Midnight Whispers (Cutler 4)

Before I could say another word, he lifted my blanket and slipped himself under it, moving in beside me. I shifted away quickly, surprised, shocked and very frightened.

"You're so much older than your age," he whispered. "I know you are. You're certainly older than your mother was when she was your age. You've read more; you've done more; you know more. You're not afraid of me, are you?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "I am. Please, Uncle Philip. Go away."

"But I can't. Betty Ann . . . Betty Ann's like a stick of ice beside me. I don't even like it when my leg grazes against her bony knee. But you, oh Christie, you're just as beautiful as Dawn was, even more so. Whenever I look at you, I see her the way she once was to me.

"You can be that way to me," he added, reaching to put, his hand on my waist, "just tonight, at least tonight, can't you?"

"No, Uncle Philip. Stop," I said, pushing on his wrist.

"But you've been this way with boys. I know you have. Where else would you go at night if not to meet some boyfriend and have a rendezvous? Where do you meet . . . in the back of a car? Dawn and I were once in a car."

"No. Stop it," I said, covering nay ears with my hands. "I don't want to hear such things."

"Oh, but why not? We didn't do anything ugly. I'll show you what we did," he said, moving his hand up the side of my body to my breast. I started to push myself away and off the bed, but he seized my wrist with his other hand and pulled me toward him.

"Christie, oh Christie, my Christie," he moaned and smothered my face with wet kisses. I grimaced and struggled. He was stronger and threw his leg over mine to hold me in place. In moments, he had worked his hand into my pajama top and found my breast. When his skin touched me, I started to shout and he clamped his other hand over my mouth.

"Don't," he warned. "Don't wake the others. None of them will understand."

I moaned and shook my head. He took his hand away, but before I could utter a sound, he brought his mouth to mine and pressed his lips so hard against my lips, he lifted them away from my teeth. I felt the tip of his tongue touch mine and I began to gag.

I choked and coughed when he lifted his mouth away, but while I struggled to catch my breath, his hands were pulling down on my pajama pants. The buttons began popping off. When my pajamas were down as far as my knees, he turned so he could put his body over mine and I felt it—I felt his hardness poked between my locked thighs. The realization of what it was and what was happening threw me into a frenzy. I was able to free my right hand and with my fist I pummeled his head, but it was like a fly trying to tip over an elephant. He didn't appear to feel anything. He groaned and pushed.

"Christie, Christie . . . Dawn . . . Christie," he said, mixing my name and my mother's as if he could literally bring her back to him through me.

"UNCLE PHILIP, STOP! STOP!"

He was so strong and heavy, I couldn't do much to resist. Slowly, my legs began to give and make room for his to push against them even harder.

"You don't have to sneak off to learn about these things," he muttered. "I can help you as I promised. We need each other. We should depend on each other, now more than ever. I have no one but you, Christie. No one . . ."

"Uncle Philip," I gasped. His mouth covered mine again. I tried to scream, but the scream was trapped inside me. I felt the tip of his hardness prodding, pressing forward while I was pinned down beneath him.

And then the shock of it, the realization that he was moving inside me. I tried to deny it, to scream NO! But the reality came in an avalanche, burying any denials. He groaned and pressed onward, chanting my mother's name and mine as if that was what gave him the strength. His hot wetness spurted inside me. I lay there limply waiting for it to end and when it did, he slid off me like ice. I didn't move, afraid that if I uttered a sound or nudged him in any way, he would return a second time. His heavy breathing slowed.

"Christie," he said, touching me. I pulled back, gasping. "It's all right," he said. "It's all right. We've done nothing wrong; we've only helped each other, comforted each other. Great sorrow demanded it.

"You're old enough to understand. It's good; it's okay. Everything will be fine," he said. "Are you okay?"

I didn't move.

"Are you?" he asked again, this time turning toward me.

"Yes," I said quickly.

"Good, good. I've got to go back before Betty Ann wakes up and wonders where I've gone. Sleep, my little princess, sleep. I will always be here for you, forever and ever, just like I was for her."

I watched, holding my breath as he sat up and then left my bed. He moved very quietly through the darkness of my room, slipping out and disappearing like a nightmare, gone, but still lingering about me.

For a few moments I lay there trying to deny the reality of what had happened. Then I began to sob, my sobbing growing so hard that it shook my whole body and the bed. The ache in my chest felt

hard enough to split me in two. I sat up, terrified, and caught my breath. For some reason, all I could think of was Jefferson. Jefferson . . . Jefferson . . .

I rose quickly. My pajama pants fell to my knees. I kicked them off and went into the bathroom to strip off my pajama top and then I turned on the shower, making it as hot as I could take. It turned my skin red, but I didn't care. I scrubbed and scrubbed, my tears mixing with the water that streaked down my face. Afterward, I dried myself vigorously. Still feeling polluted, I hurried out to my bedroom and dug my smallest suitcase out of the closet. With no organized thought, I scurried about packing away underwear, socks, skirts and blouses. Then I dressed as quickly as I could. I dug out all the money I kept in the drawer of my night table and put it in with the money I had in my pocketbook. I was always saving for something or other and had managed to accumulate a few hundred dollars.

I opened the door and peered out into the dimly lit corridor. Tiptoeing across, I opened the door to Jefferson and Richard's room and slipped in. I knelt beside Jefferson's bed and shook him gently until his eyes opened.