Beyond by Katie May

7

Bianaca

Stepping through the tunnel was like diving into a deep pool of blistering hot water. Immediately, the light stabbed at my arms, the pain intense and sudden, and I scratched at my skin with a groan of pain. My hand slipped from Kace’s as pure white light replaced the darkness I’d almost grown accustomed to. It blinded me, my eyes stinging as if I’d stared into the sun too long, and more and more pain radiated down my arms.

A strangled gasp escaped me as I finally exited the tunnel of light, landing on my knees on a surface that was most definitely not rocky dirt.

No, it was white, the tiles polished so meticulously, I could see my reflection in them—my disheveled blonde hair, my too pale face, and my sunken cheekbones.

The room was also familiar.

I blinked, attempting to allow my eyes to adjust to the dim waiting room I’d fallen into. Kace landed with a grunt beside me, his red hair falling haphazardly into his face. Only Heath remained on his feet, his eyes shrewd and calculating as he surveyed the room we’d landed in.

Plastic chairs sat in the center of the room, two rows of five. A drinking fountain sat behind the chairs on a slightly raised dais, its steel siding beginning to rust with age. Directly adjacent to the fountain was a makeshift locker room—nothing but cubbies to hold the girls’ belongings and a single bench. Bathrooms were visible to the left.

On the other side of the small waiting area was a door that I knew led to offices. The tiles transitioned into wooden boards, and a single desk blocked the way to the cubicles resting inside. There was also a tiny store that sold everything from stylish leotards to shorts and scrunchies.

In front of the chairs were glass windows that looked into a gymnasium. The corrugated walls were painted a hideous brown-yellow and had only a few windows looking into the parking lot. The ceiling curved steeply upwards, resembling that of a warehouse instead of a gym, and was covered in multiple fans, all swirling rapidly to provide the stuffy room with circulation. Blue mats littered the ground, along with six balance beams—three only a couple inches off the ground—and bars with a foam pit beneath them.

Victory Gymnastics, the gym I’d been going to since I was a little girl. The gym I sold my soul to train at, forgoing a car in order to pay for my lessons.

“What are we doing here?” My voice trembled ever so slightly, especially when Heath whipped his head in my direction, one eyebrow raised.

“You recognize this place?” His nose wrinkled with distaste at the familiar, sweaty smell.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “It’s where I train,” I explained, turning to address the room at large. Maria hugged her arms around her chest, her green eyes wide in her face, while Kelly and her men simply blinked at me wordlessly. Beau took a step closer, as if he meant to comfort me, but I immediately backed away.

Instinctively, I reached towards the hand nearest to mine, clasping it tightly and giving it a squeeze. His hand tightened around mine almost imperceptibly, his rings brushing against my skin.

Aiden.

“Why are we here?” he demanded, his tone acerbic. He threw accusatory eyes at Heath, as if the brown-haired class president held all the answers. I was beginning to believe he did.

My distrust for him grew exponentially by the second, until I feared I would explode from the sensation. Still, I didn’t focus on him—or anyone, really—as I stared intently through the windows at the gymnasium I knew would be stifling hot and humid.

“What does this have to do with lust?” I whispered, my voice shaking. Aiden’s hand tightened around mine once before he gave it a squeeze and released it. I wanted to cry out, to beg him to take it back, but he was already stalking towards Heath, stabbing one finger into his chest and glaring at the other man with so much anger, I feared Heath would incinerate.

Instead, the crazy man just continued flashing that same disarming smile, only this time, there was the slightest tightening of skin around the corners of his mouth.

“Why do you think I have all the answers?” Heath questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

Aiden growled. “Don’t you?”

“I mean, I think Bianaca in a leotard is hot as fuck,” Tanner piped in, ignoring the livid glare Beau threw his way. “But I’m pretty sure Kelly isn’t imagining our girl in a leotard at night while she gets herself off.”

Caleb looked seconds away from strangling him. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”

“Awww. How adorable.” Tanner offered him a sharp-toothed grin before turning towards Kace, who was nearest to him. “He’s standing up for his girlfriend. I think my heart just threw up a teeny tiny bit.”

“She’s not my—”

“These circles,” Heath interrupted, forcing all eyes back on him, “often show the aspects of ourselves we choose not to look at too closely. Or in this case, the side of lust that is dangerous and wicked. The side that drives people to do despicable acts.” He turned those dark eyes onto me, though for once, he wasn’t smiling. “You need to face your monsters, doll, or we’ll all be stuck here.”

“No.” I was shaking my head before he’d even finished speaking. “No. I won’t.”

I couldn’t.

