the underworld where I was merely female flesh for consumption.
I determined to make a go of it.
I was out of modelling for a while but I was going to succeed as receptionist/script writer and ideas girl.
I was going to work harder at my therapy too.
Sadly however the attack had damage me more deeply than I could immediately understand and I had become very weepy. I would start crying at odd times and for no reason and when I did my eyes just leaked and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. The others pretended not to notice but I could feel their sympathy and it was like a layer of sweet sticky goo and made me feel worse.
I had to fight this.
I had to win.
I threw myself into work with a will, creating heaps of new projects.