Fat Tuesday(103)

"Associated with your fear of suffocation?"

He felt her nod.

One didn't have to think about it too long and hard to figure it out.

"What happened to you?"

She took so long to answer he thought she was going to ignore the question. But then she did begin to speak, haltingly."I was twelve.

He was one of Angel's regulars. I had learned at a very early age that when a man was in the house I was to keep still and quiet. Not to cry.

Not to whine. Not to ask for anything or draw attention to myself. I tried to make myself as small as possible, first to avoid punishment, then later to avoid being noticed. I wished to be invisible so they wouldn't look at me.

"But this one wouldn't let me ignore him. He always placed himself in my path, teased me, made remarks to Angel about me that I didn't understand at first, then came to understand too well "One night she brought him home with her after work. It was very late, and I was already asleep, but their laughter woke me up. They were high, of course, and continued their party without paying any attention to me.

Eventually they passed out in Angel's bed, and I went back to sleep.

"I'm not sure how much time passed. If I'd come awake sooner, I could have fought him off and run out of the apartment. But when I woke up, he was already on me, holding my arms above my head. I was wearing a T-shirt and panties. He had pushed my shirt up and covered my face with it."

Burke closed his eyes and lay perfectly still.

Several moments elapsed before she continued in a faraway voice, "I had just begun to develop. My breasts were tender. He ... he was I whispering ... horrible things. His breath smelled bad, and his fingers [ pinched, and I couldn't breathe. He pushed his hand inside my underwear and ... Well, he was hurting me. I tried to call out, but my face was covered and I couldn't breathe."

Gasping again, she laid her left hand on her chest. Gradually, her rising panic subsided."Angel woke up and saw what he was doing.

She raised a ruckus and threw him out."

"Did she report him, have him arrested?"

Simultaneously they turned their heads toward each other. Remy gave him a strange look."Angel wasn't angry at him. She was angry at me.

I got a lashing for luring her boyfriend into my bed."

"Jesus Christ."

"I was lucky she woke up before he could do more than fondle me.

Actually the episode gave her the idea of putting me to work.

I guess she saw more earning potential from a child prostitute than a child pickpocket. She never actually shared the idea with me, but I knew what she was thinking. I'd catch her watching me with a thoughtful, speculative expression.

"After that night, I began sleeping with a butcher knife. I cut two of her friends and threatened several more. But I knew that it was only a matter of time before one of them raped me.

"Then Angel got pregnant. She was furious because she didn't realize she was pregnant until too late to have an abortion. As her pregnancy progressed, she dealt more drugs to make up for the lost income from dancing and ... the other. When Flarra was born, she put me in charge of the baby so she could go back to work. She never got around to implementing her plans for me. I was lucky."

"Wasn't any of this ever reported? Where were the child protection people?"

"An agent from social services came around regularly." Wryly, she added, "She bought drugs from Angel until the agency found out and fired her. They never assigned a replacement."

Burke covered his eyes with his right forearm. A good part of his childhood he'd been without a father, but, as he recalled, the main challenges facing him had been to get his homework turned in on time and to keep his half of the room he shared with Joe reasonably straight to avoid a lecture from their mother, who was affectionate and attentive even though she had to work very hard to support them.

Remy had faced daily challenges just to survive. The creep who'd fondled her when she was twelve years old had left her with a legacy of nightmares, a pathological fear of suffocation, and self consciousness. The story explained why she frequently crossed her arms over her breasts.

But that didn't gel. She wore low-cut dresses and outfits that emphasized her bosom.

Lowering his arm, he sat up and looked down at her."Why'd you tell me that story? Did you make it up so I'd feel sorry for you?"

"It's the truth, but I don't care whether or not you believe a word of it."

"So long as it kept me off you, right?"

"Go to hell," she said angrily.

That was the first time he'd ever heard her use even a mild curse and it stunned him into a more rational frame of mind. He believed her story. Three times he'd seen her panic when her breathing was hampered.

Besides, who could have invented such a tale? It was too horrific not to be true.

Slightly mollified, he asked, "Okay, why'd you tell me?"

"Because you're the man who has me handcuffed," she shot back.

"I've been a victim. I didn't like it. I refuse to be your victim, Mr. Basile."

"Have I harmed you?"

"Harmed me?" she repeated on an incredulous laugh."You don't understand anything, do you? For a street-savvy narcotics officer, you're not very smart. No, you haven't beat me, or raped me, or starved me, or physically hurt me. But, after this, do you really think a man as fastidious as Pinkie will have me back?"