“Thanks.”
And with that, the door opened, and one of Billy's friends walked in. “Christ, what did you do to her?” Tana still hadn't moved, although she could hear their voices somewhere far, far away.
“No big deal.” Billy shrugged. “Her old lady is my father's hired cunt.”
The other boy laughed. “Looks like one of you had a good time at least.” It was impossible not to see the sea of blood beneath her on the gray carpeting. “She got her period?”
“I guess.” Billy seemed unconcerned as he zipped his pants and she still lay there with her legs spread like a rag doll's, while his friend looked down at her. Billy bent over and slapped her face. “Come on, Tan, get up.” She didn't move, and he went into the bathroom, wet a towel and dropped it on her, as though she would know what to do with it, but it was another ten minutes before she slowly rolled over in her own mire and threw up. And he grabbed her by the hair again as the other boy watched, and Billy yelled at her. “Shit, don't do that here, you little pig.” He pulled her roughly to her feet and dragged her into the bathroom where she hung over the bowl, and then finally, reached over and slammed the door. It seemed hours before she could revive herself and there were jagged sobs in her throat. Her cab was long since gone and she had missed the last train, but more than that something hideous had happened to her that she knew she would never recover from. She had been raped. She was shaking from head to foot, trembling violently, her teeth were chattering, her mouth was dry, her head ached, and she couldn't begin to figure out how she was ever going to leave the house. Her dress was torn, her shoes were smeared with blood, and as she sat in the bathroom crouching on the floor, the door opened and Billy strode into the room and threw some things at her. She saw a moment later that it was a dress and a pair of shoes that were some of Ann's things. He looked at Tana tentatively now, and she could see how drunk he was. “Get dressed. I'll take you home.”
“And then what?” She suddenly screamed at him. “How do you explain to your father about this?” She was hysterical and he glanced behind him into the room.
“About the rug?” He looked nervous now and she got totally hysterical.
“About me!”
“That's not my fault, you little tease.” The horror of what he was saying to her made her even sicker than she was before, but suddenly all she wanted to do was get out of there, and she didn't care if she had to walk back to New York. She suddenly pushed past him, clutching the clothes to her, and dashed into the room where the rape had taken place. Her eyes were wild, her hair matted and tangled, her face streaked with tears, and she bolted naked from the room and smack into his friend, who laughed at her nervously.
“You and Billy had a good time, huh?” He laughed at her and wild-eyed, she ran past him, and into a bathroom she knew was there. She pulled on the clothes he had given her, and she ran downstairs. It was too late to catch a train, no point to call a cab. She saw that the musicians were gone, and she ran down the driveway, leaving her torn dress and her handbag behind, but she didn't give a damn. She just wanted to get away from there. She could hitchhike if she had to, stop a police car … anything … the tears were caked on her face, and she was breathing hard as she began to run, and then suddenly bright headlights shone on her and she ran harder knowing instinctively that he was coming after her. She could hear his tires on the gravel road, and she began to dart in and out of the trees, crying softly, as the tears rolled into her hair, as he honked the horn and shouted at her.
“Come on, I'll take you home.”
She didn't answer him. She just kept running as fast as she could, but he wouldn't go away. He just kept driving after her, zigzagging, following her course on the deserted road until finally she turned and screamed hysterically at him. “Leave me alone!” She stood bent over in the road, crying, sobbing, hugging her knees, and slowly he got out of the car and walked toward her. The night air was beginning to sober him, and he looked different than he had before, no longer crazed, but gray and grim, and he had brought his friend along, who was silently watching them from the passenger seat of Billy's long, sleek, dark green XKE.
“I'll drive you home.” He stood in the road, legs spread, the car headlights behind him glaring eerily at them. “Come on, Tan.”
“Don't call me that.” She looked like a frightened little girl. He had never even been her friend, and now … and now … she wanted to scream each time she thought of it, but now she couldn't even scream anymore, and she no longer had the strength to run away from him. Her whole body ached, her head pounded, there was dried blood over her face and on her thighs, and now she stared blankly at him, stumbling along the road, as he reached out and tried to grab her arm, and she screamed at him and darted away again. He stood and stared at her for a moment, and then got back in the car and drove off. He had offered to take her home, if she didn't want to go, to hell with her, and she stumbled along the road, aching from head to foot. Not twenty minutes later he was back again. He screeched to a halt beside her, got out, and grabbed her by the arm. She saw that the other boy was no longer in the car, and suddenly she wondered if he was going to rape her again. A wave of terror ran through her as he pulled her toward the car, and she pulled away, but this time he jerked her hard and shouted at her, and she could smell whiskey on his breath again.
“Goddammit, I told you I'd take you home. Now get in the fuckin' car!” He almost threw her onto the seat, and she realized that there was no arguing with him. She was alone with him, and he would do whatever he wanted with her. She had already learned that. She sat bleakly beside him in the XKE, and he roared off into the night, as she waited for him to take her somewhere else to rape her again, it all seemed so hopeless now. But he got on the highway, sank his foot to the floor, and the breeze whipping through the car seemed to sober both of them. He glanced over at her several times, and waved at a box of tissues on the floor. “You'd better clean yourself up before you go home.”
“Why?” She looked straight ahead at the empty road. It was after two o'clock, and even her eyes felt numb. Only a few trucks went whizzing by, driving straight through the night.
“You can't go home like that.” She didn't answer him, and she didn't turn to look at his face. She still half expected him to stop and try to rape her again, and this time she was expecting it. She would run as fast as she could, across the highway if she dared and maybe one of the trucks would stop. She still couldn't believe what he had done to her, and she was wondering now if it had somehow been her fault, had she not fought him hard enough, had she done something to encourage him … ? they were hideous thoughts as she noticed the powerful sports car begin to weave. She turned and glanced at him, and noticed that he was falling asleep at the wheel. She jerked on his sleeve, and he started and looked at her. “Why the hell'd you do that? You could've caused an accident.” She would have liked nothing better for him. She would have liked to see him lying dead by the side of the road.