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inkstainedfingertipsKyra ran her fingers along the cold, steel bars that separated her from the world beyond. Snowcapped peaks jutted into a dull gray sky. In the distance, lighting flashed but she couldn’t hear the rumble of thunder through the inch-thick pane of plexiglass behind the steel bars.
Tears welled in her eyes, and she bit the inside of her cheek viciously to keep them from falling. Showing weakness would be the end of her.
"Stop it. Pull your shit together," she murmured to herself.
She ran her fingers through her ash-blonde hair, grimacing at how limp and greasy it felt. She felt like she hadn’t had a proper shower in weeks. It was just one more indignity on top of the massive and unrelenting pile of indignities she’d already been forced to suffer.
“It’s not going to get any closer, no matter how long you stare at it.”
Kyra turned to see a tall, stout woman with short black hair and dark eyes staring back at her, a small smile on her thin bow-shaped lips. She was new to the pod.
“What?”
“Your freedom,” she said. “You can stare out the window all you like but it’s not going to get any closer.”
Kyra rolled her eyes. “Great. Thanks.”
The newcomer sat at the table beside her. Kyra sighed.
“I’m Stacy.”
“I’m not really looking for company, Stacy” she said.
“Yeah, they said you were kind of a loner.”
Kyra said nothing since it was true. She’d been in that particular pod for a little over a year and hadn’t said much of anything to anybody. She wasn’t there to make friends.
“How much longer you got?” Stacy pressed.
“I’m not in the mood for a chat. No offense.”
“Hey, having a friend in here, somebody you can talk to, can make the time go faster,” she pressed. “Can make it not so lonely too.”
“Maybe I’m not interested in making a friend.”
“Maybe I’m selfish and need somebody to talk to.”
“Then go talk to one of the others.”
She waved them off. “They’re idiots. You seem interesting. I only like talking to people who seem interesting and like they’ve got a story to tell.”
“What makes you think I have a story to tell?”
“Because I’ve got a sixth sense about these things. It’s my superpower.”
A wry chuckle burst from Kyra’s mouth despite herself.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but everybody in this pod is just a variation of the same story. We’re all here for the same thing. Just like you.”
“Maybe, but you look more interesting than they do.”
Kyra shook her head, a bitter laugh bursting from her mouth. And as her eyes stung with tears, she bit the inside of her cheek hard enough that the coppery taste of her own blood filled her mouth.
“So, what’s your story?” Stacy pressed. “How did you end up here?”
Talking to people and sharing her story wasn’t something Kyra had even intended to do. She’d been content to quietly do her time with the hope that one day, she’d get out and be able to live her life. There was something about Stacy though, that made her want to talk. To open up and share with her if for no other reason than to lessen the weight on her heart.
“Douglas Adams. I ended up here because of Douglas Adams,” Kyra finally said.
“Who? Is that your boyfriend?”
A sad smile touched her lips. “No. He’s a writer.”
Stacy looked at her with a confused expression on her face. Kyra didn’t notice though. Her mind was already plummeting down the rabbit hole, pulling her back in time…
* * * * *
“The Long, Dark Tea-Time of the Soul. That’s a good one. I’ve read it like a hundred times,” he said. “But I’m still partial to Hitchhiker’s Guide.”
Kyra looked up from her book to see a tall, lanky boy with shaggy blond hair and warm blue eyes standing over her with a small smile on his lips. She was new to the school and had no friends yet, so she’d contented herself at lunchtime by reading a book. It was fine. She had always been self-contained and never needed a lot of friends.
He was the first person who’d spoken to her, and it made her feel good. Especially since he seemed, like her, to be a fan of reading. It was something that seemed rare in kids her age anymore.
“I like Adams’ absurdist humor,” she said.
The boy gestured to the patch of grass beside her. “May I?”
“Sure.”
“I’m Toby,” he said.
“Kyra.”
“Nice to meet you,” he replied and pulled a book out of his backpack and handed it to her. “If you like Adams, I think you’d like this one.”
“Starship Grifters,” she read the cover. “I’ve never heard of Robert Kroese before.”
“If you like Adams’ humor, you’ll love this one.”
