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Implied Consent Amy Price was depressed. She had enough insight to know this beyond any doubt. Well that, and the culture at her school made them constantly aware of the symptoms and signs. Posters for "Beyond Blue", "Kids help line", and "Head space" littered the walls of her school corridors. Then there were the frequent wellness classes that were part of the curriculum. So she knew that everything she felt was documented, recorded and universal, but that did nothing to ease her torment. She had good reason to be depressed. Better than most she thought. Yet she could not talk about it. She could, and maybe should seek help as everything she had been taught instructed her to do. But she did not want to. At 17, and early into her final year of high schooling, the world was supposed to be her oyster. For her, it felt that she could not have found herself any further from that state of mind were she to even try. She sat in the cafeteria with her friends. The banter and exchanges were on par with always, and Amy played her part. She hid her sadness well. But her symptoms exacerbated if she chose to look over towards the 'A listers', engaged in their own lunch time frivolity. She watched, feeling somewhat nauseated, as Keira McKenzie and Stefan Hunter, the schools "it" couple, held court with their minions. Amongst them was Britt Ellerslie, and, as always, the mere sight of her, of them all really, reminded Amy strongly of the party Britt had hosted that had been the beginning of the badness. The event that had precipitated the destruction of Amy's life. This is not justice, Amy thought to herself, as she watched the popular kids. This is not karma. I was promised both these things and there has been no delivery of them. This was not fair. She thought about what she actually needed to give her the satisfaction she wanted. Was that still possible? Should she find out and then try and attain it? Or was it enough to just let things be? Amy felt that the lack of equity was actively precipitating her lowered mood. If wrath was seen to be rendered she felt her affect would elevate. But deep down she had her doubts about that. Revenge did not seem to be the panacea she had truly hoped it would be. There was no doubt she missed her best friend. There was a gaping hole in her life created by his absence. Yet that was the ironic dichotomy. She missed the concept of him. The boy she thought he was. Whom she had known so well, or so she believed, for 10 of her 17 years. However she realized now who he truly was. He was not at all what he seemed. He was simply someone who deserved nothing but her scorn and hate. She wanted him to suffer. She was told he would. And she could only assume he had. But she felt it was too brief. Did she want his torment to be more long lasting? Eternal even? Furthermore, she regretted that justice was meted in absentia. She had not been there to see it. Merely encountering the oblivious aftermath. She was assured he would know what was happening to him till the last, and exactly why, but she felt angered and cheated she had not been present to bear witness and testament. He had never shown the slightest comprehension of his grievous misdeed to make her think he would have understood the gravity of his crime and the suitability of his punishment. This was just one reason why she had wished she'd played some active part in the delivery of recompense. To give him that clarity. She felt like it would have given her therapeutic satisfaction to see his reaction when he knew, even just in those last moments, who had done this to him. His smug denial and lack of remorse giving away to a groveling and pleading for his life. Imagining him seeking her mercy to escape his fate, and her savoring the moment to deny it gave her an intense wave of sinister pleasure. Yes it truly was an opportunity missed. It chilled her a little to think of the darkness in her heart, yet she felt it likely her desire for blood lust reflected the true gravity of the transgressions against her. Still he was gone now. Forever. It did touch on her from time to time, the old 'act in haste, regret at leisure' adage. She was worried that the time may come when she forgives him for what he did and she may be filled with an uncontrollable regret for what she had in turn done to him. But she should never forgive him. It felt distinctly, right now that she never could anyway. If not the act itself. What he physically did to her. But the sheer betrayal of it. From the one she loved and trusted most in the world. How could he? Yes he deserved his fate. To be wiped completely from existence. The quandary for her now then, why does she still feel victim of a heinous crime, when in reality, as it was now, there was no perpetrator. Technically, she supposed, it never actually happened in this altered world, yet she still remembered it. Not acutely or vividly. But hazily. Although the haze was always there. Even before she had sought retribution. Not because the event had recently been phased out. The haze was because of her intoxication at the time. She had drunk to excess and made herself vulnerable. That's not to say she felt this put any onus back on her. She should have been safe. She should have been protected. Even as compromised as she was. But the person she had counted on, assumed