Kissing a Toad. {fiction}
{source}
You did this! Paul yelled.
He sat at the edge of Amy’s bed, in her on-campus college apartment. She cowered at the other end, clutching on to her pink and green plaid blanket for protection.
His fist and finger waved frantically in the air. Like a madman politician, determined to strike fear in the hearts and minds of his congregation.
Paul had been holding himself with his other hand, which Amy hadn’t noticed, until the direction of his gestures caught her attention.
Naked as a jaybird, Amy held her breath as she leaned in closer.
Wart! She had just had unprotected sex with Rudolph, the red-nosed, wart-faced penis.
This horrific realization hit home like a sledgehammer. It blasted through Amy’s chest, and demolished the beating muscle that it was meant to protect.
Like a black hole, she collapsed.
Except the ways in which she was turned inward and dragged under would take years to appear on the surface.
Amy had been bit by a poisonous snake.
The thought of that wart, penetrating into her most private of parts, constricted her ability to fill up her chest.
Her heart sank like a ship taken over by water. There was no lighthouse to be found out in this dark ocean.
That sly fox, whom she called boyfriend, had boasted about about being “allergic to latex.”
Now, somehow this was all her fault.
His accusations grew larger.
Amy was stunned, frozen, and watched on in silent horror as Paul exploded in anger.
He must have forgotten about all of the other women that he’d had sex with, while being “allergic to latex.”
The man actually transformed into a fire-breathing dragon. The kind you see dancing through the streets on Chinese New Year’s. Complete with technicolor fireworks emanating from his ears.
She was only 19. Her first ever, and very scary, trip to the gynecologist had just happened, right before she’d met this man.
The awkward questions that came from the clearly Catholic doctor did a great job on their own to make Amy feel like a whore.
Her test results came back clean.
And, she was tested for every kind of STD.
His accusations were far from the truth.
But as the saying goes, don’t kiss a toad unless you’d like warts on your lips…
… because you can’t escape this dire fate once you’ve been poked by a wart-covered prick.
Amy’s next trip to the doctor would be even more of a catechism. The gift bag she would receive from that exciting excursion read HPV Type 16.
The Catch-22 is that this would end up being the catalyst to free her from the already endless abyss of a depression that she didn’t even know she was in.
You see, Amy had experienced a serious trauma when she was only 13.
As a result, she picked up smoking, and unknowingly locked herself into a state of isolation.
Her life was empty.
With the exception of weekend parties which typically ended with her passing out, an over-stuffed closet that never had anything in it when it was time to pick something out, and of course, cigarettes.
Amy spilled over with insecurity, obvious to anyone who paid attention.
Of course, she wasn’t one of them. She was too busy seeking affection from devilish men.
Looking to others for redemption will always lead you in the wrong direction.
In this case, it left an open invitation for catastrophe to come in, as a way to finally gear towards course correction.
Once Paul unwound from his rage, he reminded her of his love.
Amy was young and easy to manipulate.
Still naked in bed, she lit up a cigarette, took a big swig of denial, pulled the sheets up as high as she could, then did her best to smile.
Their relationship was a drug-induced laugh factory, geared towards having fun.
Their time spent together was dedicated to numbing the pain that each one of them brought to the table.
Paul had been deeply wounded in his boyhood.
Born to two deaf parents, he had inherited the role of the eldest son when he was only seven, which happened after he’d watched his brother throw his nine-year-old body in front of a car as it quickly made its way down the street.
A decision made with intention, in order to flee the horrors incurred by their babysitter, a.k.a. the sexual molester, now imprisoned.
Her favorite game involved ropes.
Amy definitely wore the Stockholm badge. Paul’s history made her feel bad.
Can you imagine?
Except, she didn’t really like it when he slept over, because he often woke up screaming with terror.
Amy attracted him as a mirrored reflection of her own dire situation, although it would take the better part of a decade in order for her to make that connection.
Her story is not as scandalous.
Her family was simply drenched in silence.
Her mother and father did not speak to one another, even though, night after night, they were together, side by side.
Just beyond the cloud of smoke, there they sat, each of them grasping a can of Old Style in their hand, while the television — a blue-ribbon, marriage-saving invention — took care of any need for conversation.
Her parents are prime examples of what actually happens when two people stay together for the children.
A-list actors, Amy’s parents loved to play host to her small batch of friends, which set the perfect stage for their favorite Happy Family performance.
Shortly after meeting Paul, Amy decided to divorce her friends, partly as punishment to her parents, but more importantly because they refused to entertain the idea that the tricksters who birthed her were not the fun, loving, talkative couple as whom they so disguised, who tormented her by playing nice in front of her friends, then shunned her once she was alone with them.