Kyra smiled and flipped through the book, happy to have made her first friend.
* * * * *
For the next two years, Kyra and Toby were the best of friends. They spent just about every waking moment together, laughing, talking, sharing their books and secrets with one another. Kyra had moved around so much in life that she’d never had a best friend. Not until Toby.
“Hey,” he said.
Toby just walked in like he lived there. Which, he practically did. Kyra’s parents considered him part of their family. He was the son they’d never had. He dropped onto the couch beside her.
“Where are your folks?” he asked.
“Out of town for a couple of days.”
“Oh, that’s right. Your mom told me they had a wedding or something?”
Kyra nodded. “Yeah, some long lost relative or something.”
“What are you doing?”
“Finishing up my applications,” she replied. “I’m shooting for the moon and am applying to Harvard and Yale.”
“Well, you’ve got the grades. They’d be idiots not to take you.”
“Thanks.”
Toby had already gotten into Stanford—and every other college he’d applied to. She was proud of him but also sad that she was going to be losing her best friend to a school on the other side of the country. Kyra hit send on the application then set her computer aside and turned to him to find Toby looking back at her with a strange look on his face.
“What is it? Are you okay?” she asked.
He swallowed hard then took her hand in his. “Kyra…”
His voice trailed off and he looked down at their hands.
“Toby, what’s wrong? You’re freaking me out right now.”
He clenched his jaw and held her gaze. “Kyra, I love you.”
Her heart dropped into her stomach and her throat grew dry. She stared at him for a long moment, unable to speak, unable to move. They’d told each other they loved one another hundreds of times. But there was something in his eyes, in the intensity of his voice that told Kyra this wasn’t the friendly “I love you,” they’d shared so many times before. This was something else.
She licked her lips, her heart quivering with fear. She knew what he wanted her to say. She knew what he wanted to hear. Knew that he wanted her to validate his feelings by telling him she felt the same way. But she didn’t.
“Did you hear me, Kyra?” he pressed, his grip on her hand tightening. “I love you. I want us to be together. I want you to come to Stanford with me and—”
“Toby, you know I love you,” she said quietly. “I just… you’re my friend.”
He recoiled like she’d slapped him as his face drained of color, the meaning of her words clear. She winced and let out a soft gasp as he squeezed her hand.
“Toby, you’re hurting me,” she said.
He looked down at her hand and for a moment, didn’t move. But then he let go and shot to his feet. He stared at her like she’d betrayed him then turned and ran out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Kyra sat alone in the sudden silence of the house, haunted by the look of pain on her best friend’s face.
* * * * *
Kyra sat in the corner, her arms wrapped around knees she’d drawn up to her chest protectively. Her lips quivered and tears streamed down her face. Her clothes were torn, her body bruised, and she hurt in ways she never thought she could. The insides of her thighs were slick with her blood and his spunk.
As bad as her body ached, the physical pain wasn’t the worst of it. The pain in her heart and soul was intense, threatening to send her over the edge into madness. Toby sat on the edge of her bed staring down at his hands, a look of stunned disbelief on his face.
It took a few months for him to get over her rejection. And even when they did start talking then hanging out together again, it wasn’t the same. Their reunion was tense and tentative. Things between them had shifted and Kyra could tell he still carried the burden of his pain. He tried to hide it, but she knew him better than anybody and knew he was still hurting.
But they’d been through so much together and meant so much to each other, Kyra believed he would eventually heal and that being in each other’s lives, if only as friends, was better than not. She thought he believed that too. Kyra touched her lip and winced at the pain and when her fingertips came away red with her blood, she saw now just how naïve she’d been.
“Why?” she asked, her voice trembling as hard as her body. “Why did you do this to me?”
He turned to her, his face suddenly expressionless. “Because I love you, Kyra.”
“This isn’t what you do to somebody you love.”
“I… I’m sorry.”
“Get out of my house,” she hissed. “I never want to see you again, Toby.”
His face hardened and his eyes narrowed as he stared at her. He got to his feet though and quickly zipped up his pants and fastened his belt.
“This doesn’t change the fact that I love you,” he growled. “And that you’re mine. You will always be mine. Always.”