Not when the pain was too raw, too real, too prominent. It stabbed at something deep inside of me, something already gushing blood, until my hands were covered in the thick, red liquid. My heart shattered, every piece cutting up my insides like glass.

In my peripheral, I noticed Beau had gone deathly still, his face draining of all color. A tiny crease appeared between his eyes as if he was sifting through his memories, remembering…

“No!” I pushed past Heath and stormed into the gymnasium. The door slammed shut behind me.

Through the glass separating the lobby from the gym, I watched Aiden storm towards the door and pull at the handle.

But the door didn’t budge.

“B, let us in,” he growled out. “Stop fucking around.”

“I didn’t lock the door, asshole.” I felt ridiculous, like a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum. But what Heath wanted me to face…

I couldn’t do it.

I wasn’t strong enough, brave enough, drunk enough. I couldn’t bare myself to all of these people, all of these strangers. Not yet.

Beau placed one hand against the glass, his face a mask of agony, and I resisted the urge to cross to him and place my hand over his. Instead, I moved towards the door, tugging at the handle.

Locked.

“What the hell…?” I murmured, pulling it again.

“Bianaca…” There was a warning in Aiden’s voice, telling me he would spank the shit out of me if I didn’t get the door opened.

“It’s locked on your side,” I called to him, and I heard the distinct sound of him pulling at the handle repeatedly. And then the sound of him throwing his body against the wood.

“What the fuck is going on?” I knew his question wasn’t directed at me.

Ice cold fear gripped my heart, squeezing until I felt all of it rush to my toes and fingers. I swayed slightly, dizziness threatening to overtake me, as terror stilled my lungs. I could barely breathe, barely think straight.

“Heath?” My voice was scarcely a whisper.

“You need to face this yourself, doll.” There was no humor in his words, no wicked amusement. His solemn tone had the hairs on my arms standing at attention. “If you can face this, we can leave.”

“And if I don’t?” I asked, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

Heath didn’t answer, but then again, he didn’t have to.

If I didn’t face this, then we were as good as dead.

Would I be forced to relive that dreadful moment? Replay it on a continuous loop? Would everyone see what Dylan did to me? The way he forced me down and—

“Little ssssister…” The voice resembled a snake hissing, and I couldn’t help but visualize a forked tongue slithering out of the reptile’s mouth.

Fear held me immobile, threatening to consume me completely.

On the other side of the glass, I could hear the others banging on the door, throwing chairs against the impenetrable glass, and screaming my name. Their words and actions barely penetrated the hazy terror clouding my mind.

Briefly, a memory bombarded me.

A car.

Alcohol.

Pain.

Fear.

Crash.

Before I could be swept away in the vaguely forming memory, the voice spoke again, “Little ssssister, I wassss waiting for you.” I heard what sounded like a body slithering across the ground and the disgusting slap of flesh, but I didn’t dare move, didn’t dare turn around.

“D-dylan.” I squeezed my eyelids shut as a single tear cascaded down my cheek, resting on my lips.

“Little ssssister.”

“Bianaca!” That was Kace, his voice laced with terror. And it was that hitch in his tone, the fear emanating from that one single word, that finally had me twisting towards my step-brother.

Or the monster posing as my step-brother.

A slimy white slug, easily five times the size of me, slithered behind a wall of folded up mats.

My breathing was shallow, huffing in and out, as flecks of light danced in my vision.

“Dylan?” I repeated, unable to peel my eyes away from where the creature disappeared to.

“I’ve been waiting for you, little ssssister,” he hissed, and those words…

They were the same words he said the day he—

“Leave me alone!” I screamed, my voice catching. “Leave me the fuck alone!”

The Dylan-creature left its hiding space, sliding towards me.

Disgust filled me, as did a horror so strong and potent that I threatened to lose consciousness.

It had a large, slug-like body, its color reminding me distinctly of cracked eggshells with marks of jaundiced yellow scattered throughout. Slime oozed from its pores as it crawled across the floor, its arms nothing but two tiny stubs that made wet, slapping noises against the gymnasium mats. And its face…

It had the distinct features of my step-brother, with its blue eyes and crooked nose, but everything about it was distorted. One of its eyes was larger than the other, while thick wrinkles circled its face, giving him a narrow-eyed appearance. Where his mouth should’ve been was nothing but a gaping maw, easily the size of my head, with two sharp rows of teeth layered into a circle.

When it spoke again, its lips didn’t move. The sound seemed to reverberate from the creature’s body, echoing off the walls of the gym.

“Little ssssister.”

“Leave me alone!”

