Riana's Cavatina (Sonata of Love Book 2) Read online

  “I may or may not be a huge nerd—“

  “No...” Lexi laughed.

  “But I’m so excited to find time to do the Lord of the Rings tour!”

  “Your nerdiness is pretty adorable though, Ri. I’m really glad you get to do this. I’m also really glad that our apartment will stay clean for longer than two days now.”

  I laughed and tried to be offended, but she was absolutely right. I was a bit, shall we say, unorganized. “Whatever, you know you’ll miss me.”

  “Of course I’m going to miss you. I’m just not going to miss your laundry all over the place.”

  Twenty-eight hours after my arrival to the Minneapolis International Airport, I landed in New Plymouth, New Zealand. Considering how the longest flight I had ever been on prior to that was only a five hour flight to Halifax to see Samantha, my body was cramped up, I was absolutely exhausted and confused as to what actual day it was. Time travel certainly isn’t all it’s cracked up to be in sci-fi.

  We shuffled through customs at a less than desirable pace, and endured another forty-five minute bus ride to the extended stay hotel we were going to stay at. The conference we were attending was part of an “exchange of best practices” type of mission, discussing what worked best for us and what worked best for them and combining to hopefully better the situations of those trying to get out of relationships with domestic violence. I was in charge of leading the presentation on trauma-informed services and how having survivors as advocates could help facilitate a more open exchange of ideas.

  The air was salty, and the land was greener than I ever dreamed possible. New Zealand was absolutely stunning. It didn’t take me long to make my first new friends, aside from those I befriended on the flight, on the bus ride to the hotel. The attendees of the conference came from all over; The US, Canada, Ireland, Sweden, and even South Africa. The variety of accents sometimes slowed the conversations, but also increased the amount of active listening being done. There was no way to passively listen to anyone when the accents were so varied.

  There was a young man from Ireland, Connor, that took a pretty quick liking to me. I was essentially his first introduction to trauma-informed services and he often found me at meal times to sit and discuss the idea further. I enthusiastically told him of the work I’d done with the U of M Women’s Center and how we could see the impact of trauma informed services almost instantly. He also showed great interest in my ability to share my story of being a survivor.

  “So many of our victims are older, university age, yeah?” He said. “Not many um, find the strength to share much.”

  I smiled softly. “It’s an odd calling for sure. But I’m glad to share if doing so helps someone else.” I patted his hand, “I must say though, that it is really great to see men here who care about providing healing services for women. This battle will never be won by women alone, unfortunately. We need men like you.”

  “But men wouldn’t be inspired to help if it weren’t for women like you and the rest here who give voice to the struggles.”

  “Connor!” I laughed as we made our way back to our rooms after a long night of celebrating a successful conference. “I am perfectly capable of getting to my own room, thank you.”

  “I don’t know, lassie, I mean, you could hardly keep your bearings along the walk.” He said as he held me tightly around my waist. “I’ll just make sure you’re tucked in soundly.”

  The hair along my arms stood on end as I glanced at Connor and saw his face had lost all amusement and playfulness. We stood at my door and he looked down at me expectantly. “Well, we’re here.” I said uneasily. “I’m good now.”

  “Open the door, Riana.”

  I didn’t want to open the door. My body trembled as my heart raced. An instinctive panic built within me. His jaw clenched and his grip tightened. His voiced dropped and made my skin crawl. “This will be much easier if you just open the damn door.” He pushed me up against the door frame.

  My mind frantically tried to come up with a plan. “Connor, I um, I don’t know if you maybe read into our time together. But I’m—“

  “You’re going to open the fucking door.”

  I anxiously and quickly flicked my eyes down the hallway in each direction, desperate for someone to appear. I needed out, but could not for the life of me figure out a plan. It was clear that logic wouldn’t work, and I knew this was not simply misread signals.

  As I searched for my room key in my bag, he continued to grumble quietly. “I swear to Christ if you keep this up I’m going to make you regret it. I’ll fucking choke you and watch you die.”