A sudden burst of rage filling her, Kyra grabbed the first thing her hands found—a snow globe—and hurled it at him. He ducked and it shattered against the far wall. But he did as she’d asked and left. Left alone in the oppressive silence of her room, Kyra pressed her hands to her face and sobbed.
* * * * *
“Kyra Marks?”
She looked up to see a kindly woman wearing scrubs standing in the doorway. She gave Kyra an encouraging smile and a nod.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Kyra turned to her mother. “Yes.”
“You know what will happen if—”
“I want to do this. I need to do this.”
Her mother looked terrified, so Kyra gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She stood up and followed the nurse through the doorway. She turned and gave her mom one last look as the door was closing behind her.
“I love you,” she mouthed.
A couple of hours later, she was on her feet again and walking out of the clinic with her mother. As she opened the door, the bright afternoon light was almost blinding. Kyra held her hand up to block the light only to see half a dozen men in black tactical gear holding ferocious looking weapons standing before her.
A woman in black slacks with a white blouse beneath a windbreaker that bore a silver star on the breast stepped out from behind the men. She stared at Kyra like she was the lowest, most contemptible creature on the planet.
Kyra's mother moved to shield her, but the men in black moved first, pulling her away from Kyra. She screamed and fought but Kyra’s heart sunk, and she fell to her knees. Her mother’s shrill screaming rang in her ears as the woman in the windbreaker stood over her.
“Kyra Marks, you are under arrest for violating the Right to Life Act of 2025.”
* * * * *
“I don't know how they knew about the clinic--it was supposedly off the grid. They said they got tipped off and that’s how I ended up here,” Kyra said. “Same as you, I suspect.”
Stacy nodded. “Yeah, about the same.”
“I was sentenced to thirty-five years for murder.”
“Same.”
“And do you know what kills me the most?”
“Tell me.”
“Toby got a year of probation for raping me,” she said. “The judge said he came from a good family and had a bright future he didn’t want to see derailed because of an immature, childish mistake. In fact, he chastised me for leading him on.”
"That's some shit," Stacy said. "But it's a man's world out there now, babe."
Stacy lowered her gaze and shook her head. Familiar waves of nausea washed over her as she remembered every last detail from Toby’s trial—and then hers. The hard bang of the judge rapping his gavel after he sentenced her echoed in her ears, loud as a gunshot.
“Do you know what the judge said after he sentenced me?” Kyra said, unable to stop talking now that she’d started.
“What?”
“Welcome to the new world.”
Before she could go on, the buzzer echoed through the pod, signaling it was time to return to their cells. Kyra offered Stacy a small as the woman patted her on the shoulder. She had to admit, it felt good to unburden herself. To get that all off her chest for the first time. Perhaps she could make a friend in prison after all.
As she walked into her cell and the door slammed shut behind her with a sound that reminded her of the judge’s gavel falling, Kyra noticed a small box sitting on her bed. She sat down and set it in her lap as she opened it. When she got the lid off, she cried out and let the box fall to the floor, spilling the contents inside across the floor. She covered her mouth with her hand and started to cry.
On the floor was a copy of Douglas Adams’ book, The Long, Dark Tea-Time of the Soul, with a handwritten note that read, “Thinking of you. Miss you. Always mine, always yours, Toby.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she bit the inside of her cheek viciously to keep them from falling. Showing weakness would be the end of her.
"Stop it. Pull your shit together," she murmured to herself.
She ran her fingers through her ash-blonde hair, grimacing at how limp and greasy it felt. She felt like she hadn’t had a proper shower in weeks. It was just one more indignity on top of the massive and unrelenting pile of indignities she’d already been forced to suffer.
“It’s not going to get any closer, no matter how long you stare at it.”
Kyra turned to see a tall, stout woman with short black hair and dark eyes staring back at her, a small smile on her thin bow-shaped lips. She was new to the pod.
“What?”
“Your freedom,” she said. “You can stare out the window all you like but it’s not going to get any closer.”
Kyra rolled her eyes. “Great. Thanks.”
The newcomer sat at the table beside her. Kyra sighed.