would do just that; protect her and keep her safe, had been the very one to do the opposite. Right then and there, in the caf, for what was another of countless times, she was unwillingly drawn back to that night by her forlorn, tormented mind. The occasion of Britt's party. To rehash it. To ruminate over it, yet again. For although it could now never have been, it did truly happen. And it still felt very real, and very painful to her. She longed for a day when it wouldn't smart so much. Yet that still seemed some way off. Byron had cheated on her. She should have seen it coming but she hadn't. In fact it seemed she was the last to know. It was humiliating. And now Byron and Becky were a couple. Perpetually rubbing her face in it. So seeing them there, at Britt's party, shameless in their affection, indiscrete and uncaring about how Amy might feel, had made her so mad. So she drank. And drank. And got messy. Connor tried to stop her. Kept taking her drinks off her. Offering to take her home. But she would have none of it. She wanted to be drunk enough to go and tell the happy new couple what she thought of them, in no uncertain terms. But that opportunity never arose. The boldness she hoped alcohol would imbue her, allowing her to espouse her venom with wit, in the direction of her betrayers, never manifest. She passed way too quickly through the stages of inebriation to seize that sentinel moment. She just stumbled headlong into the role of drunk hysterical mess, and it got to the point where she was vomiting in the toilet, with Connor holding back her hair. At some point she blacked out, and when she stirred again, Connor had negotiated to get her lying down on the bed in Britt's guest bedroom. There Amy had descended into emotional wreckage. Wailing and sobbing and being pathetic. Wondering why she wasn't good enough for Byron. Why he would choose Becky instead of her. She clutched onto Connor for reassurance and support. He said all the right things. That was him of course. Always her rock. They had been best friends since primary school, from the age of 7 on. Like she had lamented. 10 years of wonderful friendship. Ruined. Obliterated. In a mere moment. For it was then, as she blubbered in his arms, he destroyed everything. As Amy had looked pleadingly, needingly into Connor's eyes, asking as to why she wasn't enough, he had told her he thought she was, and then he had kissed her. He kissed her! They were friends. Why on earth would he do that? She was drunk and befuddled, but she knew how wrong that was. And she told him so. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" She had slurred at him. He looked taken aback. Like he had expected her to like it. To want it. She'd just broken up with Byron for God sake. She was heartbroken. And Connor was, well...... Connor. It was then things became even more blurry. It could have been purely the alcohol, but in the aftermath Amy couldn't help but wonder if her drinks had been spiked. Connor had plotted it perhaps. What happened in that bedroom wasn't just spontaneous. But pre-meditated. All the worse. And his insistence on her going home was not to protect her but to take her somewhere alone to do what he then proceeded to do. She must have blacked out for a moment, or longer, for when she awoke her skirt was off and she could feel his hand down her panties. He was rubbing it across her labia, and onto her clitoris. Her top was pulled up over her face, her breasts exposed. "No. Stop!" She had said. But her worsening inebriation made her unable to fight, and resist. She was sliding in and out of consciousness. When she next awoke he was on top of her. His neck was pressed into her face, being somewhat taller than her. But he was INSIDE her. Thrusting into her. He was raping her. "Please stop! No!" She had screamed feebly. But he didn't. He just continued to assault her until he was done. Ejaculating inside her without any thought of or use of protection. Amy could remember Connor leaving. The look of confusion and guilt on his face. The weak apology that accompanied it. "Sorry Amy. I don't know why I did that. I better go." And he had fled. Leaving her there. She had laid there till pre dawn, when, whilst she still was drunk, she felt steady enough to walk. She had re-clothed herself in the garments forcibly removed from her, and gone home. Where she had spent the weekend locked in her room crying. Although the blurriness of the whole drunken affair offered some protective mechanism, in that she could not remember large chunks of what had transpired, the filth of his hands on her and other body parts invading her seemed chillingly memorable. She scrubbed and scrubbed in the shower till her skin was raw and the hot water ran out. In weaker moments she wondered if she had in fact given him the wrong signals, or he had simply misread the situation, in his awkward virginal ways, and accidently done it. But he hadn't behaved like an awkward virgin. He was violent and predatory and had hurt her callously as he thrust into her. He had made her bleed. He had virtually macerated her. He was simply cruel. She didn't want to go back to school Monday. But she forced herself to. She didn't know what to do about what had happened. On the one hand she wanted to report what was done to her. It was a crime. There needed to be punishment. On the other she knew she was so