The Truth About Unspeakable Things by Emily Myers (people reading books txt) 📗

me, and then fell promptly asleep. I, on the other hand, haven’t slept a wink.

I was prepared for the unthinkable, for the drugs, alcohol, even for the occasional grope of a passing patron. I was prepared to witness the culture of rape so prevalent within the draped walls of Club Gent. What I wasn’t prepared for is the unspeakable.

My father is a member of Club Gent. My father, though I didn’t catch him in the act, raped a girl and left her naked and unconscious on the bathroom floor. And he . . . I shake my head and move my hand to my stomach as the nausea returns. He wanted me or, the girl I was disguised as, to come find him, to have sex with him. I can’t imagine what I would’ve done if he’d touched me, his own daughter. Would he have recognized me? What would he have done if he had?

My throat aches as I realize I don’t know the answers to my questions. I don’t know what my father would have done. I don’t know if he would’ve been angry or shocked. I don’t know if he would’ve helped me leave. I don’t know what he would’ve done to keep me quiet, to keep his secret from my mom and the town of Presley. He is the mayor after all.

My hand tightens around my coffee mug, so tight I could crush the glass with my palm with ease. I consider doing it and allowing the broken shards of glass to open me up and allow the pain to escape. I loosen my grip and exhale, knowing that that wouldn’t solve the problem or ease what I feel inside.

How did he even find himself in this club? He must’ve been a member of the same fraternity as Beaux. And therein lies the most unspeakable truth of all. My father allowed me to date and almost marry a rapist, a cheater, a liar, an abuser of women. How is that even possible?

If it weren’t for Marissa’s presence along with the smudged eyeliner still present on my worn face, I’d think this is all a dream. There’s no way this is real, but it is. Still, there’s so much I don’t know; and I need to know, now more than ever. Hopefully, Marissa will be willing to tell me more when she wakes.

I sip my coffee.

And then there’s Julian and Mason.

Mason may have helped me escape for the sake of his brother, but he also admitted that he was a member of the club. Which, in so many words, means he’s a rapist, an animal, just like the very men I’m working to put behind bars. Yet, he helped me. Yet, he loves his brother, his brother who I love, who I’m working to protect from predators just like his own flesh and blood.

How am I supposed to process this? How is Julian supposed to forgive me when I turn his brother in? And still, in the back of my mind, I wonder, does Julian know? Does Julian know about his brother’s . . . membership? No, he couldn’t. He . . .

I stand, short of breath as vomit rises into my throat.

“False alarm,” I whisper after several deep breaths.

I look to Marissa. Her blonde hair is long, like mine. She is fair skinned and has thin lips. Her cheeks are naturally red, yet her skin is clear and fresh, without the hoards of makeup that is. She can’t be older than twenty-one, though I’d barely give her that.

Is that what these men do? Prey on inexperienced, naïve girls? It’s an invitation-only club and they handpick who they invite. Sick. Even with the threat of blackmail, they’d have to be smart enough to pick girls too afraid or too naïve to leave when asked to take off their clothes. These girls would need to be excited about the possibility of being asked to such an infamous, secret club, probably freshmen or sophomores far from home, looking for a way to be accepted in a new city. Despite all of this, they must have something to lose, whether it’s their reputation, scholarship, internship, friends, or even the respect of their families.

I remember being their age. It wasn’t that long ago, and I had the whole world in front of me. Despite the drama with my family, I had the courage to leave home and start anew. I was attending an incredible university where I received an excellent education. I met people who I truly connected with and I graduated with a job lined up doing what I loved to do. My life, the one that I deserved, was within my grasp.

These girls must feel the same way. And like me, they must believe if they speak up, all of that goes away. So many of the girls I spoke with talked of how their life changed for the worse after their assault. But . . . it doesn’t have to be that way, at least not forever. Through Julian, I was able to learn that and now, I’m fighting for it. But the same can’t be said for the old me. The same can’t be said for so many other women before me. And it’s because of men like Beaux, it’s because of blackmail, it’s because of shame, it’s because of the rape culture and society’s refusal to accept it that women, including myself, carry this belief with them. But not anymore, not if I can help it.

Marissa twitches as the sun illuminates her face. It won’t be long now until she wakes.

* * *

Marissa sits across from me at the dining room table. After a cup of coffee and some eggs, she finally stops shaking. Though, she’s barely spoken or looked at anything other than the floor.

“My name is Marissa. I’d prefer not to say my last name,” she says quietly.

“That’s fine,” I tell her.

There’s a tape recorder between us, which I notice she keeps looking at.

“I’d like to start by telling you that you’re safe now. No one