The Dark
Thirteen Years Later...
There was supposed to be an advantage to having a private dorm, but Darren had long since forgotten what that was. He was here at Karlson University on a scholarship. Not a full ride, but it was close enough. The scholarship had netted him a dorm and most of his tuition, at least for this quarter, and that was good news, as far as Darren was concerned. His mother had been thrilled, that's for sure. He'd outfitted it with all the latest conveniences. A cot, a mini-fridge, and a TV. That was all he needed. Most of the day was spent somewhere on campus.
He was tired. It had been a long day, and his head was pounding. English, History, Math and Spanish, all of them grueling. And then six hours at his job at the campus library, helping people who should know better find their books. Eleven hours in total. Each of them filled with too much stress. Darren sighed, slumped back into his chair and stared at the darkened television screen.
As much as part of him hated to admit it, he was getting used to living alone. It had been about three weeks since he'd gone home to see his mother. He was even starting to think of this place as home, as strange as it sounded. But he'd been "home" for almost ten minutes now, and had flipped through the channels on his television at least five times. There was nothing on. A Lifetime movie, a Steven Segal flick, and a rerun of Jerry Springer were his best options. So staring at the TV didn't seem like such a bad idea. Now he wished that he hadn't read his History chapter during lunch. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
The clock on the wall said 10:30. Darren rose, walked across the room, to a drawer in the kitchenette of his room and pulled out a small orange pill bottle. Rummaging in the other cabinets, he found a half-decent plastic glass and poured it half full of tap water. Then he twisted the cap off the pill bottle and shook a single blue and white pill into his hand. He stared at it for a moment. Then he popped the pill into his mouth and washed it down with half the glass. He gagged for a minute, then swallowed the melting capsule. His throat was coated with some kind of slime now, and he coughed a few times, looking at the glass with distaste. He closed the bottle, tossed it into the drawer and turned toward the clock again. 10:31. This night was never going to end. He stood there for a moment, clutching his glass, thinking about nothing in particular. On the sidewalk outside, he could hear people walking past.
There was no point in trying to go to bed. Not this early on a Friday night. He couldn't spend his weekend like this, though, sitting alone and brooding in his dorm room. He'd drive himself insane. He had to get out, do something. His last check had gone for new books, and his next check wouldn't be for two weeks.
In the hall on the first floor, there was a piece of orange paper on the main bulletin board, announcing a party on campus. The sign advertised music, dancing, and snacks. That meant beer, of course. Whatever. It would be better than sitting around all night. He'd go and see what was going on with the rest of the world. Maybe it would make him tired enough to sleep when he got home.
Darren's room was in Cadwell Hall on the West side of campus, and the party was supposed to be across campus, on the East side. It was Autumn, and the ten-minute walk across campus to the other dorm was nice enough. The cool, fresh air felt good to Darren after being stuck inside all afternoon. As he neared the dorm, he could see several cars parked on the lawn. There were people outside, drinking and smoking. He passed them and headed for the entrance to the dorm. There was music blaring inside, and someone had set up a strobe light for some reason or another. He opened the doors and stepped inside.
The atmosphere hit him the second the door closed behind him, and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him as he entered the double doors. There were tons of people here. The place was packed, and had been for some time, judging from the mist of smoke that hung in the main lobby. All over, Karlson students were drinking, smoking, chatting about various things. There was a couple making out on a bench near the bathroom. Darren took it all in in a matter of seconds.
Most of the people here were girls, he noticed. Almost identical, he thought, clad in their tight shirts and bluejeans, sporting too much perfume and not enough makeup. He'd have banged a couple of them, given the chance, but not much else. Besides, there was little chance of that happening, so it was a moot point.
The rest of the partiers consisted of a couple of jocks and some potheads. No one he knew. Not that he knew many people here at Karlson. This was more of the usual, Darren realized, and he decided to pass it up, continuing past the crush of people in the lobby into the main hall. There was more drinking here. Students were huddled along the walls, beers in hand. The snippets of conversation he caught as he passed wouldn't have interested a caveman. For a moment he wondered why he'd bothered to come here. He still wasn't sure. He'd just needed to get out. But why the hell had he come here? He hated crowds. The sensation of being in a crowd tended to overwhelm him. It had been that way ever since he could remember. Tonight was no exception. The buzzing of the voices and laughter was too much for him to take right now. He veered up the stairs at the end of the hall and headed upstairs, past the second floor, and up the staircase to the third.
