Close to panic, I looked back the way I had come; the tunnel behind me stretched away, a throat.
Then his gaze was gone, torn away by his impatience. He was talking again, mumbling to himself, and it was in his voice, the eagerness.
“Yes, yes, yes. Oh yes . . .”
His fingers moved on her. I heard fabric tear and walked closer. His voice swelled up as her purple dress was ripped away. It spread beneath her, torn wings, and above it, in the light, her body shone like cold marble. His voice rose and fell, a chant, a crazy man’s ditty.
“Thank you, Lord. Thank you. Yes. So long, so long, so long. Oh, my sweet, sweet Lord . . .”
He moved between us, his back to me, so that I saw her face and the bottoms of her legs. Again fabric tore and I heard his voice.
“Ohhh . . .”
It was a moan. Her panties floated past me on silent water. I looked down and watched them, blue daisies on a field of black—eyes staring in the dark. They drifted against my leg, spun away, and were gone, down the wet throat behind me.
I tore my eyes up, realizing how close I’d come, no more than twenty feet away, the light touching me. Her eyes were open and staring. Her mouth, too, gaped and I saw where he’d beaten her. Her lips twitched and a low gurgle escaped. Her fingers fluttered in my direction; then he struck her again, and her lips didn’t move after that. Her eyes were still open but showed mostly white. I felt anger and I nursed it, needing it. It made me strong.
My foot touched something beneath the water and I knew what it was.
I reached down, my fingers closing on a rock the size of a baby’s skull. . . .
I stared at the light that spilled from Vanessa’s house, but it didn’t drive the images away; so I closed my eyes, rubbed at them, fearing that I might start to tear at them instead.
I raised the rock over my head and took another step, expecting him to turn and see me, to come for me, too. But he didn’t. All he saw was the girl.
Another step, and the fear rose alongside the anger; and it was stronger. He would kill us both. I saw that. I should have gone for my father. This man was huge and he was crazy and he would kill us. He would kill us sure as shit. I was about to turn and run. Already I was beginning to accept it. Beginning to turn away.
Then he moved. And I saw her, a marble statue on a concrete pedestal. . . .
She was perfect.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I’d never seen a naked girl before, not like that. Not a real one. I felt funny looking at her, ashamed and dirty, but I couldn’t stop. And I noticed that my feet weren’t moving. The rock felt loose in my hand, my head light on my shoulders. My breathing went funny, and she seemed to rush at me, until she filled my eyes. I looked at her breasts and then down to the soft blond hair that filled the space between her legs. I’d forgotten the man, my danger, everything but her, spread on that altar. It was only a few seconds but felt longer, and all I did was stare.
Then he moved, dirty fingers on her stomach, moving down, like snakes into a nest; then he was on her, grunting like an animal, baked-bean teeth dark on her pale and helpless breasts.
I couldn’t move.
Then I saw her eyes, and I saw that there was nothing in them; and in that emptiness, I found myself again. My hand tightened; the rock came up.
I walked into the light. I took two steps before I saw his face, and his crazy eyes. They were on me. Right on me! And his lips were pulled back over those pudding teeth, and he was smiling, his body still pumping, like a separate animal. And his words, when he spoke, they penetrated me.
“You like what you see, don’t you, boy?”
I froze.
“I seen you watchin’.”
Red filled his eyes, making him less than human. But his body continued to move. Up and down. Up and down. Grunt. Grunt. Grunt. Eyes like grease on my face. And again that terrible smile. He knew.
“Well, get a good look boy . . . ’cause you’re next.”