Under Ground (7 page)

I can’t take this anymore. I’ve
had enough. I stand up and walk away. I step into the hall, as far
from the door as I can. No one’s around, so I finally have space to
breathe. I just want to go home, but William’s driver is to take me
back and I can’t leave without him. I stand here for a while, and
when I've calmed down a bit, I head back to the ballroom. But I
stop in my tracks when Chi appears at the door. He looks one way
down the hall and then turns his head to look directly at me. When
I meet his gaze, his eyes shine with recognition and relief. That’s
how I know he’s been looking for me. At least, someone cares that I
am here. Chi smiles and walks my way.

“Why aren’t you inside with your
boyfriend?” he asks.

There's something in his voice. If
I didn’t know any better, I’d say it sounded like jealousy. But
surely I must be mistaken because he hardly knows me. I don’t
answer his question. I’ve come here to cool down, not to be
reminded of how cavalier William is being.

Chi gets closer, and a voice
inside my head warns me to run away right now while I still can. I
ignore it. He comes right next to me and leans against the wall.
He’s not touching me, but his shoulder is only inches away from
mine. A shock of electricity courses through my body, and my heart
starts pounding upon being so close to him. He lifts his knee and
presses the sole of his shoe against the wall. He's relaxed and
casual while my heart is racing and hurting my chest.
Why can’t
I be more serene like him?

Chi doesn’t turn to me. He looks
straight ahead at the posters facing us. He moves and brushes my
hand with his fingertips. I gasp and almost pull back when he
slides his hand behind mine and slips a piece of paper against my
palm. He closes my hand around it, pulls away, and leans close to
my ear to whisper, “Just in case you ever get bored with him and
this stuck-up, nonsensical life.”

A chill dances down my spine. He
turns his face toward me and winks before pressing his index finger
to his lips in a shushing motion. He smiles and is gone just as
quickly as he appeared.
What just happened?
I take a deep
breath and hold the paper, twisting it between my fingers.
What
is this all about?
I don’t look at the note yet. It'd be too
risky to read it here. I drop it deep inside my purse and make my
way back to the ballroom.

I brace myself and try to find
William. He’s standing among his friends, with a drink in his hand.
He looks intoxicated. I finally understand why he's been avoiding
me all night to join his buddies. One of them must have sneaked in
some alcohol. I want to tell him I’m going home, but I don’t dare.
I wait a few seconds while scanning the room for a chair. I find
one a few inches from the table. I’m heading toward it when foreign
hands grab my waist. I jump and gasp in surprise. Someone kisses my
neck. I flinch and push the person back. I turn around; it’s only
William.

His eyes look dazed. He’s
completely drunk. I didn’t think I could feel any more
disappointment, but apparently I was wrong. My aversion deepens as
he tries to kiss me. I turn my face away so his lips brush against
my cheek before he says, “You look beautiful tonight, you know
that?”

This would have felt like a
compliment had it been said when William was sober. Instead, his
words make me feel dirty. I fear the drive back home. I don’t like
the hunger in his eyes. I want to sit down and wait until William
has sobered up, hoping he won’t drink more than he already has. But
instead, he utters the words I’ve been waiting for all evening and
am now dreading, “Let’s go. This ball is boring.”

He takes my hand in his and walks
me to the door, then through the courtyard, all the way to the
parking lot, where his driver is waiting for us. William stumbles
and giggles to himself. His hilarity makes me nervous. If he wanted
to, he could demand that our pre-nuptial night be tonight, and I
can’t accept that. It can’t happen when he’s intoxicated. We look
for his car. William is too inebriated to remember where his driver
was supposed to park.

Finally, we find the vehicle.
William knocks on the front passenger’s door. The driver is about
to get out, but William has already opened the back door. He climbs
in and extends his hand for me to take. I step into the car, close
the door behind me, and clip my seatbelt on. William is eyeing me
with carnal avidity. I shiver. I start a random conversation just
to take his mind off of his lustful thoughts.