  Once the card was swiped, he pushed me through the door and I fell to my knees. “Please Connor, don’t do this. You don’t want to do this.”

  As he clenched his fist into my hair and drug me to the bed I realized that he absolutely wanted to do this. “Don’t tell me what I want or don’t want Riana. I’m so tired of your bloody self-righteousness. I hate all of you and how you think you’re so goddamn empowered.” His hands pulled at my clothing, and tore out seams as he stripped me down. “Fucking bitches need to realize what your job is.”

  A misogynistic, violent, sociopathic rapist at a victim services conference. He actually hunts the women who challenge him the most.

  Only for a moment did I contemplate fighting back. I brought my hands up to try and cover myself as my shirt was ripped off me, and I started to cry. His closed fist connected with my temple and left me stunned. “Shut up!” He shouted. “You’re not so empowered now are you?”

  He snarled and grunted as he continued. His grip was as solid as iron around my wrists as he pinned me down. I thought back to when I was fourteen, I almost wished for a similar experience because at least with Dylan I was knocked unconscious. I didn’t want to be present for this.

  It’s one thing to advocate for others and assure them that whatever their response was to the assault, it was the right response because they survived. It’s another thing to believe it for yourself—especially when my response wasn’t fight or flight. I froze. Fear overtook me and prevented any attempt to protect myself or get away.

  The worst part wasn’t that he beat and raped me. The worst part was that he stayed, and continued to abuse and rape me through the night. I literally could not escape it. By the third time he violated me I simply wished for death. No part of my body was safe from his violations. Every part of me was tainted and destroyed.

  I remained curled in a ball and shook uncontrollably as I watched him finally get dressed.

  “If you tell anyone, I will come back and kill you.”

  The previous nine hours assured me that it wasn’t an empty threat. The moment the door closed behind him I crawled to the bathroom where I heaved into the toilet and cried uncontrollably. Once I was fairly certain there was nothing left to expel from my stomach I eased myself into the shower. It wasn’t until the stream washed over me and the water turned a disgusting reddish brown that I realized just how much damage his violations had done. I winced in pain as I tried to wash him away. I cried as I knew that I was also washing away most of the evidence. But I knew that he would follow through and kill me if I told anyone. There was no reason to hold off on the desperate cleansing.

  I stayed in the shower, repeatedly washing myself until the water turned cold. I shakily wrapped myself in a towel then dialed an all too familiar number on my phone.

  “This is Mel.” The three simple words broke me down and all I could do was wail into the phone. It was almost noon back in Minnesota and I remained on the phone with Mel for the next three hours. I wasn’t able to talk coherently for the first ten to fifteen minutes or so, but once she realized it was me on the other end she stayed there, quiet and consistent as always. I made her promise that she wouldn’t reach out to anyone she knew that may have been at the conference, because I couldn’t risk Connor finding out that I talked to anyone about it.

  “I can’t believe…that it happened again.” I sobbed.
“I’m so stupid.”

  “Ri, you are not stupid. You did everything right because you’re able to talk to me right now. You’re alive because you did whatever you had to do to survive.”

  “I should have known.” I cried.

  “How, Ri? Did he have ‘psychopathic rapist’ tattooed on his forehead? You aren’t a mind reader, honey. And you’re allowed to make male friends and you’re allowed to want to trust them. He made the decision to hurt you, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  After monopolizing Mel’s whole afternoon she reluctantly let me go. It was only early mid-morning, but knew that Lexi would be heading to work and I’d have to remain alone until the middle of the night when someone on my side of the world would be available to talk again. I was lost in my own head, unable to make any sense of what happened. I was unable to leave my room, but yet was simultaneously disgusted by my room—the constant reminder of the events that took place there. I was a prisoner in my mind, and my surroundings. My body seemed to give up, overtaken by the exhaustion of remaining so hyper-vigilant and I would end up passing out into short naps on the floor or the couch. The thought of ever touching the bed again made me dry heave. My day was a blur of mental breakdown, physical illness, and exhaustion induced periods of night terror filled sleep.

