THE PREDATOR.
Chapter 2. SECOND SIGHTING
As I got home, hot, flustered, confused, my mother was already cooking breakfast. "Have a nice run dear? I've got some of that black pudding you used to like, fried up with a bit of bacon, so have a quick shower." My stomach heaved. I told her sorry, but I felt a bit queasy - too much beer last night - and thought I'd go back to bed after my shower.
I stripped off, got under the shower, turned it up to very hot and scrubbed myself down again and again, letting the scalding jet flood over my head and into my mouth, trying to rid myself of that sickly, cloying taste. I finished with ice cold water, desperate to cleanse myself of the horror to which I had been forced to submit. Afterwards I cleaned my teeth again and again and found some TCP to gargle with, but even that seemed not to strip the man-taste from my throat. Then I threw myself into bed and slept deeply.
I awoke with a start and saw it was 11.30. I was drenched in sweat and was concious of having had strange, disturbing dreams.
I had another shower, dressed and went hunting for food, feeling ravenous. "Glad to see you are feeling better, dear" Mum cooed. But I wasn't feeling better. Hungry, yes. Better, no. Still a rage burned in me that I could have been sexually abused so savagely and with such casual contempt. The big bastard would pay, of that I was determined! I'd lay a formal complaint. So what that it was only my word against his? So what that the Police would close ranks against me to protect their own? So what that he'd never be charged? Still it would give him some grief. There'd be an enquiry and reports in the local press. I'd make the bastard squirm at the very least!
I borrowed Dad's car and drove into town. I'd noticed the Police Station by the traffic lights while waiting there, so I knew where to go. Quite an imposing Victorian building with steps up to the front door. Doubts assailed me and I hesitated. In my own eyes I was a man but I knew they'd see me as just a kid with some unbelievable yarn. Nevertheless he couldn't be allowed to get away scott free. I took a deep breath and with my heart banging about in my chest like crazy, I mounted the steps.
Inside it was gloomy after the bright sunshine outside. As my eyes adjusted I saw a high counter with a policeman on duty behind it, on the phone. He acknowledged me and motioned for me to hang on. As I did so I focussed my gaze deeper into the room. HE WAS THERE! Stupidly it had never crossed my mind that he might be in the Station, being firmly fixed in my mind in a car. He was leaning over a young WPC who was typing up a report at a desk. He looked up and saw me. There was no shock of recognition, no look of alarm or guilt. Just a steady, cool gaze. I felt the blood rush to my face and I was the one to look away quickly! I spun on my heel and fled.
The officer behind the counter put his hand over the receiver and called "Be right with you Sir." but it was too late and I stumbled down the steps into the sun-glare. Fool! Fool! Fool! I berated myself. I had blown it. There was no way I could go back in there now. I was so ANGRY. I had right on my side. I was the injured party. But he only had to look up at me and I fled like a criminal! No, not even like a criminal - more like a beaten puppy. I felt so ASHAMED and had to blink back hot tears of frustration and helplesness.
I could not face going home yet so went and sat in the park by the river. The big question was, what would I do tomorrow morning? Go running as usual, or not? Go up to the Marbles as usual, or not? Unlikely he'd risk a second encounter having seen my attempt at lodging a complaint. Too risky for him, surely, despite my hectic flight when he'd merely looked at me! (Again, a hot flush of shame at the memory!) But if he did, what then? Well I certainly wouldn't get in the car, that's for sure! But what if he was up there before me, waiting? Hardly likely that he'd ATTACK me! No, I decided, there was absolutely no reason to change my pattern, I would run as usual, at dawn as usual, and to the Devil's Marbles as usual. I would not let the brutal pervert upset my life. It had happened and I'd just have to live with the dreadful memory that once a man had shot his spunk in my mouth, and come to terms with it somehow. After all, it was never going to happen again, of that I was certain. Unlikely I'd ever see him again and certainly not up at The Marbles. He wouldn't risk that. He wouldn't dare!
Would he?...