"How did you enjoy your evening?"
I ask with a squeaky voice, choking on the lump in my
throat.

He closes the distance between us,
his lips only inches from mine. "The fun hasn't even started yet,"
he says.

A tremor courses right through me.
I can't move. He kisses me, deeply. His breath smells like alcohol.
I cringe, but try not to let it show. This is the first time a boy
has ever kissed me, and it has got to be one of the worst moments
of my life. I had daydreamed that it would be sweet and that it
would taste good. Instead, William is harsh and his breath is
repulsive. I’m ashamed that he’s kissing me with his driver sitting
right there. I steal a glance at him, but the man is looking
straight at the road, pretending not to notice William's lewd
behavior.

William pushes his tongue inside
my mouth and I almost gag. He runs his hands all over me, intrusive
and rough. The strap of my dress comes undone. I pull it back up. I
want to push him away, but I’m too scared of the consequences. If
he is to be my husband, I might as well get used to it now. After
all, love is a fairy tale, a luxury not even the rich can afford. I
know that, but I can’t help wishing for something other than this.
I was still hoping for my first time to be special.

The ride from the school to my
house should only take twenty minutes. I hope that won't leave him
enough time to do anything.
Please, don’t let him take me
somewhere else to do other things; not tonight, not like this!
Please, don't force me to do this in the car with the driver
sitting right there either.

He keeps on kissing me roughly
until he sits back and stares at me. "I think we should wait. I
don't feel like doing it right now. I'm too drunk, and I want to
enjoy it."

I'm so relieved, so thankful, that
tears rise to my eyes and a sob comes choking me. I wipe the tears
away before they can reach my cheeks. William just looks outside
the window as if none of this crude invasion has happened, as if
none of this matters, and I welcome his disinterest toward me. I'm
distraught and utterly disgusted with him. I’m not sure how I’ll be
able to keep on pretending that this is all fine with me. I don’t
like what I’ve seen of him so far, and I can’t believe that he
might become my husband someday. I examine him and the perfect
exterior he wears as a façade, a veneer, to hide a cold heart of
stone behind a wall of ice. I shudder and turn around to look at
the dark sky. I try to count my blessings, though I can’t seem to
find many of them right now.

By the time we arrive at my house,
a storm has gathered, with lightning electrifying the sky and rain
pouring down like tears that were repressed for too long. The
driver steps out to offer me an umbrella which I decline. I can’t
get away from William fast enough. I wish him goodnight, but he
doesn’t even turn his head to acknowledge me. A perfect ending to a
perfect date! I'm so glad the night is over that I don’t even take
offense. Time spent with William or his family comes with its own
range of grief and abasement. I only find relief when it ends.
How can I spend my life with him if I only find peace when
escaping him?

I run in my high heels, open the
door to my house with my spare key, and step inside, soaking wet.
Everyone's already asleep. I take the stairs quietly to my room, my
feet light on the boards. I'm careful not to wake anyone up. I have
no desire to talk about the events tonight. I just want to forget
the evening ever happened. When I'm finally inside the room, I come
crashing against the door and lean against it for support. Tears
roll down my cheeks as soon as I hit the wood with my head, with
waves of sadness swarming over me and a cloud of melancholy now
overcasting my sullen heart.

I pat my way to the bed and take
my dress off. I can’t stop crying. I put on my sleeping gown and
slide under the covers. They are cold and they smell of lavender—a
familiar, refreshing, and comforting scent. The weight of the union
is slowly crushing me. I have nothing to look forward to, nothing
to rejoice about. I’m trapped, chained inside a cage that society
has built for me and gilded with gold—the bars closing in on me
tightly.

I weep into my pillow for a long
time and pray for the coffin that is my life to become real and
suffocate me already. The whole evening turns dark and funereal as
I feel my last hopes die.

