A Brush With Mortality: A "Life With Lyla" Episode

A Brush With Mortality: A "Life With Lyla" Episode

by Paul Mellette

---She had run as far as she could. Running wasn't really the word for
the staggering attempt that she was making. She had thought that
running along the railroad tracks might in some way facilitate her
escape... but the cross-ties and the rocky rail-bed hindered her
running more than it did theirs.

Pretty well wasted by the alcohol and the crack, Lyla was now being
pursued by two men. She thought she recognized them from the party, in
her clouded mental state, she realized that they might have even helped
her along into this condition... the tall one had gotten her a couple
of drinks... and only now was she realizing that he had probably put
something extra into them...---

*****

It was another miserable duty night onboard my ship. I hated it, not
because the work was hard; on a normal duty night I'd usually get more
sleep than I would at home. Lyla wasn't on the ship... so every sixth
night, aside from my duties on fire-party, or as the duty "Sub-Sat"
storekeeper, I could pretty well recharge my batteries for the next
night... when Lyla and our passions would keep me up well into early
morning hours...

I had called her, as I usually did, and had failed to reach her... as
was all too often the case. Lyla had a penchant for making her own use
of my nights away... and that usually involved finding a drug-party she
could crash... and any pot, heroin, or crack that she might be able to
score. I had gotten used to it. I never liked it because I knew she was
putting herself at risk of all sorts of bad things. But Lyla was a big
girl; and even if she wasn't, all I could do by worrying was to drive
myself crazy worrying... I was stuck onboard the ship until the next
day at lunchtime... at the very earliest...

So at "muster" the next morning, and the changing of the duty sections,
I handed off my fire-party responsibilities to my relief and counted
the hours until I could return home. When I failed to reach Lyla at
night, I would usually run home during lunch to make sure she was ok.
Usually she was totally wiped out... physically spent from the abuse
she had give her body... but on this day, it went way beyond
that...

(To put this in perspective, for those who have read my Lyla series;
this story takes place shortly after I married Lyla and shortly before
she turned to me... and the Navy... to seek treatment for her
addictions in a Navy supported rehab program...)

At noon I left the ship and about fifteen minutes later was turning the
key in the door of our house. I walked in and found Lyla curled up in
the bed... almost in a fetal position... with the blankets pulled up
tightly around her. She had been crying, I could tell, and she looked
at me with the saddest eyes I had ever seen...

I sat on the edge of the bed and she cringed slightly. I went to caress
her face and she tried to block my hand with hers... it was then that I
noticed the bruise... the first one I saw...

On her upper arm, which was bare as she was naked beneath the covers,
was a large blackening bruise. I took her hand and pulled it to
me.

"What on earth happened to you?" I asked her.

Crying was the only response I got.

Gradually, between great sobs, she told me how she had been raped. Or
more exactly, the parts of it that she remembered. She vaguely
remembered resisting. She remembered the hands pulling at her...
holding her arms and prying her legs apart... there were two of them...
there were visible bruises to her arms and to her inner thighs from the
struggle... as well as a few scratches on her body... She didn't
remember everything, but the final thing she remembered sent chills all
the way to my soul...

She had passed out at some point; we both were certain that she had
been given something at the party... Lyla was sure she hadn't drank
enough to pass out on her own, and if anybody knew her limits and
capabilities, it was Lyla. She had always been able to drink damn near
anybody I knew under the table...

So... sometime later, well past midnight but before sunrise... she had
woken with a start... to the sound of a train roaring past. The rapists
had apparently tried to murder her as well because she was laying naked
across the tracks...

The woman had such incredible luck, I could never understand it... no,
she wasn't lucky being raped... but the tracks she had been left on
WERE the ones that saw the most use... for some reason the train that
night had run on the second set... which were in essence "the road less
traveled..."

We sat and cried and until we could not cry any more. I held her as she
cleansed her soul and soaked my shirt with her tears. Our bodies shook
with fear and grief and rage at what had happened... at what had been
attempted. I was outraged, needless to say, and was ready to call the
police... but Lyla wouldn't hear of it. Apparently her fear of the
people who had done this was such that she felt safer not reporting
it... not getting in further trouble with the drug community... or with
those who had already once tried to kill her...

*****

I had to return to the ship, much as I hated to... Fortunately my
office was kind of laid back and I was not extremely late... I was
pretty much useless for the rest of the day and as soon as we were
released from our duties for the day, I sped back home... to check on
Lyla and to see if I could not find some way to comfort her...

When I entered the bedroom again, Lyla looked more at peace. She still
looked shaken, but she motioned for me to come to her. I sat on the
edge of the bed and hesitantly kissed her. I was not sure how I should
treat her... like nothing had happened or like she was now made of
glass... Lyla answered the question for me...

She took my hand and pressed it to her face. She took her other hand
and stroked my own face.

"Make love to me," she said... in a quivering tone that implied that
she was unsure if I would.

In truth, until that moment, I WAS unsure what I should do... I worried
for her and I worried for me. I didn't know what disease might have
been passed on to her... and I didn't know how damaged her psyche might
have been from the ordeal... but I could never say "No" to her...

She had showered and dressed in simple white cotton bra and panties, I
discovered as I peeled back the blanket. I kissed her and moved my
mouth down her body... exactly as I had always done... the first taste
of her skin... the first touch of her delectable flesh... had melted
away all my own uncertainty... and despite her ordeal of less than
twenty-four hours prior, her body was able to find itself rocked by a
bone-jarring orgasm... and I was right there with her...

*****

The aftermath of this horrible event was a brief slowing down of her
wild ways... only brief, I'm afraid. Our normal love making was not
adversely effected, although I didn't have the heart to pursue any of
our fantasy/role play scenarios for some time... until one night she
suggested we get all the way back to normal... or abnormal... or
whatever it was that we were...

In a few short months, Lyla would "cross the line" again and find
herself pursued, the object of murderous intent by some local drug
dealers. That time it did drive her into remission and into rehab...
but tragically, her abstinence was not long term... and ultimately her
addictions proved fatal...

(While this article is non-fiction, it was also inspired... brought
back to the forefront of my memory... by the article by
victorbuhagiar
Love: Now or Never You might want to check it out as
well...)