Mad world

Chapter 2

"No." Olivia shakes her head.

"I know this is hard to understand Misses Van Buren," you say soothingly. Only then does the realization seep into your head of what you actually heard. Denise next to you takes it in faster and freezes into an icy column of shock and bewilderment. "Excuse me?"

"No." Again, just a shake of the head, nothing more. Mister Van Buren is very quiet. Maybe you were wrong, after all, it's really damn hard to accept. "Nathaniel would never do something like that." Fuck... Your jaw drops.

"Uh..." The girl, your friend next to you stops breathing and squeezes all the blood out of your hand while looking over at her mother who seems more dead than alive. Her eyes are wide open, but gazing blearily down at the table between you that separates your worlds. In the background, a team's fans cheer for their team on the television.

"I can't believe this."

"Mrs. Van Buren, I assure you, everything I said is true." You can't believe it. You've been raised in Western culture and have had the luxury all your life of being protected by a legal system that is impartial and, above all, unbiased. A country like the one you live in can only be a great, strong country, a just country, if the laws are upheld. Your father never tired of explaining that to you. And so it had been a mistake to beat up Josh. And even if you don't always like it, in your country the law of innocence until proven guilty prevails. No matter what an angry and upset public or a hurt and saddened family member may think and say, the perpetrator gets the same rights as the victim. And even if he is punished, he deserves the same rights as the people he wronged. When you lunged at Josh with the intention of burying him with your fists in the sandy mire of the lake bed you wanted to kill him and that - had you succeeded - would have made you a bad person. These are your father's words and you have lived by them, with few exceptions, because it is the right thing to do.

But now is one of those exceptions. Now is one of those times when you wish the legal system, morality and code of values were as unjust as the world Denise lives in. Her mother, at least, seems to be living in that tempting but treacherous world now, which means maybe she has always been in it. That would explain why no one noticed. Briefly, you notice that you seem to be the only one in the room who doesn't doubt your friend's story. Even Denise looks at her mother with a mixture of fear and shock, but also uncertainty. After all, the woman has been a person of respect for her all her life. Now to see that person break down under the pressures of the world must be hard. Another weight on her shoulders and another piece of coal in the burning fire in your heart.

"Mrs. Van Buren..."

"Olivia!" the woman exclaims. "You shall call me Olivia!" All right, I get it.

"Olivia. That Nate sold Denise to his friends for money cannot be dismissed fpr me." But if you thought it was all black here, you're about to meet a new intensity.

"So you say!" the woman hisses at you while her husband seems to be having a heart attack next to her. Her eyes are wide as the realization hits her. "You don't know my daughter! And you don't know my son! But I do! I know my own children!"

"Mama..." Denise is a mere shadow of her former self as well, and your heart shreds a little bit more with each resounding beat. You do the first and best thing you can think of and wrap your friend, your love in your arms. What does Denise good takes her mother to task.

"See?" she asks you rethorically and hysterically. Then she turns to her husband. "Do you see Harold?" Her voice is a hysterical screech. She guesses. Then her eyes lock on you again, and you're sparkled at not angrily but reproachfully. She knows I'm right, but won't admit it. She accuses me... us... My God... she accuses Denise of destroying her wholesome life.

"My God..." you breathe. You have never experienced anything like this.

"That's right" exclaims Mrs. Van Buren. "Who's to say it wasn't you who corrupted our little Denise? Everything was fine until just now, but when she's been out with you and your damn sister for just a week, everyone starts talking about ****." The mention of her daughter's name reminds Olivia that it's not just you sitting across from her on the sofa. With a pleading look, she comes around the table, stretching out her arms. She has real tears in her eyes. Her face, actually quite handsome, is contorted with sadness and her lips are pressed so tightly together that they are just two white lines in an equally white face. "Denise darling..." the woman begs. You can't blame her. "Please. You can't believe this. What makes you think your brother, your own big brother, could do this to you.

"I don't know," Denise whimpers softly, clinging tightly to you. Her fingers almost tear your shirt. The spectacle only makes it worse.

"Lad...Finn...get out of here." Now the lady of the house is silent, icy. Her outstretched finger points toward the door. "Get out of here. I forbid you to ever see Denise again." But you remain seated.

"I'm not leaving Denise alone," you reply matter-of-factly, feeling somewhat inferior in your seated position.

"Harold, tell this boy to leave!" commands the mother of two children she surely loves equally. For the first time, you look over at the man who hasn't said anything all this time. While Olivia waits for an answer and Denise pulls herself further and further onto your lap and wraps your arms around her, your eyes meet those of Mister Van Buren. Maybe it's you, or the fact that you're both men, eons of years of evolution, but you can read his face like you can read the on of Megan. You understand this man, and even though you shudder to think your sister's name in the same breath as that of these monsters, you can understand him perfectly. It only takes a few words.

"He is my son Finn" is the only thing you hear from him and it is enough for you. You nod to him and you have made your decision.

"Now get out of here! Get out!" Part of you understands, the desire for normalcy. But the part that senses Denise next to you is just horrified. But no matter how bad you feel about it, Denise is standing in the fire. As her life and soul burn down, she finds the strength to speak and you can only look at her in love. Her mother is thankfully focused on her daughter but Harold understands you.

"Mom...why?"

"Honey..." Tears run down Olivia's cheek and you know that only something very, very bad can come now. But even with that apocalyptic attitude, you're still surprised. Olivia is still wrestling with herself at first, but then you lose it. "You...you're eighteen." It's a statement. You don't know what you're doing yet. "And you don't know what life is like yet." Oh fucking hell...