“I’m Stacy.”
“I’m not really looking for company, Stacy” she said.
“Yeah, they said you were kind of a loner.”
Kyra said nothing since it was true. She’d been in that particular pod for a little over a year and hadn’t said much of anything to anybody. She wasn’t there to make friends.
“How much longer you got?” Stacy pressed.
“I’m not in the mood for a chat. No offense.”
“Hey, having a friend in here, somebody you can talk to, can make the time go faster,” she pressed. “Can make it not so lonely too.”
“Maybe I’m not interested in making a friend.”
“Maybe I’m selfish and need somebody to talk to.”
“Then go talk to one of the others.”
She waved them off. “They’re idiots. You seem interesting. I only like talking to people who seem interesting and like they’ve got a story to tell.”
“What makes you think I have a story to tell?”
“Because I’ve got a sixth sense about these things. It’s my superpower.”
A wry chuckle burst from Kyra’s mouth despite herself.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but everybody in this pod is just a variation of the same story. We’re all here for the same thing. Just like you.”
“Maybe, but you look more interesting than they do.”
Kyra shook her head, a bitter laugh bursting from her mouth. And as her eyes stung with tears, she bit the inside of her cheek hard enough that the coppery taste of her own blood filled her mouth.
“So, what’s your story?” Stacy pressed. “How did you end up here?”
Talking to people and sharing her story wasn’t something Kyra had even intended to do. She’d been content to quietly do her time with the hope that one day, she’d get out and be able to live her life. There was something about Stacy though, that made her want to talk. To open up and share with her if for no other reason than to lessen the weight on her heart.
“Douglas Adams. I ended up here because of Douglas Adams,” Kyra finally said.
“Who? Is that your boyfriend?”
A sad smile touched her lips. “No. He’s a writer.”
Stacy looked at her with a confused expression on her face. Kyra didn’t notice though. Her mind was already plummeting down the rabbit hole, pulling her back in time…
* * * * *
“The Long, Dark Tea-Time of the Soul. That’s a good one. I’ve read it like a hundred times,” he said. “But I’m still partial to Hitchhiker’s Guide.”
Kyra looked up from her book to see a tall, lanky boy with shaggy blond hair and warm blue eyes standing over her with a small smile on his lips. She was new to the school and had no friends yet, so she’d contented herself at lunchtime by reading a book. It was fine. She had always been self-contained and never needed a lot of friends.
He was the first person who’d spoken to her, and it made her feel good. Especially since he seemed, like her, to be a fan of reading. It was something that seemed rare in kids her age anymore.
“I like Adams’ absurdist humor,” she said.
The boy gestured to the patch of grass beside her. “May I?”
“Sure.”
“I’m Toby,” he said.
“Kyra.”
“Nice to meet you,” he replied and pulled a book out of his backpack and handed it to her. “If you like Adams, I think you’d like this one.”
“Starship Grifters,” she read the cover. “I’ve never heard of Robert Kroese before.”
“If you like Adams’ humor, you’ll love this one.”
Kyra smiled and flipped through the book, happy to have made her first friend.
* * * * *
For the next two years, Kyra and Toby were the best of friends. They spent just about every waking moment together, laughing, talking, sharing their books and secrets with one another. Kyra had moved around so much in life that she’d never had a best friend. Not until Toby.
“Hey,” he said.
Toby just walked in like he lived there. Which, he practically did. Kyra’s parents considered him part of their family. He was the son they’d never had. He dropped onto the couch beside her.
“Where are your folks?” he asked.
“Out of town for a couple of days.”
“Oh, that’s right. Your mom told me they had a wedding or something?”
Kyra nodded. “Yeah, some long lost relative or something.”
“What are you doing?”
“Finishing up my applications,” she replied. “I’m shooting for the moon and am applying to Harvard and Yale.”
“Well, you’ve got the grades. They’d be idiots not to take you.”
“Thanks.”
Toby had already gotten into Stanford—and every other college he’d applied to. She was proud of him but also sad that she was going to be losing her best friend to a school on the other side of the country. Kyra hit send on the application then set her computer aside and turned to him to find Toby looking back at her with a strange look on his face.