drunk she could never prove it wasn't consensual. She wanted to talk to someone for advice. The person she would normally use, was the very one who had so mortifyingly transgressed her. Her world was turned on its head and it no longer made sense to her. The first time she saw Connor at school that day she felt physically revolted. Feeling nauseated all over again and worried she might vomit on the spot. She thought he may avoid her out of guilt and self revulsion, but he came straight for her. She was alone in the schoolyard, travelling between classes. She braced and trembled as she thought about what he had done to her, what he had taken away from her. She was frightened and vulnerable all over again, but she could not let him see that. He had the audacity to smile at her and say, "Hi," as he approached. She fixed a brutal gaze on him. "Are you still mad about Friday night?" he asked meekly, in response to her withering look. "Are you fucking serious?" She screamed. "Get the fuck away from me! I never want to speak to you again." He looked shocked. How could he not be expecting this reaction? What was going through his arrogant evil mind? "Whoa!" he began. "Settle down Amy. I think you're totally overreacting. Can't we just be civil and talk about what happened." "No! You fucking arsehole! There's nothing to say. I should fucking report you. But I know how this goes. I know you'll get away with it. So I never want anything to do with you ever again. And trust me on this Connor, if there was some way I could hurt you, I truly would." her voice was cracking. She hoped he would think it out of anger rather than fear, but sadly it was more the latter. "Well if that's the way you feel fine!" His own moral outrage all the more infuriating for her. "You're being a total bitch about this Amy. After all we've been through together. After all I've done for you. I said I was sorry! Was it so hideous and revolting for you? Is that the way you feel about me?" "Well it certainly is now! You repulse me!" "I can't believe you're behaving this way. I don't know what the hell is wrong with you. But talk to me when you've calmed down okay." "That's never going to happen. Don't you ever come near me again." "Amy don't be like this." Connor made a feeble effort to be conciliatory. "Fuck off right now or I'll scream." He looked shaken, but it worked. He fled from her. And he never did approach her again. But Amy couldn't stand the sight of his smug face anymore, even from afar. He still had the audacity to behave as if he was the wronged party by her reaction to him. He seemed unrepentant and unremorseful. He did not seem to have any concept of the magnitude of the hideous misdeed he had performed. How could Amy have been so wrong about a person? Someone she loved and trusted was truly just an animal. It had shaken her faith in the world. It had made her question everything she thought she knew. In truth, it had destroyed her. It was in that state of vulnerability, in the days that followed, that she found herself at the Tarot reader. Trying to seek solace in the promise of a brighter future. She had all the air of a side show charlatan. Madame Zenith was her name. Amy was under no real illusions that answers would be found here. She just wanted to be told things would get encouragingly better. Whether it was true or not. It was in the probing questions of this fortune teller, who no doubt makes her living out of being able to read what people want, and tell them what they want to hear that caused Amy to crack. She abandoned her inhibitions and began to tell this stranger all the things that she had been unable to tell anyone else. And this mystic, or whatever she called herself, could see that Amy's greatest desire was justice and revenge. It was then that things took a peculiar turn. Darkness seemed to descend and Madame Zenith seemed to change. From kindly swindler to ominous reckoner. "I can give you the two things that you seek, that you need, to begin your healing," she had said, and Amy felt like she could hear reverberation in her words. "I can remove this boy from your life, so that you never have to look upon him again. You never have to think of him again if you choose, but I think that you may like to still, to know that justice has been administered. And secondly I will make sure he understands the severity of his crimes, for he shall experience exactly what you experienced. What he did to you, he will have done to him. "The third thing, I will do, which is the pinnacle of his punishment, is the knowledge of his own doom. He will feel himself fading from existence. The terror of the realization as he ceases to be. That all that he ever was, and all that he'll ever be was never real. No-one will remember him. No-one will miss him. Except you of course. You'll remember him but you certainly won't miss him." "How is this possible?" Amy had asked. Not truly believing but enticed by the talk of vengeance. All the flickering lights and unearthly tones was just effect. "I don't want to kill him." Although she wasn't entirely sure about that. "I didn't say kill. I will erase him," Madame Zenith clarified. "I don't understand the difference." "I would have thought that inherent." Madame Zenith made show of explaining patiently. "I have the power to reshape reality. This boy will find his body changing. Over a matter of moments