Pushing My Limits

Over the next week, Dad had said nothing of my strange behavior. I was a silent mess for the most part, not doing much either. The three shows had come, two had passed, and now we were on our way towards Denver.

I shuddered as the rain hit hard against the window near my bunk, but I knew what I had to do. Life wasn't fair, and sometimes we need to do things we're not ready to do.

But I might not ever get a second chance.

"Kat?" Jimmy climbed into the bunk with me and I sighed, keeping my eyes fixed on the drops sliding down the window pane, "You've been worrying me lately," He said softly.

"I apologize," I replied, my voice hoarse and monotone.

"I wish you would talk to me; tell me what's going on in that head of yours," He put a hand on the back of my head, but the touch had caused me to shiver, "You used to like that," He added quietly, placing his hand back down.

"We grow out of things," I simply stated and he rested his chin on my shoulder.

"Life is short, Kat," He paused, "And sometimes we just need to realize what's important in life."

"Yeah," I nodded.

"When you realize the lesson I learned a while ago, I hope you come to me to talk about it," With that, he leaned over and kissed my cheek before climbing out of the bunk and heading for the front of the bus.

I sat in the same spot for hours, occasionally crying and occasionally dozing off. After a few hours, Dad had come in to tell me that they were heading to sound check.

After watching them jog past the rain and into the venue, I got up and grabbed my long coat. I placed my hood over my head and left the bus. Slipping past security, I headed for the on placed I vowed to never to return to.

Pulling a flashlight out of my coat pocket, I aimed the beam toward the ground to avoid puddles of mud. I hopped over water pools as rain hit my back, passing through the trees above me.

I had retraced the steps that were so clear in my mind and had come to the spot where the fire once had been, and where the coolers had lined the outside of the clearing with ice and booze.

I had passed that, and forced myself to take steps further into the woods.

"C'mon, Ell. You got Elizabeth and me. You're going to fuck with her too?" Danielle asked from the other side and he turned to her.

"Stay out of this, Dan," He yelled and she cowered away.

He took a step towards me, taking his long finger and running it from my eyebrow to my chin. He traced my lips before taking the rope off of me, still keeping me in the zip-ties, and bringing me up to his level. I shut my eyes to avoid eye contact, "Look at me," He demanded and my eyes opened, "You should at least try to enjoy it," He smirked before throwing me down on the ground.

I started to kick and thrash all around. Without the use of my hands, it was hard to get myself back to my feet. This was an advantage to him, and soon he was straddling me.

In the blink of an eye, my shirt and pants were off, leaving me to shiver in my undergarments. He slid his fingers underneath the straps of my bra, unclasping it at the back. I shivered as it was tossed aside and he was working his way to my panties, "Please don't," I whispered and he smirked.

"You know, Chris isn't here now," He laughed and slid them down my legs.

His pants were off and soon I was screaming at the searing pain below my waist. It felt like it would never end, and suddenly, I wished I had died earlier. I wish I had never been born and I wish it would just all end.

I looked to my left as sweat gathered on my body, and could faintly see the dead cold hand peeking out between leaves and dirt. I felt tears fill my eyes and I was sobbing, screaming and thrashing about. I didn't want to be near her grave. I didn't want to be near here.

"It's been a while since I've had a virgin underneath me," He smirked.

As soon as it started, it was all over. The grinding stopped, but the pain remained within me. I was too sore to move, "Dan, get her cleaned up. We have to get back before Chris notices. It's been four hours," He ordered.

Danielle walked over and quickly, and roughly, dressed me before standing me up. I felt the blood start to seep onto my underwear, but I didn't care anymore. She put an arm under me and helped me follow Elliot out of the woods. My mind blank and my heart torn.

I took in my surroundings. Instead of the lush green forest that had been here in Summer, it was barren and wet now. The trees barely held any leaves, and the clearing was now a giant puddle of mud.

I stood there, staring at the very spot I had come to visit. For months I had been miles away, and now I only stood a few feet from it. I had tried so hard to stay clear of this place, only to bring myself back. There was still a patch there, and with the passed Winter, I'm surprised no one had found her yet.

This isn't fair.

I took a step forward, faintly hearing her screams and cries as I lay in the corner. I could have tried to stop them, but I didn't. I lay there, pathetically as I watched someone's young life get ripped away from them.

Another step, and I could almost feel her presence. I felt a soft chill down my back, or it could have been drops of rain sneaking in through the gap between my hood and jacket. Either way, it sent chills down my spine, and I knew there was no turning back.

I finally reached the very spot, towering over the grave of Elizabeth Greenway. Her body lay beneath me, breathless with not a spot of flesh left. Warmth had left her body long ago, and all that remained were bare bones crushed from dirt. She was helpless- lifeless. When she was born, she thought she would live till she was eighty. She didn't make it to twenty.

I dropped to my knees, palms landing on the mud soaked grave. My head dropped and tears filled my eyes. My hair was getting drenched with rain water, but I didn't care. I couldn't care if I wanted to. This was all that was left of me. I was just as dead as Elizabeth.

But, if I was just as dead, why did she have to be the one six feet under? Why wasn't it me? Did God not love her enough? I didn't even believe in God. Was it him that had did this? Or was it Father Time, trapped in the abyss of darkness and mind. I could not comprehend how this had come to be, or how I had come here. How could I have seen this coming?