“What is it? Are you okay?” she asked.
He swallowed hard then took her hand in his. “Kyra…”
His voice trailed off and he looked down at their hands.
“Toby, what’s wrong? You’re freaking me out right now.”
He clenched his jaw and held her gaze. “Kyra, I love you.”
Her heart dropped into her stomach and her throat grew dry. She stared at him for a long moment, unable to speak, unable to move. They’d told each other they loved one another hundreds of times. But there was something in his eyes, in the intensity of his voice that told Kyra this wasn’t the friendly “I love you,” they’d shared so many times before. This was something else.
She licked her lips, her heart quivering with fear. She knew what he wanted her to say. She knew what he wanted to hear. Knew that he wanted her to validate his feelings by telling him she felt the same way. But she didn’t.
“Did you hear me, Kyra?” he pressed, his grip on her hand tightening. “I love you. I want us to be together. I want you to come to Stanford with me and—”
“Toby, you know I love you,” she said quietly. “I just… you’re my friend.”
He recoiled like she’d slapped him as his face drained of color, the meaning of her words clear. She winced and let out a soft gasp as he squeezed her hand.
“Toby, you’re hurting me,” she said.
He looked down at her hand and for a moment, didn’t move. But then he let go and shot to his feet. He stared at her like she’d betrayed him then turned and ran out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Kyra sat alone in the sudden silence of the house, haunted by the look of pain on her best friend’s face.
* * * * *
Kyra sat in the corner, her arms wrapped around knees she’d drawn up to her chest protectively. Her lips quivered and tears streamed down her face. Her clothes were torn, her body bruised, and she hurt in ways she never thought she could. The insides of her thighs were slick with her blood and his spunk.
As bad as her body ached, the physical pain wasn’t the worst of it. The pain in her heart and soul was intense, threatening to send her over the edge into madness. Toby sat on the edge of her bed staring down at his hands, a look of stunned disbelief on his face.
It took a few months for him to get over her rejection. And even when they did start talking then hanging out together again, it wasn’t the same. Their reunion was tense and tentative. Things between them had shifted and Kyra could tell he still carried the burden of his pain. He tried to hide it, but she knew him better than anybody and knew he was still hurting.
But they’d been through so much together and meant so much to each other, Kyra believed he would eventually heal and that being in each other’s lives, if only as friends, was better than not. She thought he believed that too. Kyra touched her lip and winced at the pain and when her fingertips came away red with her blood, she saw now just how naïve she’d been.
“Why?” she asked, her voice trembling as hard as her body. “Why did you do this to me?”
He turned to her, his face suddenly expressionless. “Because I love you, Kyra.”
“This isn’t what you do to somebody you love.”
“I… I’m sorry.”
“Get out of my house,” she hissed. “I never want to see you again, Toby.”
His face hardened and his eyes narrowed as he stared at her. He got to his feet though and quickly zipped up his pants and fastened his belt.
“This doesn’t change the fact that I love you,” he growled. “And that you’re mine. You will always be mine. Always.”
A sudden burst of rage filling her, Kyra grabbed the first thing her hands found—a snow globe—and hurled it at him. He ducked and it shattered against the far wall. But he did as she’d asked and left. Left alone in the oppressive silence of her room, Kyra pressed her hands to her face and sobbed.
* * * * *
“Kyra Marks?”
She looked up to see a kindly woman wearing scrubs standing in the doorway. She gave Kyra an encouraging smile and a nod.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Kyra turned to her mother. “Yes.”
“You know what will happen if—”
“I want to do this. I need to do this.”
Her mother looked terrified, so Kyra gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She stood up and followed the nurse through the doorway. She turned and gave her mom one last look as the door was closing behind her.
“I love you,” she mouthed.
A couple of hours later, she was on her feet again and walking out of the clinic with her mother. As she opened the door, the bright afternoon light was almost blinding. Kyra held her hand up to block the light only to see half a dozen men in black tactical gear holding ferocious looking weapons standing before her.
A woman in black slacks with a white blouse beneath a windbreaker that bore a silver star on the breast stepped out from behind the men. She stared at Kyra like she was the lowest, most contemptible creature on the planet.