"What?" Everything crumbles to black ash. "But mom..." Denise swallows hard. She's as far from the funny and almost healed girl you met and fell in love with at the lake as she's ever been. Then almost to her neck, she glances fleetingly over at you. "Mom, it's true what Finn says."

"Finn doesn't know you!" exclaims Olivia again loudly but Denise remains calm as ****.

"But he does know me. We talked he..." Her delicate thumb strokes the back of your hand, everyone can see it. A shiver runs down your spine with you not caring about your audience. You're so proud of your friend. "He knows me. I trust him. Mom..." Now Denise has to sob too, but pulls herself together. You can't imagine where she finds the strength in this situation. But then it dawns on you and your heart stops for a few beats. It is you. You are her strength. "Mom please believe me." It's almost a plea but not quite. Denise has already given up on her mother a bit, realizing the irreparable damage that has just been done. And she turns to you. Her father understands.

"But you and Nate have always gotten along so well." Despair, some resignation, but mostly sadness.

"He did it mom. I trust Finn, he... he showed me." Denise has almost managed to convince her mother. You can already see the first terrible cracks under the facade she's pulled up for her life. But then Denise makes a mistake. How else is she going to stop it? Her mother is right. She's an eighteen-year-old girl who reads comic books and takes refuge in childish tomfoolery, bad-smelling perfume, and comic humor when memories and doubts take hold. No one can blame her and it is only natural that she makes this mistake that seals her fate. "It... it was my fault."

"Denise," you intervene. Your friend has spent her life fighting valiantly against an all-powerful foe with inexhaustible resources, loyal allies and inhuman tactics, but now she has you by her side and for the honor of standing by her side you are forever in her debt. Unfortunately, her mother doesn't realize this and mercilessly, if not knowingly, exploits her own daughter's mistake.

"What do you mean honey?" she asks, hope actually resonating in her voice. Oh lord.

"I didn't know what was happening. I..." You know what's coming now and your first reflex is to interrupt Denise. But you can't, and she needs to get this off her chest. Your fingers intertwine and you feel her warm shoulder against yours as she continues to speak. "I wanted to."

"Oh God..." But it's more of an 'Oh thank God' than a 'For God's sake'. Your jaw begins to ache so hard you clench your teeth while Olivia Van Buren undergoes an amazing transformation under your eyes. "Honey, we can build on that," she suggests in a shaky voice, and it works. Her daughter looks at her hopefully, but then looks to you for support. You don't nod and Denise understands, her father understands, only her mother does not. How could she? "We...we can work this out. Sort out what happened. We'll... we'll make a plan, get help. We'll fix this." She looks at her daughter pleadingly. Commercials flicker across the TV in the background. You shake your head slightly as you notice that you're only now looking at the apartment. Actually, there isn't much to see that isn't in other apartments. Light colors, normal furniture. And pictures. You don't notice more, because your world is black. The pictures.

"Finn?" Denise looks at you asking and follows your gaze to the dresser on which the pictures of the family are standing. They are just normal pictures. Denise and her mother at their first day of school. Nathaniel and his dad fishing. The family at the amusement park. Nathaniel and Denise at a birthday party. Actually, all normal and no different than the pictures in your apartment of you and your siblings. But all you can see is the hand of this pig wrapped around your girlfriend's waist. You don't know jealousy, which has always surprised you. Surely it is because you always secretly knew that Megan and Millie belonged to you. With your wombat's boyfriend it was like that and you trusted Megan. With Maureen and Josh and the situation with Emma, it was fear for the two girls. John doesn't even cross your mind. And again with Denise, you're not reacting out of a desire to own Denise.

And you're not ashamed to say that it is. You own the girl who sits next to you and from your sheer presence has the power to wring something out of her burnt black life that is worth going on for. Denise is yours and as she draws strength from you, you draw your strength from being near her and make the move she cannot make. She doesn't lack strength, it's just that you are made for the role you play and Denise is the reason you hold that role. You are responsible for her. You suck air deep into your lungs and you could swear you taste sulfur.

"Denise" you say slowly and quietly, contrasting with her mother. Two worlds between which she can choose. "Your mother is right when she says you are eighteen." That's all you dare say. Even if Denise belongs to you, you are not a person who forces this decision on her. Nor are you a person who leaves her alone with it. You rely completely on the clever girl that she deals with the possibilities you give her. And it seems to work. Denise looks at you and when your eyes meet you can read in her like you do in all your other friends.

"You're not getting involved," Olivia hisses at you, angry and panicked at the same time. "For all I know, it could be you who corrupted my girl." The corners of your mouth twitch with anger but also with the desire to tell this lost woman what sex with her daughter feels like, but you pull yourself together in time and are immediately rewarded.

"I want Finn involved in this, though. I trust him." Denise sounds soft, but her voice is firm as reinforced concrete.

"Denise Van Buren!" Even you wince at this outburst of anger and learn why you managed to get through to Denise that day. "I'm your mother!"

"And you said I was eighteen. I... I don't have to listen to you anymore." What sounds like an argument with a petulant teenager is bitterly serious. Harold is no help to his wife and just stares holes in the air. Each of them deals with the trauma in their own way but the youngest in the room finds new strength where there should be none. There's just you. "Mom, Dad, I love you. But it's true what Finn told you. He listened to me, talked to me and found out what happened when I didn't want to believe it myself. I trust him and I want him to..." She breaks off and looks at you. The world stands still for a few seconds as you look into each other's eyes. Where you suspect fear, anger, disappointment and blackness you see only love and it heals your heart, puts it back together and then breaks it again in the best way. Her dainty hand slowly moves to her neck, stroking her choker and without hesitation she proves to you how perfect she is. "What should I do?"