The third floor was much quieter. The lights had been turned out, and the air here was at least breathable. He passed a door on his left, standing open a little, slowed, peered inside, and saw that the room was occupied. He kept walking down the hall. There was a window at the end, and he wondered what the view was like. He reached the window and was treated to a view of more students outside on the lawn, drinking and smoking. Wonderful, he thought. And then he heard it. So soft he wasn't sure he had, but there it was again. A choked sob. He turned, looking back down the hall, and focused on the door across from him. There was someone in the room. He could hear the sobbing again now. Darren hesitated for a minute, and then his hand went to the doorknob, and he opened the door and peered into the room.
There was a girl sitting on the bed, her back to the door. She was wearing a white blouse and jeans. Darren looked back out into the hall for a moment, then back at the girl. Her shoulders was slumped. There was no doubt about it. She was crying. He could see her little shoulders heaving now. He stood there for a moment, watching her, and then he closed the door. She didn't turn.
"Excuse me", he said.
The girl didn't turn around.
"Are you ok?" he asked her.
She turned toward him, and he knew in a heartbeat that she wasn't. She was blonde, with big, blue eyes and a cute little upturned nose, and at any other point in time, easily could have been considered beautiful. But Darren hated what he saw right now. Her face was red and wet, and she had the beginnings of a bruise over her right eye. He could see that her lip had been bleeding, and that her face was sticky with the hint of recent tears. It glistened in the little light that was coming through the window. She shifted on the bed, and Darren turned his gaze downward and saw that her clothes were rumpled, as if she'd thrown them on. Indeed, her belt was hanging open, and her shirt was torn at the bottom. The girl's chest was rising and falling beneath her shirt as she looked at him. Was she wearing no bra? He didn't want to stare, but he couldn't make one out beneath her shirt. It was obvious what had happened. He sucked in a breath as he looked around what he assumed was her room. The bed was made, and the room was neat and clean, a teenage girl's paradise. Whatever had happened to her, and he had his suspicions, he knew it hadn't been here.
Darren stood there for a moment, looking at her, and then he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. The girl looked up at him with a mournful expression. As he got closer, he could smell her. She was wearing strong perfume, a hint of jasmine, and there was something else in the air. He tried not to think about it. Tried to focus on the fact that there was a girl sitting there with tears streaming down her face. He tried not to look down.
"Are you all right?" he asked, even though he knew the answer.
"Do I look like I'm all right?"
There was nothing he could say to that. Darren stood there for a minute, looking down at her, searching for an answer to this situation. He couldn't find one. All he could see was this beautiful girl sitting on the bed, her shoulders slumped, shaking ever so slightly, her face wet with tears. And she did look beautiful, even like this. A thought occured to him, and he hated himself for not dismissing it as soon as it came to him. But there was a gorgeous girl right there in front of him. He was alone with her, far from the bustle of the party. All he'd have to do was lean forward and put his hands on her and she'd be his. She certainly didn't look like she'd be able to put up much of a struggle. The girl watched him, and he wondered if she knew what he was thinking. What was he thinking? Darren could feel anger rising up inside of him, and he pushed it back down, willed himself to think about a solution, not about what he had almost done.
"How can I help?" he asked.
The girl looked up at him, and her green eyes burned into him. There was a fire in them. "You can't", she said in a whisper. But he knew she was wrong. He knew he could. He just didn't want to do it. He didn't want to ask her what had happened. He could see it in her eyes. And he didn't want to touch her, because he wasn't sure how she'd react. Worse, he wasn't sure how he'd react. Being this close to her was almost intoxicating. He was holding himself back, he knew. Holding back from doing something to her that he'd regret later. He watched as the girl rolled over on her side now, almost curling up in a ball. She squeezed her eyes shut, and he saw a tear rolling down her cheek. "Hurts", she said in a choked whisper, and for the first time, he knew she wasn't talking about what had been done to her body. The girl lowered her head to her chest and he heard her sniffling again.
"I know", Darren said. "I know." And he did. For a moment, he could feel her pain inside him, and he could see deeper than he'd ever seen into someone before. He could feel her sinking lower with each passing moment, her wind wandering to the events of the past few hours, to her, now uncertain future. And he locked eyes with her. The girl stared into his eyes, and Darren stared right back. And he felt himself slipping into her, and in an instant he knew, knew what had happened, why it hurt so badly, and he was so foolish, so foolish, he thought, for believing that hers was a physical pain. He let it come for a moment, let himself feel the brunt of her situation, and it hammered at his senses. And she knew. He could see that in her eyes. There was a light in them now, a light of what, he thought. Hope? He hoped so. Because seeing her in pain hurt. It hurt so bad.