Kyra's mother moved to shield her, but the men in black moved first, pulling her away from Kyra. She screamed and fought but Kyra’s heart sunk, and she fell to her knees. Her mother’s shrill screaming rang in her ears as the woman in the windbreaker stood over her.
“Kyra Marks, you are under arrest for violating the Right to Life Act of 2025.”
* * * * *
“I don't know how they knew about the clinic--it was supposedly off the grid. They said they got tipped off and that’s how I ended up here,” Kyra said. “Same as you, I suspect.”
Stacy nodded. “Yeah, about the same.”
“I was sentenced to thirty-five years for murder.”
“Same.”
“And do you know what kills me the most?”
“Tell me.”
“Toby got a year of probation for raping me,” she said. “The judge said he came from a good family and had a bright future he didn’t want to see derailed because of an immature, childish mistake. In fact, he chastised me for leading him on.”
"That's some shit," Stacy said. "But it's a man's world out there now, babe."
Stacy lowered her gaze and shook her head. Familiar waves of nausea washed over her as she remembered every last detail from Toby’s trial—and then hers. The hard bang of the judge rapping his gavel after he sentenced her echoed in her ears, loud as a gunshot.
“Do you know what the judge said after he sentenced me?” Kyra said, unable to stop talking now that she’d started.
“What?”
“Welcome to the new world.”
Before she could go on, the buzzer echoed through the pod, signaling it was time to return to their cells. Kyra offered Stacy a small as the woman patted her on the shoulder. She had to admit, it felt good to unburden herself. To get that all off her chest for the first time. Perhaps she could make a friend in prison after all.
As she walked into her cell and the door slammed shut behind her with a sound that reminded her of the judge’s gavel falling, Kyra noticed a small box sitting on her bed. She sat down and set it in her lap as she opened it. When she got the lid off, she cried out and let the box fall to the floor, spilling the contents inside across the floor. She covered her mouth with her hand and started to cry.
On the floor was a copy of Douglas Adams’ book, The Long, Dark Tea-Time of the Soul, with a handwritten note that read, “Thinking of you. Miss you. Always mine, always yours, Toby.”
no subject
on 2024-11-17 02:54 am (UTC)This story made me cry a while reading, it hit way too close to home.
I had two relationships where the guys would not accept when I first broke up with them and basically dragged the relationships out for more months.
Somewhat different scenario to Toby not respecting Kyra's answer, but also not really.
I am thankful that I never got pregnant by either of them.
The ending as well made my heart so heavy. That he is STILL doing this to her and her entire life has been lost to him in a sense is heartbreaking.
Where I live abortion under any circumstances is still totally illegal. Unless you can afford to fly to another country in the vicinity that will perform this, you will have to give birth.
I can only imagine how many kids have been born as result of rape here.
As always this was just so amazingly done though. I keep saying it every week but your ability to reel me in from the first sentence with your atmospheric writing and awesome dialogue is something I am totally in awe of.
Wonderful, wonderful work.
no subject
on 2024-11-21 05:32 pm (UTC)I suppose it comes down to--the same as the abortion debate--control. They need to control others, the same way these people trying to decide whether or not women have autonomy and control over their own medical decisions. It is beyond disgusting and I am sorry you had to deal with that sort of thing in your life.
I really appreciate your kind words, as always. You really do make me feel amazing and I cannot put into words just how much I appreciate you for that. I am beyond grateful. Thank you so, so, so much.
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on 2024-11-17 04:58 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-11-21 05:38 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-11-18 03:19 pm (UTC)- Erulisse (one L)
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on 2024-11-21 05:39 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-11-18 08:48 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-11-21 05:39 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-11-18 11:34 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-11-21 05:40 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-11-20 03:50 pm (UTC)Thank you for being brave enough to post a political entry this far in the competition. You have one of my votes.
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on 2024-11-21 05:40 pm (UTC)Thank you very much for reading and for your vote. I appreciate it.
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on 2024-11-22 02:09 am (UTC)no subject
on 2024-11-22 09:13 pm (UTC)