It continued to trudge towards me, leaving behind a wet trail of slime. Its deformed head cocked curiously to the side, its larger blue eye fixated on me with an unnerving focus, while the smaller one rolled back into its head.

I took a step backwards, my hands searching for something, anything, I could use as a weapon. My eyes latched on a weight rack a few feet away, in the corner of the gym.

“Take off your clothes, little ssssssister.”

The memory of that night bombarded me.

Those threatening words.

His hands on my skin.

My hoarse screams…

“No!” I ran as fast as my legs could carry me in the direction of the weights. Behind me, I could hear my men screaming and the Dylan-creature’s deranged laughter, ending on a hiss.

Its wrinkly body took up nearly an entire floor mat as it continued its slow crawl towards me.

My hand closed around the nearest weight, though I knew a weapon as small as this would do nothing against a beast of that size.

Oh god.

My death flashed before my eyes so vividly, I wondered if it had actually happened before. If I was in a continuous loop in Purgatory where I would die a million times, all because of Dylan.

No!

I refused to cower.

I refused to die because of this sadistic motherfucker.

“Little ssssssister.” Its voice came from directly behind me, and I spun, the weight raised.

Its disgusting mouth was mere inches from my face. When it exhaled, its putrid smelling breath assaulted my senses, and I wanted to gag.

This close, I could see that each of its teeth were carved into triangles. It had no tongue, and nothing but darkness stared back at me from the inside of its mouth. If it ate me…

I would become one with the darkness.

I couldn’t allow that to happen. Not again. Dylan had already taken so much from me, and I refused to allow his monster to steal my life as well.

Tears streamed down my face as I roared in rage, ramming the weight against the creature’s face. Its body toppled slightly, bursts of goo erupting from its head and raining down on me.

Still, I didn’t stop hitting. And hitting. And hitting.

The body beneath me changed and contorted until instead of a monster, Dylan himself stared back at me. His face was mottled with dark bruises, and his eyes were almost completely swollen shut. Blood pooled from his lips as he cried, beseeching me with his eyes to show leniency and compassion.

Anger thrummed through my veins, as strong as a sparking wire, and more tears made salty tracks down my face.

“Please.” His voice was a whimper.

“You raped me!” I screamed into his face, bringing the weight back down onto his head. “Over.” Hit. “Over.” Hit. “And over.” Hit. “Again!” I spat at his disfigured face. “You don’t deserve my mercy.” Blood dripped down his cheek, staining the collar of his shirt, and a part of me fixated on that tiny droplet, utterly riveted.

I remembered that night vividly. The way he cornered me after gymnastics, hours after Eric Lang, the owner, had left. The way he held me down and forced himself on me, ignoring my pleas for him to stop.

And then the way he did it again and again, stopping only when…

Only when Beau found out.

That final memory took me by surprise, something I’d apparently forgotten when I arrived in Purgatory. I didn’t focus on that for too long, though, not with the rage scrambling my brain until all coherent thoughts fled.

“I should’ve done this to you the first night you held me down,” I hissed in his face. “I should’ve destroyed you before I allowed you to destroy me.”

More and more tears rushed down my face, cracking my heart open, as I stared at the man who’d abused me for years. His pain filled eyes turned dull and lifeless, and his body hardened beneath mine as he turned to stone. Then he crumbled, becoming nothing but thousands of particles of dust that one gust of wind could remove.

Irrelevant.

Dylan was irrelevant. Nothing. A rapist who didn’t deserve a second more of my time or attention. He would get what was coming to him, and maybe, just maybe, I would be able to heal from all he did to me. All of the abuse that my mother overlooked. All of the pain. All of the fear.

Memory after memory stabbed at my skull. Locked doors at night. Hiding under my blankets. His hand on my thigh, my breast, my pussy. His lips forcing mine open. The fear that if I told someone, no one would believe me.

And then the one person who did believe me. My best friend. The man I’d love fiercely for my entire life.

“You’re okay. Bianaca, drop the weight. You’re okay. You’re okay.” Strong arms banded around me as that familiar voice repeated my name, his hand stroking my hair. But that didn’t make any sense. It was Beau’s voice, and Beau didn’t talk. Not after he witnessed his own step-father murdering his mother. I hadn’t heard him talk in years. “I have you, B. I have you. I’m never letting you go.”

I turned in Beau’s arms, inhaling his familiar pomegranate scent, and sobbed into his shirt.

For the first time since I learned about Purgatory, I fell apart.

And I wasn’t sure there would be enough pieces for anyone to put back together again.

Maybe I was just as irrelevant as Dylan—nothing but dust that would blow away in the wind.

Nothing.

I was nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.