He wanted to help her. He wanted to help her so much. But there was nothing he could do. He knew he had no words that could make her feel better. The girl was starting into another set of sobbing. Darren couldn't stand it any longer. He reached down and laid his trembling right hand on the girl's shoulder. She was warm and soft. Her skin was almost hot to the touch. She shivered, and he felt something inside him shifting. The girl stiffened at his touch, and then he felt her relax. He looked at her, and she was looking into his eyes again. She leaned forward, and for a moment he thought she was going to kiss him, but instead, she fell forward onto his chest, her slender arms going around his back, pulling him to her in a desperate hug. He let his own arms go around her and pulled her close, willing her to feel better. She sighed, her head resting on his shoulder as he squeezed her tight. He could feel her relaxing. Her weight was resting on him now. And then whatever it was, was over, and she pulled back from him, and something else was happening now, and he felt his strength leaving him, felt his head going light. She looked puzzled as Darren sank down onto the floor, resting on his haunches, his arms and legs having gone light now. His limbs were tingling, and he didn't think he could move them if his life depended on it.
The girl looked down at him. "Are you ok?"
He shook his head. It was hard to focus. "I don't know. I think so. Give me a minute."
She nodded, and he watched as she messed with her t-shirt. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. Was it her perfume doing this to him? Something else about her? No, it couldn't be. Her perfume wasn't this strong. And he wasn't turned on, he was weak. Was he weak over her? He didn't know, and a wave of something strong and dark washed over him, making his head spin. The girl reached down with her right hand and laid it on his shoulder, and he knew he had to get out of there. He looked at her and saw that she was smiling. Smiling because of him? Who was she? Where the hell was he? What was going on? What was he doing here?
"I wish the lights were on", she said. "I can't see you very well."
Darren stood, his legs shaking a little, hoping she couldn't see that. He looked down at her for a minute, and then sighed.
"What are you doing?" she said.
He looked up at the door. There was light in the hall now. Suddenly, the darkness in this room was stifling. Being so close to her was stifling.
"I have to go", he said.
"No", she said. "Please don't go."
He reached down, and her hand found his. Her hand was warm, and he felt her squeeze. He couldn't do this. He couldn't let this go much further, whatever it was. He had the strong sense that it wasn't real. And even if it was, something in the room terrified him.
"It's all right", he said, his voice little more than a whisper. "It's going to be all right. You're going to be ok." The girl looked puzzled as Darren looked at her for a second, sitting on the bed in the shadow. And then he walked past her, to the door, and was gone.
Half an hour later, he stood in the shower letting the hot water pound him, running down his back and chest to trickle onto the shower floor. He was thinking about her. He'd been thinking about her, about her body, about her face, about what she would be like, since he'd left. In his mind, he could see her, as clear as ever. He could imagine what touching her, holding her, would be like. And he liked it. It was comforting. He didn't even know her. And those thoughts he'd had while he was with her. What the hell was wrong with him? She had been hurt. Scared. And he'd wanted to **** he?. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't true, but he knew it was. He had. He'd wanted to take her and **** her senseless, whether she wanted it or not, and she'd just been raped, for God's sake. He felt something stirring inside, and the familiar warmth, and cursed himself for his weakness. As good as it would feel to let go, he couldn't do this. Not tonight. Not thinking about her like this, in pain and terrified. He reached up with his right hand and turned off the hot water.
He was shaking all over when he returned to his room. The wet towel around his waist fell to the foor and he stumbled toward the bed, feeling his legs give out under him. He collapsed on the side of the bed and lay there, looking up at the ceiling. And then it came. It had happened before, the attacks, but this time was unbearable. The pain was so bad. Darren rolled over on his side, hoping it would stop. It didn't. He took a deep breath and pulled his knees up to his chest, almost curling up in a ball, but still it bore into him. There was no escape. He was going to die right here, his head was going to explode. And worse, he didn't care. He wanted to die. He wanted the pain to end. A new wave of darkness washed over him, and Darren shuddered, trembling with fear at the new sensations. He'd known them since he was ten years old, but never this extreme. His mother had taken him to a psychiatrist when he was eleven, and he'd been diagnosed with depression, or something along those lines. But he knew differently. He didn't know what it was, but right now, he knew it was worse than it had ever been. A second wave hit him like a sledgehammer, and pain lanced through him. He couldn't feel. He couldn't ****ing feel. He couldn't feel, but it hurt so bad. Memories were flooding back to him, things he thought he'd forgotten. People he'd known, things he'd seen, situations he'd been in. Girls he'd known in high school. People he'd used, people who had used him. People who had hurt him. He remembered the fights with his friends in elementary school. All his failures in Junior High and High School and since. Friends he'd lost. People he'd hurt. People who had hurt him. He could remember it all, as if it had just happened. The sensations were getting stronger now. His mind was going. He'd never felt anything like this. He didn't know what to do. The obvious solution wouldn't be one at all. He'd have to ride this out and see where it went. Trembling, his muscles tight, he closed his eyes and prayed for an end to the pain as the darkness descended upon him.