  As the desperation overtook me, as well as the need to connect to someone in order to process, I considered writing to Matt again. The time difference destroyed any real chance to talk with Mel, and I wasn’t sure how to tell Lexi. I couldn’t even imagine telling Ryan about it. Despite knowing logically that an assault didn’t constitute cheating on a partner I was sure he’d see it that way. I did.

  It had been so long since I’d sent Matt a letter that the thought of doing so made me feel childish. How would I even start such a letter? I was sure that it wasn’t like he noticed if I wrote or not—at least I wouldn’t have to catch him up on the last few years, right? But there was a relentless call to get it out, put it on paper.

  I doodled along the edge of my notebook. I started about five different letters to Matt, but nothing ever felt right. I turned yet another page and just wrote. I didn’t write to him, or Lexi, or Sam. I didn’t write to anyone, or for anyone. As the words spilled from my mind to the pages I started to sob. Despite the blubbering mess I turned into, I continued to write. I sniffled, coughed, wheezed, and sobbed, but I never stopped writing. It was messy, incoherent, filled with conflicting scenes, feelings, timelines, and often left without conclusions. Pages turned, crumpled, and were half torn out of the notebook as I raged on. I shook my hand as it ached and burned, cramping up in rebellion to the relentless pursuit of the words that always seemed to linger just at the forefront of my mind. Still, I pushed on. It was instinctual, a need more automatic than the ragged breaths that broke through the sobs.

  I’m not sure that I was even conscious of the words that became etched into the page. All I knew was that more than words, it was my soul itself being poured onto the paper. Hours passed—the pain in my hand far surpassing an inconvenient cramp. I never turned the pages back. I knew that reading anything would only stall me, or worse yet—silence me.

  And then—as the morning songbirds started to sing—I just stopped. My tears had long since dried, despite the emotional torment that continued to swirl within me. I took a shaky breath and closed my notebook. I placed it along with my pen on my desk and tried to get comfortable on the couch in my room, unwilling to go anywhere near the bed.

  When I woke up the next morning, I knew I couldn’t stay any longer. I wasn’t ready, or willing, to try to navigate a different country’s legal system and I simply wanted to be back home where I felt safe and had people I knew I could trust and talk to. I booked my flight and then called Ryan.

  “Riana? Wow, what time is it there?”

  “Um, about 7am. Wednesday.”

  Ryan laughed in amusement. “That’s still just crazy to me. Noon on Tuesday on my end. What’s going on babe, how’s life down under?”

  I forced myself to laugh lightly. “Pretty sure down under only applies to Australia. But um, things aren’t great here. I, um, I’m coming home.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t. I can’t really talk about it. I will. Just not now. I just needed to hear your voice. And I was wondering if you could pick me up from the airport? Thursday night, 11:20pm?”

  “Yeah, absolutely.”

  I contacted Mel again before I left and we developed a plan that would alert the authorities to the predator lurking at the conference. I was not in a place emotionally to attempt to navigate the criminal justice systems of New Zealand, Ireland, and the United States. Chances were, the logistical nightmare that would ensue was the exact reason Connor hunted at conventions like this with potential victims from all over the world.

  I made a detour to the U.S. Embassy, got an escort to the local hospital, and endured another rape evidence collection exam. I knew a lot of physical evidence had been washed away—but the bruising and internal damage remained. I explained that I was more than willing to give a statement, but was unable to stay and press charges.

  I could only hope that what I provided them would prevent Connor from further victimizing women from the conference.

  Another experience in time travel and I was safely back home. I couldn’t wait to put everything that happened in New Zealand behind me. I was hopeful that I could find some resemblance of safety and comfort in Ryan. But when my plane landed that Thursday and I gathered my bags from the corral, no one was there to meet me.

  I sent him text after text, and when I tried to call it went directly to voicemail. “What a dick.” I grumbled as I went to catch a taxi to mine and Lexi’s apartment.

