Panic and the Queens   Leave a comment

 I’m wandering the streets of Manhattan, looking in the shops and the people going by. I’m stopped by a rack of clothing coming out of a shop, the colors stuttering past my eyes as suddenly as a flock of birds erupting from the grass. A man puts his hand on my arm before I fall backward onto the concrete. I laugh and take my arm from his hand with a “thank ya Sir” and he looks at me, surprised. “You’re not from here are you, young lady?” He asks “That obvious, is it? Am I that out of place?” I laugh. He shakes his head and smiles “Nah, I just don’t hear that accent here very often. Southern, isn’t it?” I giggle and nod “Yup, from Texas, Y’all. I just done left my hat back at the ranch with the horses ass… I mean my dad” He laughs and we stand there talking for a while about general stuff. Why I’m there and such. I make up a story about my mom and dad being off to a theater or something and he sees right through it. He takes my hand and we walk a ways from the bustling street to a quieter side street before I realize what he’s doing.

 He stops before a door and looks me over “you want to go inside?” I look at the grungy building and shrug “um.. I suppose.. This your apartment or something?” He laughs “Or something” and opens he door. A tiny lobby inside, dark stairs leading up from a glass window. He hands the man some money and gets a key then takes my hand and leads me upstairs. The smells are awful, the walls are dirty and covered in graffiti. The door he opens is splintered but lockable. I stand outside the door and look at the tiny room, barely big enough for the bed inside and the sink. There’s no bathroom. I look at him and ask “um… what is this?”

 He grabs my hair and pulls me inside, tossing me on the bed and locking the door. I lay on the bed with a wry grin. “Feisty are you?” He laughs then looks at me seriously “How old are you?” “Seventeen” I say as I strip off my shirt “Good. I wouldn’t want you to be an adult. You’re a bit older than I normally go for but you look younger so that’s all good. Now, we’re going to play like I’m your daddy and you’ve been a very bad girl.” Immediately I’m crying and begging him not to spank me. It’s obviously very much what he wants and we play like that for a while. He spanks me with his belt then fucks me hard, choking me as he cums, his hands thick and hard around my throat. I start to struggle, thinking he’s really going to kill me. My heart thundering in my chest as I orgasm myself, my body bursting wildly just as he releases my throat and falls on me, gasping and shuddering. I lay there, gasping and shaking, feeling his weight on me, stealing my breath. He catches his breath and lifts up on one elbow, looking at me while his cock shrinks “very nice… yeah, that was good, baby girl. I think I’ll see you again, if you’re around sometime.” I’m laying there, still trying to catch my breath as he climbs off and gets dressed. He takes out his wallet and tosses me some money “Get yourself something nice and sexy. You did good.” I wait till he leaves to get dressed, picking up the money as I gather my clothes. I reek of sex and sweat but I really don’t care. I just want to get out of here and get some air. I’m finding it difficult to catch my breath and the room is getting smaller.

 I’m gasping, gulping air as I burst through the door to the outside, leaning over a drain and puking. I feel panicked and dirty, sick to my stomach from something. My mind flashes on him putting money on my nightstand and another wave of nausea flows over me. I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of memories that wash over me, a tidal wave of horror from my past. I hear concerned voices behind me, a hand touches my back and I scream before bolting into traffic and onto the sidewalk on the other side. Everywhere I look, I see him and his friends, touching me, raping me. I feel them grabbing me roughly and strike out, my fists landing on someone. I’m scratching and biting people, terrified for my life.


I listen to them talking in hushed voices, feeling pain everywhere. I slowly try to move my arms and find my left wrist attached to the gurney as I open my eyes. I can tell I’m in a hospital. The lights are bright and I’m squinting painfully when the nurse comes in to check on me. “Oh, you’re awake, good. How do you feel sweety?” I yawn and smile at her “I’m OK… can you tell me what I’m here for? Oh and why I’m handcuffed to the bed?” She smiles back at me gently and says “I’ll get the doctor for you hun, you just relax and we’ll be right back”

 She brings back a woman that looks very young . She comes to my side and takes my free hand in hers, checking my pulse as she looks into my eyes with a kind smile “you’re looking a world better than you did when they brought you in. How do you feel?” “I’m sore but… what happened anyway? Why am I in here?” I ask “You’ve had a breakdown from all appearances. We didn’t find any illegal drugs in your system so it wasn’t drug induced hallucinations.. I should start with questions.. What do you remember?” She watches me intently and I’m wondering if she’s a shrink or something. “Well, I got sick, like throwing up, then… I don’t know… um…. “ I looked at her, unsure. “I… I thought someone was hurting me.. I was really scared…. “ I start to cry and she slips her arm over my shoulder, hugging me gently as she speaks softly “It’s ok, you’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you here. Would you like a soda?” I nod and she sends the nurse away to get it. She pulls her arm off me and looks at my black eyes “You were hit, it seems, a few days ago. Have you been seen for this?” She asked. I shook my head and she started feeling my nose and cheeks. She asked me a few other questions as she looked me over, including if I’d told the police. I quickly said no, that I didn’t want to talk to them. She patted my hand and smiled “OK, no police as far as that is concerned but they are here to ask you some questions about something else, if it’s OK.” “will you stay with me?” I asked nervously. “Sure, if you like” I sighed as she called them in.

 The police were curt and vicious in their questions. It seemed to me that they didn’t believe that I was having a breakdown. One officer came in about ten minutes into the questioning, face and hand bandaged. They told me that I’d bitten him to the point that I drew blood and it took four stitches to close. I’d scratched his face but, apparently, not too bad. The interview lasted a half hour then the doctor told them they had enough when they tried to get me to tell them I was faking amnesia to get out of being arrested. Bless her heart, she was great. An hour after they left my room, the wounded officer came back in, looking concerned. “Don’t worry about this, kid. I’ve had worse. You just get better, OK?” I nod and lay down on my side, curled in fetal position when he leaves. 

The doctor comes in and talks to me some more than unlocks the cuff. She tells me I can get dressed and she’ll be right back with discharge papers and some meds she wants me to take. I get dressed and realize my top is torn so I tie it around my chest like I used to back home. She comes in and asks me if my parents have been notified and are coming to get me. I say yes and she gives me the papers, telling me how often to take the medicine. As she’s leaving, I have to ask “How old are you?” She grins and says “I feel a million sometimes” With a laugh, she opens the door and watches me walk toward the door. Dr. Z was the nicest doctor I’d ever met.

I walk outside and look around, realize I have no clue where I am, and hurry back inside. I ask the nearest nurse and she says “Queens” then, she runs off hurriedly “Queens…. Where the fuck is THAT?” I ask aloud to no one in particular. A guard standing nearby looks me over and asks where I need to go. I ask him how to get back to Manhattan and he says “Ya gotta take tha subways, dontcha know” I look at him with confusion then sigh before turning back toward the door “whatever THAT is…” He laughs and I walk back outside. Holding the key to my room in my hand, I look around and try to figure out what to do. What the hell was a subway anyway?

Posted April 6, 2012 by I'm taking a nap in Memoirs

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: