Chapter 9:

There you are, my precious

From long ago.

Grabbing my crotch, elated,

Taking control.

Why is it always, you fuck up something you have always had?

Why do you try to tell me,

How could you be so cold?

Dearest Jimmy,

By the time you get this, it’ll be a week before I come to you in California. I packed all my bathing suits already and everything…I can’t wait! I keep thinking about everything we’re going to do, and all the fun we’re going to have together. Is it okay if I bring my laptop? I get flashes of inspiration sometimes, and if I don’t write them down I lose them. Maybe you can even read some of my story and tell me how it is so far. Don’t worry, I won’t write the entire time, or at all, even. I need it just in case…

How are you doing, baby? I know you must be lonely, just as I am. You’re going to have to show me the room you told me about—you know, the room where you keep all the art the kids mail to you. That must be amazing. I wish I could be like that…most of the people that read my books never guess that I’m really a 24 year-old waitress for a Pizza Palace. The only people that send me fan mail are weird, obsessed fanatics. It’s just abnormal to send an author fanmail, don’t you think? Oh, well, that’s okay.

So, you say that I’m going to be taped with you on Monday? Even on Monday night? I hope not…you must have been kinda upset about that arrangement. After you told me about your thoughts on MTV to begin with, I can only imagine what you said to them. Head probably has a problem with that too, am I right? Ha. I know him very well.

Give ‘em hell, guys!

I know exactly what it feels like to work hard to make a name for myself in my field…but that story can wait for another day. I wish I were with you right now. You know what I realized though, Jimmy? You may be thousands of miles away, but your heart is right here with me, just as my heart is with you on the sunny beaches of California. Whenever I lay in my bed, I think of what we did, and it makes me feel as if you were right with me, loving me as you had. I’ve never been happier. I’m following my heart, and in two days I’ll be with you. I love you so much.

Love,

Sheena

P.S. I have some surprises for you, my love. What do you like better, handcuffs or whips? Hehe..

P.S.S. Just kidding. Unless you don’t want me to be kidding…

P.S.S.S. You’re right! I followed your advice and got "Who Then Now?" I can’t believe that Brian licked beer off the floor and that David mooned the camera! I laughed my ass off. You were funny, too…

Sheena finished the letter and placed it in an envelope. She tucked it into the front apron of her waitress outfit, and walked down the stairs to her work. She skipped into the kitchen, humming merrily. The cook, a bald man with specs named Henry, asked her what was so great. He was always grumpy, Sheena said, and told him to let light into his life.

"You’re on drugs," was his conclusion as she checked in her time on her slip. She turned on the coffee machine, and made her own coffee when it had heated. At five in the morning, there wasn’t much business, and so she cared for the few customers that came in for a quick coffee or pancake. Sheena didn’t have to work at this restaurant, even though she had devotedly for the past four months. She had millions of dollars in the bank from her three best-sellers. And maybe that’s why she worked there so freely. Waitressing at the small restaurant was hard work, and yet it was somewhat rewarding. Instead of spending the entire day wasting away in her apartment, she spent all day happily chatting with the busy customers. She learned about their lives, where they’d been, where they were going. She saw infants, pregnant women, and dying old ladies; she saw men who’d survived car accidents and young women who’d survived cancer. Everyone that visited the small restaurant, it seemed, had a story to tell. It was a great place for inspiration.

As the clock turned six, an aging man walked into the restaurant, and isolated himself in the booth on the far side of the restaurant. After he had sat for a few minutes, patiently reading the paper, she pulled out her pad and approached him.

"Do you want to start off with anything to drink, sir?" she asked politely. She pushed down her pen with a click, and readied her pad to write down his beverage.

"Yeah. You can help me with something. Do you know who I am, Sheena?" She stared as he turned his face up to hers. The prominent gash that ran from his left cheek to his lip struck her eye. The pen dropped to the floor. That familiar face, that face, the face that had aged so and yet had stayed the same…

(Can opener pushed down and forced pushed down and forced)

"Well, do you?" he asked when she didn’t answer. Her face twitched. Tears pushed behind her eyelids. He couldn’t be here; she hadn’t seen him in years.

"Yes." It was all she said.

She refused to call him Dad.

His hand snapped like a whip and pulled her down until his face was inches from hers. His stale breath tickled her face. Sorrow flowed freely from her eyes. When she tried to pull away from his tightening grip, he yanked her to him and said quickly,

"Your mother kicked me out of the house, so I used the money from her savings to come here and visit my beautiful lil girl. I know I’ll be back with your mother before next week, you watch. She can’t live without me. My beautiful, beautiful daughter, find anymore love toys yet? I’m sure you have—you fuck those boys so good they always come back for more—"

She screamed, and pulled away from him. Other customers whispered in low tones. One biker with a bald head and lip earring stood up, uncertain whether to approach them.

Her father tapped a fat finger on the table. "I’m getting sick of these charades, Sheena. Why do you avoid me? Do you hate me? What in the sam fucking hell did I ever do to you to make you feel like you were—"

Sheena stormed into the back. "I quit!" she screamed to Henry as he flipped pancakes. However, she stayed in the back of the restaurant—where it was safe—until he was sure her father had left. Henry said nothing; shrugged his shoulders and told her to get some Midol and come back for the afternoon shift.

*****************************************************************************

I’m sorry that you cried on the phone with me last night. I hope you feel better now. Sometimes I have people in my life that I see that bring back bad memories, too. If you need to talk about it, I’ll talk to you. I’ll always be there for you, no matter what, and I mean that. If anything is seriously bothering you, don’t hesitate to tell me. I wrote this letter in the hope that it will reach you before you leave for here, but if not it will be filled with a bunch of useless information.

I’m so excited that you’re coming. I made a guest bedroom up for you, just in case you want to sleep in your own bed (who knows? You may have your reasons). On Monday we’ll be filmed until midnight, and then they’ll move onto Head’s house (which he’ll just love)! I already know that Monday night will be the longest night of my life….argh. I wish MTV would just back off. We’ll have to watch the specials when they air, though; that should be interesting. The guys and I are thinking of ways to annoy the camera people. Here are some activities we thought up that will make for unairable material:

1. Shooting Heroine (Jon’s idea, but don’t worry, Sheena, he’s not on drugs).
2. Hiring porn stars to walk around naked in the studio (Head’s idea, of course).
3. Us walking around naked the entire time (not likely).
4. Continually mooning the camera at unexpected times (now that might work).
5. Asking the camera men to film home-made pornos.
6. Defacing pictures of Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys.
7. Using nothing but swears when we fucking talk about fucking anything.
8. Ranking on MTV non-stop (how they’re all gay, etc. and other stupid shit they’d never air)…shich, of course, we will be doing.
9. Spitting, kissing, and relieving ourselves on the cameras as they film.
10. Attacking the camera men with our instruments.
11. And, the most straight-forward: break the cameras and murder the crew.

Sorry I’m being so dirty, but right now I can’t help myself. I always get the jitters whenever I do TV specials…and when I think about having you in my house for entire week. I can’t wait!

Love,

Jimmy

P,S. I like handcuffs AND whips. Both please.

Sheena folded the letter into her pocket after reading it for the millionth time. She’d gotten it in the mail just as she’d left the airport, and had read it during the plane flight on and off the entire time. She’d gotten on her second plane in Michigan three hours ago, and had about half an hour left before she’d arrive at LAX. Her laptop laid open in front of her, untouched for several minutes. She had landed a deal with Playboy Magazine; her short story would be featured in the Articles section. She had a great idea—it was genius—but she didn’t know how to write it. She was currently in what she liked to call a pothole. She’d worked herself up to a certain point, and just as she was ready to write it, she’d totally blanked. There was something not quite right with the situation, and that was because she’d rushed. Blankly, she looked at the screen. She started to type.

"’We’re going to have to’

"’What? You can’t possibly think I’d ever—‘ Bakersfield protested as they placed him in handcuffs and told him to spread em; they had to make sure he was unarmed.

"’I don’t think anything, sir. It’s standard procedure.’ They exchanged looks Bakersfield decided it was best to ignore.

"So, they led him through his corridor. Bakersfield saw his career ending at the blink of an eye. He wasn’t a smart man, necessarily; he had worked years and years to gain the required knowledge to excel in medical science. The old woman with narcolepsy, the young boy with Hodgkins disease watched him with sad, lonely eyes, as if they had been betrayed by a man they had loved dearly, a man they had depended on. The other members of his staff watched him, not daring to make eye contact but unable to refuse a glance. His white hair hung limply before his face, hiding himself from the sneaked looks and the loving eyes. He knew his career was down the fucking john. What could he do now? Even if they found that he wasn’t the killer, the hospital wouldn’t rehire him. No matter what, he had been a suspect. By the time he had reached the elevator, tears slipped down his wrinkled cheeks.

"His mind worked like an elastic band as they shoved him into the elevator and closed the door.

"’Janitor here! Young boys, can you wait a minute for me? I have to bring this here down to the basement,’ the janitor said. He smiled to Bakersfield; frowned when the old man saw his face. His bucket of soapy water sloshed as he rested his mop in there.

"In the silence Bakersfield started to think about the data sheets. Mrs. Wilson, Mr. Hodgkins…in two days, there had been two murders, each discovered at the exact same time…

"By who? By Bakersfield himself. He vaguely remembered the wet floor that had fooled his feet into slipping into Mrs. Wilson’s dead body…

"And what time was it now? He tilted his wrist to look down at the wristwatch located where his hands had been handcuffed, hanging over his crotch. His breath caught in his throat.

"2:21. One minute before 2:22.

"Two murders, at 2:22. He did the arithmetic as his mind began to swirl. There was a pattern, a meaning; he knew it in his bones. He finally came up with a thought that chilled him. He worked on the sixth floor. If 2:22 and 2:22 were added together, it would mean 4:44. But that wasn’t right.

"’Figured it out yet?’ asked the janitor.

"’What?! Huh!?’ Bakersfield almost screamed.

"The janitor showed the doctor a flash of his deformed front teeth as he grinned sardonically. ‘You look like you got the world on your shoulders.’

"Yeah…

"He thought, thought hard, glanced at the ID number on the side of the dirty water bucket. His heart stopped.

"6:66. It said 666.

"Even before the janitor exploded—dynamite wrapped around his thin waist--the doctor knew he was dead. And, suddenly, as Bakersfield’s vision collapsed in red, it was 2:22."

"That was pretty cool," the teenager said. When she inquired if he’d been reading over her shoulder, he blushed and admitted that he had.

"That’s alright." She stopped, decided whether or not to ask, and then said, "Is that KoRn you’re listening to right now?" She could swear that was a KoRn song, what was the name? The guitar riff was so familiar…Divine.

"Yeah, it’s Divine," he said, and smiled. They talked about KoRn. Obviously he was a big fan. She smiled, and asked him if he could keep a secret.

"Yeah, why?"

"Jim—Munky’s picking me up at the airport."

"NO FUCKING WAY!" the kid cried, disturbing old women and urging young children to ask their annoyed parents, "Mommy, what does ‘fucking’ mean?" Several flight attendants warned that if he didn't clean up his language he’d be walking back to Michigan. In his usual adolescent arrogance, he placed his headphones on and ignored them. When they’d finally cleared away, he took them off again. They received looks from other passengers, partially because of his blue hair and her tolerance of his language. Sheena didn’t care. It made her feel like a teenager again, young and giddy and indifferent.

"Are you serious?" he asked when they’d left the spotlight.

"Yes."

He let that sink in, and then settled down. "He’s my favorite member," he admitted to her. And then he said, as Sheena had expected to him to, "Can I have your autograph?"

"For being Jimmy’s girlfriend?" she laughed. She signed his Discman with a permanent marker anyway, and as he did he answered her honestly.

"Well, yeah, for that, and because you might be a famous writer someday. And then it’d be real valuable."

"Too late," she said. "Ever hear of Skye Cullens? Or the books "Thrash" and "The Seventeenth Floor?" she asked slowly, wondering if such a young man had ever heard of her racy literature. He thought for a minute. His eyes perked. He told her that his mother had her books, and that she read them whenever they came out. This made Sheena smile. She told him that Munky was being taped for an MTV special when they arrived at the airport, and that it would look bad if she walked up to him with a fan that wanted his autograph. But if he approached them from out of the blue…

"Good idea," he said. "I know that it would look bad for you if I showed up with you. So when I see you two I don’t know you. I just recognize Munky. Gotcha," he said, and settled back, anticipating. He turned up his headphones louder than ever now.

"Right."

The plane landed, and Sheena grabbed her belongings. She couldn’t wait to see Munky, and no old women or little children were gonna hold her up. She had waited oh so long for this moment. No one was going to hold her back; not even the teenager she sat next to. The head flight attendant—a dainty woman with blonde hair and missing front teeth—began to instruct the passengers as to how they should conduct themselves and where to exit. Come on! Come on! Sheena urged impatiently as the old woman babbled on about their standard procedure. She finally finished, and then announced,

"Is there a Sheena Upton here? A Sheena Upton?"

Sheena stood up and waved. A man from the back came to her, and instructed her to place a microphone on herself. She did so reluctantly, pinning it the inside of her blouse as the teen watched in wide-eyed wonder. His dreams were coming true—the girl wasn’t lying! His smile was incomparable to any other.

"Okay, now when you approach Jimmy make sure that this stays on. You have to keep it on all day until it’s time for us to leave. It may be a bit bright in his house, but that’s because we’ve installed ultra-violet lighting in there so that the cameras will film—"

Sheena vaguely noticed that everyone watched them. He instructed her on all aspects of what not to do: not to swear, not to discuss inappropriate behavior, not to touch, grab or poke Munky in inappropriate places. What is this, a filming of a Partridge Family episode? she thought as he told her all the things that she could and couldn’t do in order to stay under the context of a contract she hadn’t even signed.

She had a sudden flashback to Munky’s latest letter, which tucked into her pocket. Now, she saw the humor in it. Munky was right; MTV had turned into a Nickelodeon for teenyboppers. She listened to every rule, knowing very well that she wouldn't comply. She stopped him in mid-sentence, saying,

"Alright, I gotcha. Now can I get outta here and see him?"

"Alright, come on," he said as he helped her out. The boy now grabbed his belongings. He’d have to be quick if he was going to catch Munky before he left. Sheena quickly set down the hall, almost running. She abandoned the MTV executive and ran down the blank corridor alone. When she walked out into the busy airport, however, her heart fell.

He wasn’t there.

*****************************************************************************

Sheena! She was coming today! He bolted upright in his bed, and glanced through the dark in the side of his room. A red light blinked. He froze.

"Hey yo, that better be a fucking camera."

"Good morning," a cameraman said, from behind his huge camera. Suddenly, the light to his room switched on, and temporarily blinded him with its unforgiving brightness. He realized that there were at least five people in his room, watching as he slept. They placed a microphone on him as he dressed, and reminded him of the guidelines he’d agreed to by signing the contract.

"Yeah, whatever," Munky said as he shaved. He wanted to look good for Sheena. He was so excited that she was coming. The past few weeks had been extremely long, and now that the day had finally come he was excited beyond words, beyond emotions.

The crew couldn’t fit in his sports car if Sheena were going to ride home with him from the airport. They could only fit one camera, and it sat in the front seat with him, watching with a huge eye as he drove. They waited for the cue to conduct the interview they had planned. He turned on Tool, and whistled to himself on the way there. He turned it down obediently as the woman began to speak behind the large camera. He figured that after the meeting from hell, this would be KoRn’s and MTV’s last teaming; might as well make it one to remember. When the camerawoman asked him where Sheena lived and what she did for a living, he said, "She lives in New Jersey, real far away. I went there once, it’s real nice. She works as a waitress during the day and in her free time she’s a writer. She’s written three best-sellers, is working on her fourth one as we speak, most likely."

"And how did you two meet?" the woman asked, after Munky had told her the books she’d written, and how good they were. And gone on and on and on…

"We met because during Family Values Jon was going through a bunch of bad shit"—he couldn’t help but swear. It was so casual that the camerawoman didn’t notice it, either. "We needed someone to help him. So we got a hold of Renee and this girl he knew in high school, Sheena. She stayed with us in our tour bus and everything, and take it from there." Taking care of Jon wasn’t the real reason that Sheena had come, but it was suitable for the press. How much care Jon really needed wasn’t suitable for the press, either.

When they arrived at the airport, he sat down to a coffee, and signed the autograph of the occasional fanatic that recognized him. A parent, even, approached him, saying that her daughter was a huge fan. He glanced at his watch, and swore when he saw the time, breaking his contract. And he didn’t apologize. Running through the halls and pushing past the people, he made it to her air terminal. His dreadlocks flew behind him as he ran. He stopped suddenly, scanning the people.

Sheena!

She’d just come from her terminal, and was searching for his face in the seething river of people around them. Their eyes met at exactly the same moment, and she ran as fast as she could without dropping her large bag behind her. Her lips found his, and, crying, she slipped her tongue into his warm mouth. She tasted his love and his yearning. Their love dissolved into a bunch of frantic pecks on the cheeks, lips, and nose.

"Sheena, I missed you I missed you I missed you," he mumbled quickly as he planted kisses on her forehead, her chin. She reveled in his arms. Her heart flew above the clouds and into heaven. She never wanted that moment to end.

"Um, excuse me, are you Munky—er—Jimmy?" asked a familiar voice. Sheena and Munky spun around to see Blue Hair. He avoided eye contact with her as Munky quickly signed his autograph and shook hands with him.

"You’re my inspiration, man," said the kid. Munky smiled back as the cameras watched them with their huge, gaping eyes. The cameramen still puffed from the effort of lugging their huge cameras through what seemed half a mile of crowds.

"Cool. Keep playing. That’s the only way you get really good."

"Jack! Come on!" cried a young female voice from the crowd. A young girl, about his age, came up behind him and wrapped an arm around his waist.

"I’m so glad you’re back. Come on, baby, come on—"

"Alright," he said, and gave Munky one last final smile. "I need to go."

"You and me both," Munky answered before wrapping an arm around Sheena, laughing to himself at the odd twist the kid had wrought upon the situation.

"Nice meeting you!"

"Good luck, man!"

As soon as the kid was gone, they retrieved Sheena’s things from the conveyor belt and headed to the parking lot. They jumped into Munky’s corvette—a cameraman sitting in the back before Munky could take off—and sped onto the highway L.A. style. Sheena leaned over to him, kissing the stiff hairs on his neck. Her hand ventured to his chest to his stomach to his leg. She tapped it with her fairly long fingernails. She whispered to him things the microphone could pick up. And she didn’t care. His foot became heavier and heavier on the gas pedal until he was going well over 100. He wanted to get home as soon as possible; fuck the cameras.

"I want you," he said back as she ran her tongue over his earrings. He swerved onto his road. Flicking his signal light expertly, he pulled into his driveway. They ran together, and locked his front door behind them. The cameramen had been issued copies of the keys; they caught on film Munky running up the stairs, his pants at his ankles. Sheena’s finger lured him into the bathroom from the top of the stairs. He kicked his pants off as he ran in after her. The cheap brass lock of the door clicked as it locked.

Chink.

The shower turned on. For ten minutes, all was silent, until the microphones attached to their discarded clothes caught the sounds they couldn’t bite back. The cameramen waited patiently until they’d stepped out again. Munky was in his boxers, drooping lazily over Sheena’s back as she giggled; his shirt was in the living room and his pants were at the top of the stairwell. He put them on as soon as he reached them.

"You have a nice house," Sheena said, even as Munky leaned on her from behind. "Do you keep it up yourself or do you hire a maid?"

He moved beside her. "I keep care of it myself. It’s not that hard; I don’t make that much of a mess." With a grin, he led her to the room where he’d written his best work. The cameras followed. Sheena marveled at the artwork that adorned the walls, as well as the extensive amount of music equipment. About twelve guitars stood in a neat row, along with twenty-two foot pedals and a wall stacked with amps of various shapes and sizes. A music stand and a swivel chair stood decidedly out of place in the middle of the extravaganza.

"This is amazing," was all she could say. She flicked her wet hair lightly.

"Yeah. I can’t believe so many people spend all this time drawing me," he said. He ran a hand down a portrait of him. It was very life-like. The effort the fan had put into it flowed from the ink on the paper to his fingertips.

"Well, you’re special." Sheena smiled. He told her she was, too, and hugged her in the middle of the room. Kissing her gently, he said he loved her. She replied automatically. Hooking her thumbs in the belt rungs of his pants, she pulled him towards her. He whispered to her that he had to leave for the studio in fifteen minutes, if she wanted to come. She said sure, that she wanted to see Brian and Jon, and went to comb her hair. Munky pulled open a drawer as soon as she’d gone and pulled out a nicotine gum. He chewed on it. Savored the satisfaction.

The cameras watched him.

Munky sang enthusiastically, sending Sheena into a fit of hysterics. On the way to the studio, Munky had changed the channel to a pop station purposely after Sheena remarked her disdain for it. His hand thumping on the wheel as he veered left and right, he sang until tears of laughter ran down her face. He leaned towards her as they pulled into the parking lot. He sang softly,

"Oh, shut up, Munky," she said, pushing him away with a smile behind hers. "You’re so on drugs right now."

He continued to sing with a grin, even as she left the car. "She has got so much to offer." He sighed exaggeratedly with the singer. Sheena had to drag him out of the car, and he let her take him out, all except for the two fists that gripped the stereo as the radio blasted the Backstreet Boys’ latest single. She gave up, and stood straight. She shrugged in easy-minded exasperation, her cheeks red from laughter. He moved from the car, and as the huge camera eyes twinkled in amusement he broke out into an unpracticed break dance.

"If I was a Backstreet Boy, I’d sue," was all Sheena said after he’d completed his little fiasco and wiped the dirt from the pavement off his knees. He turned to the cameras and said, "Ha. Backstreet Boys my ass." With that, he wrapped an arm around a waiting Sheena and together they made their way, laughing, through the front doors. In the studio, Head sat, a foolish grin on his face, his eyes half-closed. A faint odor met Munky’s nostrils and made his face tilt. He sniffed again and recognized the scent. Jon, David, and Fieldy were in the other room, Head informed.

"Man, is that jeeba I smell?" he asked. Head nodded, and motioned Sheena and Jimmy to sit next to him. Head fingered five wrapped joints. Jimmy’s eyes softened as he turned to Sheena.

"Sheena, I haven’t gotten fucked-up since—"

She greeted his begging gaze with a smile and a shrug. Sitting on his lap, she took one from Head and lit it with his cigarette lighter, lightly inhaling a hit and letting it exhale slowly through her nostrils. "It’s okay, baby," she said as the ever so familiar burning sensation of the tangent fumes seeped into his lungs.

As Munky and Sheena enjoyed a fatty together, Head left. He stumbled back in with a bag of potato chips and chowed down ravenously. "I am so fucked up right now," he said in a slurred voice as crumbs of chips fell from his mouth. They laughed drunkenly. Half an hour later, when they were extremely fucked-up, Jon, David, and Fieldy opened the door, only to be greeted by a cloud of thick black smoke and an army of cameras. Fieldy immediately lit it up, whereas Jon and David declined. They had their reasons. Instead, they watched the shenanigans of the four potheads. First they tried to play charades, and then Twister without the floor mat. It didn’t work very well. It took Sheena a while to realize Jon was there, but when she did her bloodshot eyes cringed into a smile and she stumbled into his arms.

"Jon," she said in a slurred voice as she dropped forward, leaning against him.

"What’s up, baby?"

"I’m doing good." She laughed as if he’d just said the funniest thing in the world. She wandered back to Munky as he lay on his back on the floor. Music blasted suddenly into their ears as Fieldy turned on his Juvenile CD. He turned it down a bit, and then began to dance. In a slurred voice, he sang

Head’s head bobbed to the beat as he lit another fatty, and Sheena grabbed it after his first hit. She took a hit of it herself and went to Fieldy. She danced with him, and got her booty on during the chorus. Although high beyond imagining, Fieldy and Sheena had a lot of flavor,

Sheena and Fieldy bowed as their audience (Jon and David now a bit tipsy from the fumes) applauded them fiercely.

"Let’s get some porn stars in this motherfucker," Head started. He was stopped when a cameraman had insisted that he had to stay inside the guidelines of his contract. He stared into the camera eyes as far as his slitted eyes could manage. "What the fuck, man? You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do—"

"You signed a contract."

"Fuck you."

"I’m warning you—" the cameraman insisted.

Head opened his mouth to speak, and then stopped. He leaned over really close to the camera, and then kissed it once, twice, three times. He licked it as the cameraman watched from inches away in disbelief.

"Can you make out with the camera?" he wondered aloud. He found out that yes, he could, as he frenched it, and as the others laughed hysterically. When he was done, he backed from the camera and said, rubbing his chest,

"Just wait until you come to film me tomorrow night." He walked closer now to the cameraman, who visibly backed away. He said softly, "We’ll have so much fun." With that, he pulled down his pants and mooned the camera.

The room shattered in hysteria.

It was Head’s turn to break out into dance now, his pants at his ankles. Munky laughed until he passed out as Head spanked his ass through candy-striped boxers and shuffled from side to side.

Munky had to wait for the high to subside before he drove him and Sheena home. Sheena had fallen asleep after smoking an unbelievable amount of pot and downing over twenty shots of Jack and Coke with Fieldy. He carried her limp body to the car, and drove home in silence. Carrying her into the house, he brought her up to his bedroom and kicked open the door. He laid her on his bed and then got in himself. Struggling to ignore the cameras watching him, he fell asleep.

When he woke up, Sheena wasn’t there. He looked to the member of the camera crew assigned to watch him, but she wouldn’t answer; that would be crossing The Line: she wasn’t supposed to interfere with the lives of the people she taped. Too late. By just being here you’re interfering, he thought bitterly. He jumped out of the bed and descended the stairs. Sheena was pouring herself a glass of water. He snuck up behind her. Grabbed her waist. Watched in amusement as she leaped a foot in the air and as the cup she held fell to the ground, spilling its contents all over the floor.

"Jimmy!" she scolded lightly as she grabbed a towel. As an afterthought, she handed him one, too. After all, it was partially his fault. "Why’d you scare me like that?"

"I love you," he said, as if it were a plausible answer. They both got to their knees. She kneeled over a spot to clean, and he kneeled across from her. As they dried, they drew closer, until she brushed her lips against his forehead. He turned up. Growled—a deep, flirty, rumbling, sexy sound—and teased a giggle from her. She fetched the collar of his shirt in her hand. "Come here, you," she said, and pulled him on top of her. They fooled around until the peering cameras that refused to blink advised them to refrain from doing anything they wouldn’t air. Reluctantly, Munky got up and helped Sheena to her feet. As he turned away, she rolled up her wet towel. The smack as it slapped his bottom hard echoed throughout the house. She dashed across the living room as soon as he’d spun around to grab her. Towel in hand, he sprinted after her.

"Come back here you little—" he said, laughing and chasing her. He pursued her up and down the stairs, up and down the halls, in and out of the rooms. Whenever he thought he had her cornered, she managed to escape. One time, however, Sheena unlocked the door to the bathroom, and stepped into an empty hallway.

"Jimmy?" she called. No answer. Excitement bobbed under her skin. She knew he was around any corner—

"Jimmy?"

Nothing.

Munky waited excitedly for her to come. He hid at the end of the hallway, where his hall ended and spread into his kitchen and living room. Her footsteps came closer and closer until…they were so close, just one more step—

"Jimmy? AAHH!"

"Gotcha!" he yelled as he grabbed her, and tackled her onto the couch. He pecked her on the cheek once, and laughed with her as he tickled her; turns out, she was extremely ticklish. In tears, they both stopped. He realized the pressure of his weight and let Sheena lay on top of him. She rubbed his temples as she spoke.

"I missed you. I missed this."

His eyes closed, he answered, "Yeah, me too. I missed you so much."

"I can’t believe I’m with you now. Like this. When I first met you I always wanted this, but—"

She was interrupted by his indicative laugh. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he spoke. "You have no clue how many nights on the last stretch of that tour that I cried myself to sleep with just longing for a look from you."

"I know. I feel so sorry about that now."

"I love you so much. I always will. It doesn’t matter what happened before, as long as we both care." With this, he rose up, and bit her bottom lip lightly, bringing her face down onto his. Reaching into his pants, she broke the kiss. She watched his face with pleasure as he smiled, his eyes closed.

"Be gentle."

"I will," she said as she ventured deeper, and kissed his Adam’s apple, worked the roundness of it with her tongue.

They turned on the television after awhile; Munky wouldn’t let it get too far…MTV had made him sign a fucking contract. As soon as he turned it on, he quickly flipped the channel. But Sheena had already seen the pair of breasts come into view as the television turned on. She ordered him to turn it back, asked him what he’d been watching while she was gone.

"I’ve been bored," was all he said. Turning to the camera eye, he said, "and MTV sucks." He could swear that the eye mimicked the cameraman, frowning with its large unflinching blues.

The cries escaped from the nude Playboy bunnies on the television and Sheena and Munky started to talk about fake breasts. Munky said something he later regretted. "I remember this one girl I went out with, she had these big fake boobs. They were huge, and scary. I didn’t like ‘em."

"Just how many partners have you had, Jim? It’s…I just wanna know."

He shifted uncomfortable beneath her. Clearing his throat, he said carefully, "I lost count at, like 20." It had been more like losing count at 75, but how could he tell Sheena that? He assured her that he’d been tested; that he was clean; that he’d never had unsafe sex…except for once.

"Was the only time recently?" she asked, her voice fragile in a rare moment. He said, "No, the only unsafe sex I had was when I lost my virginity. I don’t even remember it. I got drunk and high and I…just woke up with her in the morning. That was years ago."

"How old were you?" She had sympathy in her eyes.

There were awful ways to lose one’s virginity. Awful, awful ways.

"Oh, God…about ten years ago. When I was thirteen."

"That must’ve been terrible for the girl!" Sheena said, and he said that, yes, it had been. It had been hard for him, too. But how could he tell Sheena that? It had been his turn to lay down the facts, now Sheena had to tell all. Spill the beans.

"How about you? When did you lose your virginity?" he asked. Immediately, she shook her head. Said she’d rather not say. Munky was instantly confused. He asked her how many partners she’d had.

At this, her eyes became far, and distant. "I’ve had three, in my lifetime, including you. One of them—" her throat tightened "—loved me. The other just—well—he just did it."

"What do you mean, ‘just--?"

"It doesn’t matter anymore." She looked past him now, into his eyes, but even farther back. Tears welled in them. "I have you, don’t I?" As his eyebrows furrowed she rested her head on his chest. She gripped a side of his T-shirt tightly. He changed the channel. They watched TRL for the first time, and he remarked at its stupidity. When she sniffled, however, he sat up. Tears were in her eyes. He pulled her closer, concerned now.

"What’s wrong, baby?" he asked gently.

She only sobbed in response.

"Why are you so sad? I’m here with you… did I say something wrong? If I did I’m sorry—"

"I lost my virginity when I was four," she sobbed, and he stared numbly over her shoulder as she went on. "My dad raped me every night—for a year, while my mom worked the night shift. It was terrible—"

"Sheena—I—"

"And I fucked over the only other man I ever loved. I was shipped across the country, to Jersey, for something awful that I did."

This is it, he thought, as he fought for a calm voice. Tears welled in his eyes—tears Sheena couldn’t see, because she sobbed into his shoulder. His hands shook against her back, as the news sunk in. "Were you shipped away for what happened in high school?"

Her breath stopped. She pulled away from him. "Yes," she said. Looking to him, she asked, "Do you hate me now?"

He frowned in confusion. "Of course not," he said. He moved to her again. "Why should I?" What could you do that would make me hate you? he wondered as he held her close. Nothing in the world…

She bit back a sigh of relief. He didn’t know. "I love you. I love you so much," she said with a glance. She hugged him again. He cooed to her until she was calm enough to grab a Kleenex. As soon as she left, he got up from the couch. After pacing nervously in the kitchen, his mouth dry, for a minute, he sat down hard on a stool. The tears came as he fought them. The cameras watched, silent witnesses, to his emotion. He rested his head between his hands, and leaned over the table. The tears plopped onto the tile. When Sheena came back down, Munky leaped from his stool and wiped his eyes. He paced.

When Sheena placed a hand on his shoulder, he jumped. Seriously, he said, "I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna fucking kill him. I’ll go get a gun and get him and I’ll fucking rape him and blow a cap in his ass to see how he likes it—"

"Shh," Sheena soothed as he collapsed into her arms. In a high, thin voice, he assured her that he loved her. "I didn’t know. I didn’t know about that—" he started to explain. No wonder she was tentative to him in the beginning. When they’d touched, she had felt the pain her father had instilled in her. The abuse. It had taken her time to convince herself that Munky wouldn’t hurt her. It had taken time.

It all made sense; he understood now. Only, like a puzzle, the final piece was missing.

The piece that would complete the picture: high school. Whatever that simple term meant, it held pain.

And he knew the man to give him the answer to all of his questions: his brother, Jonathan Davis.

The next morning Sheena decided she’d stay in his house and start revising her rough draft; besides, Munky only had to go to the studio for a few hours. He walked into the studio with a purpose, clouds behind his eyes. Today, all cameras were on Head as he tuned his large guitar. Head cracked a joke with Fieldy that, any other time, would’ve made Munky laugh until he fell on the floor. Today Munky had no sense of humor, however. He spoke to Jon and Head forcefully.

"Tell me what happened to Sheena in high school." When they exchanged glances, Munky only demanded louder.

After a minute of silence, Head said, "No can do, man."

"Dammit! Jon, I need to know," Munky said, turning to Jon. Instead of answering immediately, he stared into space. He ignored Munky for a second. Flicked his cigarette. Time passed in slow motion as Jon sucked in, exhaled. "If she won’t, I’m not going to."

David entered the room; sat down at his drum set in time to hear Munky threaten to quit the band if they wouldn’t tell him. Fieldy interfered, offering him the story.

"You know, too? What the fuck!?" Munky screamed as he realized him and David were the only ones that didn’t know.

"Shut up!" Head said quickly as Fieldy started to explain. Jon’s face was clouded by his long black dreadlocks, by the emotions he could never escape from. From the two words which never seemed to let him go.

"I thought we were tight, guys. Tell me. I love her. I think it’s my business." When Munky saw no one would speak, he said, "Look! She told me that her dad raped her when she was a kid, okay? If she can share that with me you can tell me what happened—"

"Wait a minute! She was raped by her dad?!" Head asked in confusion, his voice breaking through Munky’s. Head stared at Jon with wide eyes. He was suddenly angry, looking at Jon to confirm Munky’s statement. Jon, however, didn’t answer. He was in a different time, a different place.

"You wanna know what happened?" Jon whispered finally. Munky leaned in to hear him, listening intently. Jon’s lip curled. He tapped a single finger in his thin chest. "I killed it. I killed it."

In exasperation, Munky called them all assholes and stormed out of the room when Jon insisted that explained everything. The room sat, unmoving, as the door slammed. Jon sobbed. Left the room. Head and Fieldy exchanged glances. Head just sat stubbornly. David rushed after Munky. Fieldy, after a minute of indecision, ran through the door after Jon.

"Wait up, man!" David said as Munky burst angrily through the door and into the parking lot. He was moving fast, and David grabbed his arm. Munky stopped when he found that he couldn’t budge from his grip. As he settled down the grip lessened. David walked with Munky silently back into the studio. They found a room, and pulled up two chairs.

"You want anything to drink?" he asked, motioning over to the water fountain to their left. Munky shook his head, no. The Backstreet Boys walked by, laughing, and Munky only scowled at them until they were gone. He pressed his fists against his forehead.

"I just don’t get it. Why the fuck can’t they tell me what happened? Any of them? I mean, Sheena won’t even tell me, and we’re in love."

"Maybe it’s really serious, something none of them have come to grips with yet," David suggested, trying to find an answer when even the question was fuzzy to him. He patted Munky on the back as his eyes filled with tears. "You sure you love her that much?" he asked. Munky instantly answered that yes, he did, offended even at the suggestion of slighted love. He broke down crying.

"I just don’t know how I feel for her…ever since I saw her for the first time she was just such a part of me. I know Sheena’s different, because when we tried to…I just know. Part of me wants to spend the rest of my fucking life with her, and the other is so fucking unsure and scared…"

"That’s how it always is," David said. "When I first met Shannon it was at a club, remember?" Munky vacantly recalled David getting drunk and hooking up with her, and taking her home to their apartment…

"When she called me and told me she was pregnant, I didn’t know what the fuck to do. I was only eighteen, and our band was taking off. I told her I loved her, even though it wasn’t really true. After she had our baby though I fell in love with her so much that I asked her to marry me right in the hospital." David’s eyes were glazed over. "I knew I truly loved her because I realized that someone that could give me something as precious as my son is someone I want to love for ten lifetimes over."

"I want that. To know what it’s like," Munky whispered as tears ran down his face. "I want to spend time with her and give her my heart, waking up with her and knowing she loves me. Yesterday she even talked to me about someday having kids, and I was so happy I—"

"Does it always feel like the first time?" David asked, stopping him in mid-sentence with an uncharacteristic intrusion.

"What does what feel like the first time?"

His black eyebrows lifted. "You know, the first time. When you are with Sheena, does every hug, every kiss feel exactly like the first time?"

Munky cleared his tears away with a sloppy wipe of his hand. "Yeah. That’s exactly what it feels like, now that you say it."

David actually put a hand on his heart, and Munky saw in it that he was terribly in love with his wife, loved her more dearly than Munky had before thought. His words were wrenched with passion; with the terror and confusion that he must’ve felt when he’d answered the phone and heard that Shannon was pregnant, and that she refused to have an abortion or an illegitimate baby. "Because that’s how it felt for me that first time I slept with Shannon, and every other time. Every time I touch her it feels like the first time, every time I hold her hand. I still get all sweaty in my fingers," he admitted, more lightly. Munky thought it was funny, he actually had the audacity to laugh. They both did.

"Can I come in?" a familiar voice asked cautiously. David exchanged looks with Munky, and bade him entrance. Head opened the door slowly, carefully. Stepped inside. Closed it behind him. Eyes downcast, he meandered to Munky. The door creaked again as the cameramen opened the door behind him and snuck in.

"I’m so sorry, man."

"It’s okay."

"No, it’s not," he insisted, and looked at Munky so seriously it scared him. "I was wrong to be so harsh. I just think that Sheena should tell you herself. But I was sorry I made it into this whole big war against you. I realize how much you love her, and that you just want to know if she’s okay. You have a right to be pissed. I was being an asshole, and you’re just looking out for her."

Munky rose, and the two exchanged a brief hug, patting each other on the back. Head turned away from them both as they watched in silent surprise.

Head never apologized. Never.

"Can you put away my shit for me? I’m going home," Head said with a tear behind his words as he closed the door softly.

Laughter rang through the room as the women sat at the table, enjoying their afternoon coffees. They had called Sheena as she had sat, toiling over her rough draft. She had obligingly made the long journey across the road to Head’s house, where his wife Rebekkah was having Renee and her over. The kids were in for their afternoon nap, and the women had the little moment they held close for woman-to-woman chit-chat.
"I still have the video," Rebekkah said. Her blonde hair and shimmering green eyes twinkled as she took a sip of coffee. When Sheena’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, she lowered her eyes. "I have the video still. Remember?"

Sheena’s eyes lit up in recognition. "You really still have that? Brian told me that, too. Man, what were we thinking when we made that? We were nuts."

Rebekkah nodded. "I still have it. It was taped the night I met Brian. Of course I’m gonna keep it. He watches the video sometimes; I think he has a thing for you, Sheena. I must admit I’m somewhat jealous."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Renee asked. They explained to her, and she burst out laughing. "Man are teenagers horny," was all she said when they had finished. Sheena laughed at that, and said that she agreed whole-heartedly.

"Yeah, well I’m happy to be with Jim. He’s amazing," Sheena said, and leaned back into her chair. They talked about him for a little while, Sheena all the time noticing that Renee was unusually quiet, looking everywhere but in Sheena’s direction as they discussed him.

"He told me a lot of things about himself yesterday. Like how he lost his virginity. I guess he was at some party—he was only thirteen mind you—and he woke up with some girl—"

"He told you that?!" Renee asked, her eyes wide. She regretted the words as soon as they slipped from her mouth. She tried to ward off their pressing stares, but couldn’t. "Tell us! Come on, tell us! I know you have something good to say, come on! Who cares? It’ll never leave the room!" were the schoolgirl like chants that permeated the large kitchen. Finally, Renee sighed. Her eyes took on a dreamy, far-off cast as her long black fingertips ran over her cup.

It was Rebekkah’s best china.

"Well, I was that girl. I was the girl he woke up with."

Sheena didn’t say anything for a long time. "No wonder he wouldn’t tell me who it was. It’s kind of weird that you two still know each other."

"Yeah. It’s quite a story…"

"Well, we got plenty of coffee," Rebekkah said, urging her on. Slowly and then more easily, the story flowed from Renee’s lips, her own version one of confusion and then sudden clarity. She portrayed Munky as the caring and concerned young man who wanted nothing else to relive their mistake. She finished with the night at his tree house. Everyone listened intently as she went on. "When I came home the next morning my mom was waiting for me. I was shipped off to a Northern California boarding school. When I met Jon, he had just left SexArt to join this cool new band. I wanted to see them practice. So when I go in there who do I see but—"

"Jimmy," Sheena finished, and no more than a second later Munky walked into the door with Head, chattering aimlessly about something. Sheena blushed and looked down as he walked across the living room to the kitchen table. A minute later Jon—tear-streaked face wiped clean by time and several cold Kleenexes—walked in wielding a large pizza. Munky casually strolled to Sheena—all eyes on him, of course, as the women thought about the story—and rested his head in the nook of her shoulder. He didn’t move; Sheena asked him what was wrong. He only shook his head in response, and lightly kissed the side of her neck.

"Are you sure?" Sheena asked, when she heard him sniffle. He stood up, and wiped a tear before it could fall. A sideways glance to Renee caught her guilty face. He forced a smile and asked her what she looked so sorry for.

"Nothing," she said. Rebekkah burst out laughing. "You got caught," she continued when he looked at her, his head tilted in confusion at them both.

"Don’t get mad at me. But I told them—about us, that time?" Renee asked in a tiny voice. His face blanked as soon as the words had come from her mouth. When Sheena uptilted her face and said that he must’ve been a sweet kid, he laughed. Renee sighed in relief.

"I wasn’t sweet. I was a bad kid," he said to her. "But I was changed after I met Renee, man. I was so sad when she left. I came to her house like a day later and her dad chased me all the way back. He wanted to kick my ass, because his daughter ‘would never ever do something like that with a frigging pussy wipe’…at first he thought that I was a girl, from my long hair—"

"That’s awful!" Sheena cried, even as she laughed at his bittersweet story. Munky just shrugged. "Didn’t bother me," he said as he brought himself a slice of pizza for him, Renee, and Sheena. "When my mother heard that he’d barged into the apartment after me she called the police. He was arrested.

"Here you go, baby," he said, flirting lightly with Renee as he placed her plate before her.

"You haven’t changed."

Knowing that Sheena watched, he looked Renee up and down and said, "You haven’t either." The whole room turned. Renee lightly slapped Munky in the butt with her paper towel as he walked away with a plate for him and Sheena.

"I must say I’m jealous," Sheena smirked as Munky squeezed next to her on the seat. There wasn’t enough room or chairs for them both, so at his insistence she sat on his lap. Head kissed his wife, and handed her a piece of pizza. They mimicked Sheena and Munky, Rebekkah climbing onto his lap.

No one complained about the lack of chairs.

"Where’s Jon? He was working on that pizza a minute ago."

"I don’t know," Renee replied.

"I’ll find him," Sheena said. Brian got out from under Rebekkah and pursued her into the back. As they left, Rebekkah took a tiny bite of her pizza. She said, dreamily, "It’s weird."

"What’s weird?" Munky asked.

"It’s weird that all of them are finally here. All of us."

"What do you mean?" Renee asked.

Rebekkah looked at her with somewhat steely eyes, and she fell silent. Munky turned to her when Rebekkah asked him in a low voice if he knew. When he inquired about what, they fell silent. He was filled with the same frustration he’d felt since this morning, but he didn’t let it overpower him. Instead, he said that he had to go to the bathroom and sneaked down the hall, only to hear sobs and fervent tears flowing from a closed bedroom door.

"What are you talking about?" the only female voice asked. To Munky’s surprise Head responded, his tears choking his words.

"You never told me you were raped."

Silence.

"Sheena, I’m so sorry for everything—" Jon sobbed. Sheena told him in desperation that nothing was their fault. That, goddammit, it was her fault!

"How is it your fault?! It broke! Steve, remember him?! He kicked my ass and told me that it broke."

What broke?

"We loved you, the both of us did. When you left, it was like, what the fuck? Jon called me and told me what happened, and that he had told you to go ahead with it—"

Go ahead with what, dammit? What could she have possibly done that still haunts her? Munky resisted the strong urge to open the door.

"It had nothing to do with you. Absolutely nothing! You two don’t even know what I went through, okay? You have no fucking idea! You think you know everything, but you don’t! Listen to me when I tell you it’s not your fault!!"

Silence. Something thunked to the floor, something knocked over. Head’s sobs rung in Munky’s head. There was a creaking sound of mattress springs as one of them sat. What Sheena said next haunted Munky for the rest of the night—for the rest of his life.

"It wasn’t you, Jon. It wasn’t you."

"Who was it, then? Who could it have possibly been—"

Cold and steely, she only said, "Think about it."

Munky, mind swimming, ran down the hall and away as Jon’s frantic "No." Sob. "No, Sheena, no! It’s not true! I did it! It wasn’t—"

He had to get away, had to go somewhere else. Renee caught him in her arms as he tried to leave. He opened the door, sagged. Fell into her arms. She held him as she walked him to the couch, his eyes on the plentiful mound that was her breast. He let out all his frustrations as everyone watched. He was so confused, he said. If Sheena loved him so much, why couldn’t she tell him? If this was hurting her, he should know, so that he could help her. Because that’s all he wanted to do was to help her. He was sick of pretending that everything was okay. Sick of pretending that he could just accept that she was keeping a secret and that that was okay. She could talk about it with anyone but him…

He stormed out of the house as soon as he felt Head’s hand on his shoulder.

*****************************************************************************

Sheena left the shower, and entered Munky’s room without a whim, her skin shining in the dark. The television was on, and he watched one of Seinfeld’s latest antics with absolutely no interest whatsoever. When Sheena walked through the door he followed her lovely body with his eyes. He told himself that he wasn’t turned on, that he was angry; but his body told him that everything was fine. That he could fuck her and not feel bad about it—

She settled into bed with him, and snuggled her nakedness against his. He tensed at first, but then relaxed as she rubbed his chest. She slipped her fingers underneath the fringe of his boxers.

His sigh stopped her.

"What’s wrong?" she asked, her face honestly concerned. As if what had happened today had never happened.

In frustration, he left the room. In the living room, he pulled out a beer and finished it within a minute. He fought the urge to return back to his room. What was wrong with him? There was a naked woman in his room, ready for him, and he was down here with a fucking beer? To that there was no logic. But his ass stayed put on the cold wood. A minute later she descended the stairs, wearing only a pair of underwear. She was cold; her nipples stood erect in the mild darkness. He saw them. Took another swig. He wanted to, but couldn’t turn away. She hugged herself as she spoke.

"I’m sorry, Jim. I really am."

"I can’t see why you can’t tell me."

She looked away, and tears clouded her eyes. Her eyes scanned the walls of his house as she continued. "I don’t wanna lose this—what we have. That’s why I’m not going to tell you." She sobbed, and he resisted the urge to jump to his feet and hold her, tell her it was okay. "I know that if I told you, you’d hate me. You’d think I was a monster, and you’d never want to see me again."

He shook his head. His dreadlocks flew in odd directions as he swung his beer in wide arc. He settled down again, knowing he was almost drunk. He said, head rested on his wrist, "I could never hate you. No matter what. Not even if you cheated on me—"

"—I didn’t cheat on you—"

"That’s not the point. The point is that—" When he paused, she turned away, and began to walk up the stairs. Her bare back reflected the moonlight that had seeped through the large windows of his house.

"What is the point?" she asked as she ascended to the balcony. He looked up to her. "The point is that I love you."

"I’ll be in here if you want to come," she said, and waited for him to move. When he only stared back up at her vacantly, she slammed the door and collapsed onto his bed. He knew she was crying; her sobs reached the bottom of the stairs, into the alcohol and into his heart.

He drank until the world began to tilt, then forced himself to stop as he realized he was to blame. He stumbled up the stairs, opened the door. Sheena’s face was streaked with tears, and she gripped the blankets tightly in her fists. He moved the sheets over and snuggled beside her. Planting feather light kisses up her shoulder, he apologized. She wrapped her arms around him.

Even Munky, however, couldn’t protect Sheena from the nightmares that plagued her…

Sheena held a can opener in her hands as she stands, her long brown hair cascading down the sides of her face. The can of applesauce before her won’t open, no matter how hard she tries. Suddenly, a large hand places itself over her shoulder. She looks up as a black dreadlock caresses her face like a dead finger. Jon’s face, smiling and warm, leans over her, the sweet smell of freshly smoked cigarettes lingering over him. His slightly adjacent front teeth stick out of his grin comically as he bends over to kiss her. The primitive can opener drops onto the counter as his hands rise to squeeze her breasts, making her womb mumble the same words that form on her lips…

"AAAH!" Sheena screamed as she opened her eyes. Only to find a large, tan hand clamped softly over one breast.

This isn’t real, she repeated over and over as the shock of the dream settled in. This isn’t happening and I’m not gonna lose it it’s okay I’m so so sosososososo STRONG…

But the pain, the humiliation, the horror! Heart pumping frantically, she dashed towards the bathroom. She vomited in disgust, as if the acid bubbling against her tongue would relieve her of the awful memories she’d have forever. So much angst, so much anger, so much regret. Her shock dissolved as Munky slowly opened the door. He saw a helpless, frightened mess, and his heart went out to her. He reached to touch her, but she recoiled from it viciously. Burst into a new set of bitter tears.

"Jimmy," she said weakly, as he looked at her, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He left quickly and returned with a glass of water. She lay, shivering, on the floor. She accepted the water after a minute. Drank it slowly as he watched.

"Do you want to take a shower? You might feel better," he offered. He was at a loss when she nodded. With his help, she made it into the warm shower. He stood for a second, unsure of what to do.

Then he removed his boxers and climbed in after her. He found her immobile, huddled into a corner of the shower and crying still. He reached for the soap, and gently brought it to her back. She tensed at his touch but then let him do it, her tears falling silently down her face. Eventually he hugged her, leaning over her in a gesture of how much he loved her.

She knew it was only a hug. A hug from behind. Yet, she pulled away.

The falling water cascaded down their naked bodies for several uncomfortable seconds as she avoided his gaze.

"Let me help you," he offered, reaching for her tentatively. His voice was warm, deep, and gentle, a voice that had done nothing but love her and comfort her. Somewhere within her something stirred. She didn’t want to lose him, lose their love. She wasn’t sure that he’d still love her if he knew.

Well, what’s more important? Her sanity or his love?

Eventually, Sheena figured Munky would discover that she was a monster, whether she told him today or not. The day would come when he would know her so well that he would begin to hate her, begin to realize what a fucked-up bitch she really was. She gathered all her strength into one little ball and used it to settle herself in his arms. His wet black dreadlocks sagged as the water moistened the chemicals that held his bunches of hair together. She enjoyed for what she was convinced was for the last time his touch as he hugged her, the hold that was so firm and yet so gentle. He reached to the shower handle and silenced the pouring water. He had a towel for her, as well as one for himself, and together they returned calmly to his bedroom. He wanted to find out what had happened to her, what could possibly be more painful than being a systematic victim of incest.

"Shh, tell me. I promise I’ll still love you," he insisted carefully as she dried her eyes on his bare shoulder. They were large and solemn when they met his gaze, a thin sheet of water already leaking from them down to her cheeks.

"You promise?"

Silence. "Yes."

Her eyes took on the far-off cast that Jon’s had, the same Head’s had taken on as he’d apologized to Munky. This is what it all came down to. Munky convinced himself that, whatever it was, he’d be able to handle it. Looking at her face as she began to speak, however, he was suddenly not so sure.

"Well, it all started when…"