When my tears finally dry, I
remember the piece of paper inside my bag. I sit up, bend down over
the edge of the bed, and pat around for my purse. When I find it, I
pull it onto the comforter and open it up to find the paper hidden
inside. I take it out and feel its roughness against my fingertips.
I open it slowly. The handwriting on it is smooth. I think of the
hand that wrote the note—Chi’s hand—and the weight upon my
shoulders lessens. I read the words, but they confuse me. I drop
the paper back in the purse, and Chi's phrases spin inside my head,
like messages on a billboard. They flash at me like beacons of
light calling me back to life.

Chapter 7

Terror fills my
sleep with nightmares
of William forcing his way on me and
pinning me down. I'm screaming and pounding my fists against his
chest, but he won't stop. When I open my eyes, I can still smell
his foul breath against my mouth. I can still hear his loud and
cruel laughter, too. I shake my head to chase the bad dreams away,
but I know they will follow me all day.

Most nights, I manage to sleep
soundly, but only because I never want to wake up and slumber is
better than reality. I feel numb—all the time. In the evening, I
find myself wishing that I won’t arise the next day. And each
morning comes with excruciating pain and disappointment as I open
my eyes to find that I am, in fact, still alive. I've been having
trouble eating as well. I force myself to do so, for lack of
another choice, but each bite I take leaves a sour taste in my
mouth. Every day, I go through the same efforts to face my life, to
prepare myself for a future I did not choose.

This morning, I’m awake long
before Emily comes to my room. It's five o'clock, but I have no
desire to pull the pillow over my head and go back to sleep. It
will only bring more night terrors my way. The fog clouding my mind
makes me drowsy. It promises to be a bad day spent trying to stay
awake while dreading sleep.

I head to the bathroom, turn on
the faucet, and wash my face with cold water. The pounding in my
head is insistent, nauseating. I turn around and go back to my bed.
I still have about three hours before Emily walks in. Even on
weekends, I have to wake up early. Mother claims it helps me fight
self-indulgence and laziness.

I grab my purse and take out the
piece of paper. I open it and feel its texture against my skin.
It's reassuring for some reason. I study the handwriting, and
sudden longing fills my heart. The words on the note have ignited a
flame inside me, like a promise unspoken. The rhymes sound like
rebellion, but somehow, deep inside my heart, I can’t help but
agree with them. I can’t help but wish for it to be
true.

When the darkness meets the light,
in fear it shall flee.

Not all is what it seems, open your
eyes and you will see.

When the chains break apart, the
enslaved shall be free.

When the world has changed, a new
dawn it will be.

I turn the paper over, where a
place, a time, and a date have been written on the back.

Monday, 5.30 p. m – The
Arch

Make it happen!

Is this a date?
What is this boy thinking? How am I supposed to meet him?
My heart races with excitement at the thought of
doing something forbidden. I want to see Chi again. Mother has
always taught me not to crave what I could never possess. She told
me it would only bring me frustration, sadness, and anguish. Of
course, Mother is right, but a part of me is now yearning for what
I know I cannot have—one simple chance to break the rules and meet
the boy with dark brown eyes. The yearning inside me grows, a
sudden desire to get to know him, a need so sharp that it cuts
through my core. It's taking over, and a part of me just wants to
let it devour me whole.

Is his poem an invitation to
rebel? What darkness is he referring to?
Our world isn’t
perfect, but for sure, it’s not that bad, right?
And yet, I
can't deny that his rhymes echo something that I have felt inside
me for a while now. They express that desire I’ve had to flee, this
wish to hit something so hard it will break. They give resonance to
the rage I feel every single day, this anger that is starting to
oppress me.

The time of the meeting is not so
late that it would be hard to get there. I stay at school
occasionally after class to study with Melissa. Chi wants to meet
tomorrow though. The date isn't convenient, but I could tell Mother
I have a project to work on. I could leave school as if nothing was
going on, meet Chi, and return to the station before Walter comes
to pick me up.