  After I lugged all my bags into my room, showered, and changed I crept over to Lexi’s room. I tapped on the door lightly as I opened it. “Lex?” I whispered. I took stock of her room, made sure no one already shared her bed before I slipped under the covers just as I had countless times over the last ten years. Only then did I feel safe enough to relax and get some actual rest.

  After days of trying to reach Ryan without any result, I finally just went to his and Marcus’ apartment. It was a bit of an unspoken rule with us that he only came to my place, I rarely stayed at his, especially after our first breakup. My hands shook as I worked up the nerve to knock at their apartment door. I’m fairly certain it was only ten to fifteen seconds before the door opened, but in those ten seconds I thought about running away at least a dozen times.

  “Riana?”

  “Hey Marcus. Um, is Ryan around?”

  He opened the door more and motioned me to step inside. “For sure. What’s going on? Haven’t seen you around much.”

  “Well, I was in New Zealand for a couple weeks.”

  “No shit? Wow.”

  “Ryan didn’t mention that?”

  Marcus gave a small shrug and shook his head. “Nope. But I mean, since y’all haven’t been together for a while now, maybe he forgot?”

  I cleared my throat as my face flushed and his words echoed in my head. “haven’t been together…” I didn’t have much time to dwell on his statement as he called Ryan out of his room. Ryan opened his door in only his boxers. His hair was disheveled, and he groaned as he rubbed his eyes.

  “Fuck Marcus, what? You know I had a long night.” He stopped rubbing his face and his gaze fell on me. His face evened and he glanced to Marcus.

  “I’m gonna step out for a bit.” Marcus said as he shifted under the tension between me and Ryan.

  “Good plan.” Ryan said.

  We waited silently and stood on opposite sides of his living room as Marcus gathered his keys, sunglasses and shoes before leaving.

  “Riana.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “You forget about something the other night?”

  Ryan furrowed his brow as he thought back, and my rage only grew. “Me, Ryan! You forgot me! Remember, Thursday night, my flight!? What the fuck Ryan!”
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br />   “Oh shit, baby, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t ‘baby’ me. You knew damn well I was coming in. And yet clearly turned off your phone because I tried to call you Ryan, so many times. What the hell were you doing?”

  The anger wasn’t just because of him. It was the only vocal expression of my rage I’d had since the assault happened and it seemed that things needed to get out.

  “I got called into work.”

  “And you couldn’t tell them you had plans!? Or how about sending me a message to let me know you weren’t coming? Do you even know why I needed you so badly!? You have any fucking idea what happened in New Zealand? No! No you don’t because you weren’t there when I needed you Ryan!”

  As I collapsed onto his couch in tears he finally came to me. He placed his hand on my knee and I flinched.

  “Don’t, Ryan. Don’t touch me. Please.”

  “Ri, what happened?”

  There was a gentleness to his voice I never heard before. And so I told him. I told him how Connor violently attacked me. I told him how he repeatedly took me by force. I told him how I knew I’d be killed if I fought back or told anyone. I sobbed as I locked on Ryan’s green eyes and told him how I thought of him, and how it’d be okay if I could just make it back to him. Ryan bit his lip and reached his hands out to me. I slipped my fingers between his and squeezed as I continued to cry.

  “And I’m so sorry Ryan, I’m so sorry that someone else…had me.” I scooted into Ryan’s lap, desperate for forgiveness. “I never want anyone else to have me.” In that moment Ryan knew that I saw the assaults as more of a transgression against him than I did violent acts upon me.

  He placed his hand on the back of my head and hugged me. “It’s okay Ri. You’ll be okay.”

  I crawled further into his lap and placed my knees on either side of his hips. I kissed along his neck, as an ache to feel loved and cared for overtook me. I needed him to still want me. I pulled away from his neck and locked my eyes on him. His gaze softened before he closed the short distance between us and gently kissed my lips. I ran my hands along his bare skin and rocked into him.