I have to fix this. I have to do something, "You killed her," I whispered and Elliot smirked. Danielle had squeezed my arm to warn me of his temper, but i was still too buzzed to take notice.

"Not the first time it's happened, Babe," He kicked a rock out of the way and tears filled my eyes.

"You're a murderer!" I screamed and Danielle clamped a hand over my mouth. Elliot spun around, fury in his eyes.

"And what are you going to do about it, Bitch? Go ahead and go to the police! But they'll never catch me," He grinned wickedly, "And when word gets back to me that you've spoken a word about what's happened tonight," He laughed, "I'll come for you, Kathrine."

I kept walking, the party almost in sight. It had been hours, and Chris hadn't wondered where I was. Where could he possible be? Was he in on this? Was it a sick game where they take turns, who keeps look out and who gets the prize?

Before leaving the woods to enter the clearing, Danielle picked the leaves and sticks out of my hair, brushing the dirt off my shirt before ushering me back into the glow of the fire. When I looked back, Elliot was gone, disappearing towards the buses. Danielle began to walk away slowly, the opposite direction of him. She walked silently, with a slight limp, still sore from what had happened an hour earlier.

"Kathrine?" I heard Chris' voice behind me as he emerged from the parking lot, "Kat, where the hell have you been? I've been looking on every bus for you," He put a hand on my shoulder, and I winced, "Kat?"

"Take me back," I muttered.

"Kat, what happened?" He asked, noticing the tears that had fallen from my eyes.

"Take me back," I repeated. He turned to someone, muttered something in their ear, before wrapping me in his jacket and escorting me across the passed out teens, and into the vast parking lot of the venue.

I pulled my knees to my chest, tears soaking the knees of my jeans, "Why?" I asked. Elizabeth couldn't hear me, but who was I to think differently.

"Why!" I screamed, causing the trees to shake, along with my broken body. I felt weak, pathetic, and worthless.

"I shouldn't have left you," Chris muttered to himself as we walked out of the elevator. I didn't speak a word, "Did Elliot have something to do with this?" He demanded, but I remained silent, "Dammit, Kathrine, answer me!" He took me by the shoulders.

I turned around and walked into the room I shared with Dad. They were all still out, celebrating the last show before heading back to Orange County. I kicked off my shoes, covered in dirt, and sat down on the floor. My eyes were blank as I stared at the black television in front of me, nothing to display on it.

"What the fuck is going on?" He asked, almost pulling his hair out with his fists. He shut the door and turned around, leaning his head on the wall, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," He cursed, and I lay there. Nothing but emptiness washing over me as my head fell into the carpet.

And even if I had said something, what difference would it make? Would there be enough evidence to send Elliot to prison? Me coming out to speak would only hurt people more. Elizabeth's parents would no longer have anything to live for. Their hope would be shattered, and every thing lost. Chris would find out, and have to face his murderer of a brother. It would crush Dad, not to mention Mom- starting a whole new argument between them.

Was this what I had come to? Was this the end of my life? And even if it wasn't, would this be the rest of my life? What if I'm thirty years old, and I'm still haunted by the hazel eyes of Elizabeth? What if I'm forty, and I face Elliot again? Would it be like this forever? Of course, one does not forget death so easily.

I tried to open my eyes, but they felt so heavy. Blurred vision had caused me only to recognize the lights in my hotel room, and Chris' light brown hair. He was beside me, hands on my shoulders as he shook me, "Fuck!" He screamed, shaking me like a rag doll.

I didn't care. He thought I was dead. I was more than dead. I was finished. I had witnessed rape and torture, then lived it. Nothing could top this. My life was over.

"Answer me!" He yelled again, almost in tears.

"I want to shower," I muttered.

"Huh?" He set me down.

"I want you to leave so I can shower then go to bed."

He had helped me up and set my pajamas and a fresh towel in the bathroom for me. He instructed me to call him if I needed anything at all. After I shut the door behind him, I entered the dimly lit bathroom.

I locked the door behind me and turned the shower on to as hot as it would go. I let the steam feed my worries as I stripped down to the remains of my bra and underwear. Bruises scattered my torso. Deep scratches, with dried blood around the edges, were found on my hips. A few scratches were on my legs, due to running between jagged sticks and twigs. Barely anything had happened to my arms, except for the red marks of where the zip-ties had once been.

I stripped the rest of my undergarments before stepping into the shower, hissing at the scorching heat of the water. My skin turned red underneath it, but that was alright with me. I grabbed the soap, courtesy of the hotel, and started to scrub my skin. My arms and stomach were raw with roughness as I scrubbed, but no matter how hard I tried, I could still feel the grime of the dirt and Elliot.

And I realized, I would feel like this for a long time to come.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to the mound of dirt before getting up off my knees and heading back out of the clearing.

The rain had stopped, and I had made it to the bus safely. The guys still at sound check. I wouldn't see them until later tonight, after the show. This was good, because I needed to sleep. I needed to clear my thoughts of bad memories.

I put my soaked clothes in a pile by the bathroom door before changing into pajamas. I climbed into my bunk and cuddled against my pillow, the music of rain drops singing me to sleep.