The Indians of Bending Creek

It is kind of beginning to feel like home.

I was walking through the hallways; my black-shone shoes pressing deeply into the beige felt surface. Each step carried me further from my room, and I wove through the dimly-lit passageways like a ghost. I knew the rumours - hell, I was the rumours, but they didn't stop me. Teachers and faculty were cracking down harder on curfew, but I could easily make it back to my room by 9 o'clock. It was barely past 8. The electric lamps threw a strangely warm light across the grey-beige wallpaper and crème carpeting. My breathing was light and easy, my navy blazer left draped across the chair by my dorm room desk. I wore my white dress shirt rolled to the elbows, my black tie loose around my neck, my pants creased from the days work.

Behind some of the doorways, I could hear noises. Quiet music playing - of impressively eclectic genres - and the voices of students raised in speech. Through one door, I thought I could hear moaning; but I didn't stay long enough to check it out. I definitely didn't memorize the room number.

208.

I was just around to turn back and return to my room when I caught the drifting sound of voices from down the hallway. Strangely, I recognized them. Walking a few paces to where the hallway made a sharp turn, I leaned myself against the wall and listened. The first voice was definitely Jack's; of that I was certain. The other voice, though - high but strong, her words slightly lilted in the evening silence, I placed a moment later.

Annabelle-Lynne.

I felt my brow scrunch slightly, the familiar feeling of my eyebrows growing heavier and sinking into the spaces above my eyes. Running my teeth along my lower lip, I hesitated, and then stayed where I was. I didn't exactly want to eavesdrop, but I had to admit - I was curious as hell. Jack had warned me to stay far away from Anne, and I felt myself desperately needing to know why. What was it that was do important about this girl, that she could make the impermeable, roguish Jackson Howrath let anger slip through his mask of intense calmness. That had definitely been what it was; anger - raw and sharp, staining his face with a fury that bordered on pain.

"-didn't have to tell him we fucked!" the voice drifted to me, and my breathing stilled. They were talking about me, I realized. "God damnit, Anna - you all but fucked me, again!"

"He's going to figure it out, you know." her voice was serene and stable, the way it always was. She didn't sound phased by the larger figure in any way. Against the carpet, I thought I might have seen a shadow flicker. "You'll have to tell him eventually."

"I will when I decide to! I will not let you take this from me, Anna! Not again! His friendship is worth more to me than our bullshit."

"Just because-" Annabelle began, but Jackson's voice cut her off angrily.

"You know, Anna." he said, his voice a growl so low I could barely make it out above the non-existent buzzing of the fluorescent lamps. "You've always been a bitch. You and your goddess complex. I never loved you. I fucked you - and then you fucked me. We're even."

"We're over." Annabelle said, the calmness in her voice betraying her rage. "Good night Jackson."

That was more than I could handle. Peeling myself off of the wall I leaned against, I walked quickly back down the hallway. I barely felt my feet striking the soft carpet below, and before I knew what I was doing I was back at our room.

You already knew. The voice in my head whispered, whipping me with its derisive sneer. What does this change? You love her, he's sleeping with her. Grow a pair, Scarentho!

Standing in front of my door, I squeezed my eyes shut and leaned my forehead against the white-painted wood. One of my hands was wrapped tightly against the brass doorknob, the other pressed flat, fingers splayed, against the wood. There was a pounding in my head I hadn't felt for years; not since the woman who said she would never leave had left. Not since my mother had died. I kept my eyes pressed tightly together; not wanting to open them because opening them would make the world real again, and I wasn't ready for that to happen. I liked my darkness. I stayed in my darkness.

You're afraid you're going to start crying. that voice laughed, like steel against stone. You are such a bitch, Scarentho. A man doesn't cry over girls.

"Shut up." I hissed, wrenching the door open and pulling myself into the dark space beyond. Flinging the door closed with a bone-rattling slam, I dropped onto my bed. Still I didn't allow myself to cry. Blinking multiple times to keep the hot, salty tears from the corners of my eyes, I quickly wiped them with the corner of my blanket.

I heard the sound of the door handle turning, and then the creak of wood against wood. A thin beam of light cut through the darkness, and Jackson crept in. He was obviously being quiet so as not to wake me. When he finally raised his chin and met my eyes, I saw his widen in surprise.

"J-Jay." he stuttered, pressing his pale lips tightly together and coughing low in his throat. "Uhm, sorry. I thought you were asleep."