Amy learned at a very young age that in order to be heard, she had to get loud.
Otherwise, the loafs watching TV would just drown her out. They wouldn’t even turn around.
Amy was so focused on running away from her family that she didn’t notice the brick wall in her way, until she face-planted into it.
Now, it seemed that every bit of her was broken.
Amy was raised to live in denial.
So it should come as no surprise at all that she somehow stayed with Paul.
Still, it is important to give recognition to the fact that by doing that, she went against the advice of her own highly credible inner voice.
Yes, she stayed with the man who blamed her for the wart on his dick, who simultaneously proclaimed proudly that he could not wear condoms because he was “allergic to latex.”
One time, Amy’s frustration in the matter pushed her far enough to publicly call his bluff.
Ignited by excitement, his friends all stood up. These guys formed a line so that they could all give her a high five.
If only she had been on the lookout for signs, then maybe this could have convinced the naive young woman to go take a hike!
Really though, Amy was trapped…
… with a manipulative man, who would jerk away in disgust from her shows of affection.
Who despite all requests, pleas, or propositions, absolutely outright refused to wear any kind of protection.
There seemed nothing that she could do to put a protective barrier between them.
His emotional games and verbal challenges stripped her bare and wore her thin.
Sleepless were her nights with or without him.
There were no words in her repertoire clever enough to maneuver a way out of there.
Paul became a strong-armed bouncer any time Amy made her way for the door.
Though sure enough, the path she would take to be free from this pain, come hell or high water, would lead her to stand in her own personal power.
But for a few months longer, she continued on with Paul. Blissfully unaware of the rapid pace at which she was losing her thick head of golden hair.
Then, one night Amy awoke from her sleep to Paul already inside of her.
She inhaled, with the wretched stench of his boozy breath wafting in her nostrils.
She did not feel compelled to fight, nor was this a welcome delight.
Amy just laid there, with Paul on top of her. She remained very still and pretended to be unaware.
Silently, on that very night, she considered what this meant for her.
To him, she was a piece of meat for his beloved plaything. She was just the warm hole that he could use to momentarily vanquish the torments of his soul.
He did not actually care for her.
For once, she was absolutely certain of that. There was no turning back. No matter how hard he would try to convince her of this fallacious fact.
Amy at once decided that she’d had enough. Weighed down by Paul’s drunken body, she cut herself loose with the only tool that she knew how to use: a shrill scream that went directly into Paul’s ear.
It was so fierce and boiling over with anger that it would make even Cersei Lannister quiver.
And, you know what happens once you let the cat out of the bag? Well, in this case, it was followed by an entire stampede of ear-piercing screams which stormed their way through the room, at a pitch so high, one even took out a light.
Startled, Paul awoke from his drunken haze. In an attempt to protect himself from her rage, he flung himself off the blow-up mattress he used as a bed, and into the far corner of his room.
His ferocious fear-mongering returned once again.
Scalding hot words fired away at her — rubber balls that bounced off and disappeared into thin air.
Amy responded with a silent stare.
Without a word, she swooped up her clothes and carefully made her way to standing.
Confused, Paul scrambled to grab hold of the situation, though he dare not move as Amy made her way across the room.
Like a puma prepared to pounce, she kept her perpetrator locked into place with her steadfast gaze.
Naked, Amy opened the door.
She made sure that Paul remained in his place upon the floor as she made her way safely into the hall.
Once across the threshold, she shut the door behind her.
The rest of the house was in calamity.
Paul’s roommates were frantic and demanding to know the reason for her screams.
Amy’s birthday suit sent out an electric shock through the small crowd who had been eager to learn more about what was upsetting her.
Stunned to see her standing there made it easier to push past them. She offered up no explanation.
For once in Amy’s life, the sound of silence was on her side.
***
History has a way of repeating itself. Again and again, until we learn its lesson, as intended.
Historically, the victor writes the story. So while theoretically, the real-life ending did not occur quite as heroically for Amy, who cares really? This is her story.
Besides, it takes a true conqueror to be able to inject humor into a past fraught with horror.
***
Carly Evans is a Structure Constructor, whose mission is to establish stable platforms that will with stand the test of time. She believes that the most important foundations are the ones that hold us together on the inside. In honor of this, she practices strength-building through vulnerability. Carly likes to write short shorts. She is in the process of writing two children’s books, and is toying with the words that will captivate young adults. Astrology is the guiding light that led her through the darkest hours of her life. First Pluto pulled her under, then he taught her what it really means to rise and shine. Carly is also a certified firewalking instructor. She is dedicated to sowing the seeds of confidence into hearts and minds.
***
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