Convincing Constance (The Blow Hole Boys)

By: Tabatha Vargo

Scars. They never really heal. The body attempts to restore you naturally, but the mind never forgets. You’re marked forever with memories, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t forget what it was that left you so broken and changed.

I was once unmarred, fresh with youth and promise, but in the blink of an eye it was all snatched away from me. I’m altered and not within reach of my old self. Even though the old me lingers just below my skin, begging for release, begging me to remember, I can’t. The memories only burn—they singe and sting flesh, bone, and brain.

False smiles get me through life. No one is able to see past my charade. No one except her. She’s somehow able to see the ghost of the boy I used to be. She’s unaware of her gift—her sixth sense. I’d never tell her that she has the ability to scar me even worse—to burn me in ways no memory ever could.

She’s unafraid of the beast I’ve become. She believes she’s able to reach the goodness in me—deep in my core. She taunts the other part of me and tempts him into making a full escape, but I’m the gatekeeper. Only I can allow his release. And I’m afraid if I ever let go, I’ll never be safe again.

I tried to lift my arms, but they were heavy. The muscle in the side of my neck pulled as I tried to lift my head. Nothing. Everything was weighty and it was then I realized that technically I couldn’t feel anything. I wasn’t in control of my body at all. I lay there and stared at the ceiling while I silently screamed.

Unfamiliar smells reached my nose and a foggy haze swept over me. Something was wrong. I was only fifteen, but I knew something was definitely wrong.

Again, I tried to move and again, nothing happened. The bed shifted and then a familiar face hovered above me. Uncle Jack. I’d called him that all my life even though he wasn’t my uncle. He wasn’t anything to me.

“It’s okay, baby. You know Uncle Jack would never let anything bad happen to you.”

I opened my mouth to say something—to tell him that everything was wrong—but only a pathetic whimper sounded. A hot tear rushed down the side of my face and he caught it with his roughened thumb.

“Shhh, just let your muscles relax and go with it.” He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Being a teenager means experimenting with drugs. This is one you’re going to love.”

His lips grazed my earlobe and I felt like puking all over him.

In my mind, I was saying no—I was screaming it so loud it almost drowned out the muffled music coming from downstairs, but the only sound that filled my room was his heavy breaths and an occasional appreciative noise.

“You’re such a pretty girl, Constance. You make Uncle Jack very happy.”

Cool air brushed my stomach as he began to undress me. I wanted to panic. I should’ve been panicking, but I couldn’t. All I could do was lie there while he touched me in ways I’d never been touched and whispered in my ears. The stench of cigarettes and vodka filled my mouth when he pressed his cracked lips to mine.

“Come on, sweet girl, open up for Uncle Jack,” he said against my mouth when I refused to open.

He pressed his bare body against mine, reminding me that I knew nothing about the male body or how it was possible for a part of them to be so hard.

I was having a terrible nightmare. I was going to wake up any minute and be alone in my room. My parents’ party would be going on downstairs, but I’d be alone. I said that to myself over and over again in my mind, but my mind shut down when his intrusion became abrupt. The spot between my legs burned and stretched. Fire filled me and I sucked in a deep breath from the pain.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

Another heated tear slipped down my cheek and I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see his face anymore.

“No, no. Keep your eyes open, sweetie,” he said as he pinched my cheeks into his fingers.

He turned my head to the side, and a camera stared me in the face. His hot tongue bathed my cheek before he sucked my earlobe into his mouth.

“That’s right, baby. Look into the camera and say cheese,” he rasped.

I closed my eyes again and shut out the world. I silently prayed that my dad would come to my room and save me. Or that my mom would, for the first time ever, help me, but nothing happened. Instead, I lay there while he slowly ripped my body in half and recorded the entire thing.

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