"Did seduction destroy you?" I ask, my voice low enough that it feels like smoke pouring from between my lips.

He pauses for a brief second, as if he doesn't understand. He stands very still, considering. Then those black eyes widen, and the moonlight through the window turns them to their native brown. His mouth opens slightly, and I can see the flash of fear that passes across the surface of his carved marble face.

"Jay, what did you..."

"Nothing!" I spit, so angry I can barely speak. It's not his fault, I know - but I can't help but feel like it is; just a little bit. "I heard you and Annabelle talking in the hallway. It was an accident."

Not exactly the truth, but not exactly a lie, either. The fine knifes edge of interpretation.

"You know, Jack ... I thought I could trust you." the tears threaten to fall at that, burning behind my eyes. "I thought I could trust Anne, too, after the pranks. But fuck it. Fuck both of you - well, actually, I guess you both already have been. That girl is bad news," I mimicked the words in a high-pitched falsetto of his own voice, "yeah, right. You know what? Fuck you, Jack."

"I'm gay." he says it quietly, in the almost deafening wake of my outburst. His voice makes it sound like an admittance of weakness, but his body says anything but. His chin is raised in the moonlight, his jaw set and hard. Those black eyes sparkle; calm, dark, and ruthless. His hands are tucked into his pant pockets, and he gently chews at the edge of one lip. His eyes blink once right after he says the words, right before they crash into my like the rollers of an ocean storm.

"You're..." I mumbled, unable to get the rest out. "But..." I fumbled for words, feeling like I was grasping at water with open hands. "In the hallway, you said ... and when she was in here, she ..."

"Yeah." he said quietly, nodding once. I was amazed at how relaxed he looked. "Yeah, it's true, Jay - we had sex. Inked, booked, catalogued - sure, she took my virginity."

"But..." I began, my face asking the question my voice faltered and refused to say.

But you're gay.

"Yeah." he nodded. Looking, for the first time, slightly ashamed. "I'm gay, Jay. I just know how people are about it, and, you know ... I didn't want you to think I was, you know, coming onto you."

"Literally or metaphorically?" I asked, failing to trap the sarcastic joke behind my lips before I burst out into the open.

Jack stared at me for a moment, and then his lips cracked in a grin.

"We're cool?" he asked, and I nodded immediately, breathing out a long breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"Yeah." I nodded back, "We're cool. So ... what happened between you and Anne?" I asked, and then immediately regretted it through the darkening of Jack's face. He swallowed once, and I saw his prominent Adams-apple dip. The moonlight played against his light-skinned features, making it looked as though he had been sculpted out of moonlight and porcelain. He really was beautiful, I thought for a brief moment. His pink tongue slowly parted his lips, wetting them.

"Well, sex." he said nondescriptively, his words way too casual for the way his face had just looked. "You know - the usual, I guess."

I looked him in the eyes for a long moment, and something passed between us, then. He blinked again, and then he sighed deeply.

"Okay, Jay." he swallowed the knot I could feel in his throat, as if it sat in my own, as well. Maybe it did. "You want the truth - unabridged, simple, technical, and completely in disregard for what Anna would tell you?"

"Yeah." I whispered.

Surprisingly, I did.

"Rape." he said the word like a shrug.

At that moment, there was a sound from outside the door. It was something between a sob and a gasp, just on the edge of hearing. We both whirled around, and I stood bolt upright from where I sat against the thick white comforter on my mattress. It was amazing. Before, it had taken me several seconds to recognize that voice - now, it took less than a noise. Before, the sweet sound had been music to my ears - now, I almost cringed. He couldn't be serious...

But looking into Jackson's impossibly dark eyes, I knew he was.

Stepping toward the door, he grabbed the handle and turned in one swift motion. The door swept open, blowing a slight breeze across the room. It gently ruffled my hair, and make goosebumps prickle across my skin. Or maybe those were at the sight of the young woman in the hallway. Her one hand raised to her mouth, the other held protectively across her stomach. Her green eyes, like a mixture of grass and sunlight - the colour of a summer day, shiny and full of tears. Her blonde hair, that fell in ringlets past her shoulder. One moment, she stood so still I thought she might be a cardboard cut-out, like the one she had created for us. Then she turned, and the sound of running feet echoed down the hallway, followed by the crash of a door.

Jackson turned back to me slowly and blinked once more.

"The truth hurts." he whispered softly.