he will feel pain unlike he has ever known as his body transforms and reshapes and he becomes a 17 year old girl. Then, whilst he's still trying to fathom that, come to terms with something his mind cannot possibly comprehend, he'll become increasingly aware his memories are fading. And being replaced. Memories of the boy that he was being replaced by those of the girl she has always been. She'll be aware to the very last, of the fate that awaits her, that the life she actually lived will be no more, replaced by a new one. And all who know her will only know her as the girl she is. Save you of course, you will be the only one immune and unaffected. But be assured in the last moment of sentience that boy will know that it is you who has been responsible for what is happening to him, and his final thought will be the realization of your fury, and one of true horror. Lastly, this newly formed girl will feel the full force of sexual assault, in a pattern very similar to your own experience. For she should suffer at the hands of a male just as you did." There was the briefest of pauses before Madame Zenith issued her summation. "This is karma. And I offer it to you. To enact it all you have to do is tell me his name." Amy thought. She was filled with such spite and hate. And frankly he deserved this. She wasn't killing him as such, as she had clarified, just turning him into someone else. Who will get to experience exactly what she experienced. She will be sexually assaulted. This is perfect restorative justice. If it was all just fraud, then no harm done, but if this were truly possible... if Madame Zenith could really do this, then surely this would ease her pain and suffering. Amy knew she had to do it. She had to say it. "Connor," she announced. "Connor McKenzie." ***** It was a surprise to Amy at school the next day that Keira McKenzie was one of the most popular girls at school. Certainly a major player amongst the 'in' crowd and in a reasonably long term relationship, by teen standards, with the much adored Stefan. It made Amy question the satisfaction she felt about the curse. Keira seemed happy and well pleased with her life. Of course she would have no recollection of ever being anything different. Of being Connor. It still felt a little bit to Amy like she had in fact traded up. Amy would never of course thought that about the idealized fantasized Connor she had in her head. The one she thought she knew. But the true Connor, degenerate rapist, was a lessor person than everybody. Adding to her dilemma, whilst Keira's contentment annoyed Amy, knowing the second half of the curse would put that to the sword didn't give her any solace. The ticking time bomb nature of things just didn't sit well with Amy anymore. This cheerful, if somewhat vacuous girl was at some point going to be sexually assaulted. It was these, and similar thoughts, that occupied Amy's mind in the cafeteria on this day, and on many that followed. So as time passed Amy found herself vacillating in both her views and desires. On the one hand she would relish in the just desserts, but on the other Amy felt the moral repercussions of her actions. Amy didn't want the assault to happen. Keira was a different person. She doesn't remember raping Amy so when it happens to her she'll be as destroyed as Amy was. Amy thought it would be better if Keira did remember what she had done as Connor so her punishment would make sense to her, with the added bonus of being ongoing, if she remembered who she once was and what she had lost. Yes, she wouldn't feel quite like the self satisfied popular girl quite so much any more if she knew who she used to be. Amy reached a tipping point over the ensuing days. Keira had to remember being Connor or the punishment just could not be justified. Amy went back to seek out the Tarot reading mystic once again. Of course by now Madame Zenith had proved her power. Clearly she was some sort of witch. But that begged the question. What sort of witch? She had helped Amy when Amy needed it. But Amy had requested something dark from her, and in a sense still was. Amy was tense about this second meeting, offering due deference. However Madame Zenith exhibited the same persona as before. Cheerful and non threatening. She listened symapthetically as Amy explained her rationale and her request. "I want you to give Keira Connor's memories back," Amy asked. "So that when.... What she did to me happens to her she understands why." "I understand dear." Madame Zenith seemed sympathetic. "So her grizzly fate can be administered in context." "Something like that. I guess." Although even that made her feel uneasy now. "I'm so sorry dear. I don't think that's possible." This was a bit of a blow. "Why?" "It takes immense power to erase someone and completely recast them. Your intense hatred fueled it. It can't be undone. Connor Mckenzie is gone completely. There is no bringing any of him back." Amy would have once been pleased about that, and knew that she perhaps still should. But for some inexplicable reason she felt unease about it. There was still a solution though. That could absolve Amy's conscience somewhat. "Then you need to stop the rape." "What dear?" "You said so yourself. Keira isn't Connor. She doesn't deserve to be raped. You have to stop it." "But it was part of your original curse. I can't undo it. The wheels are already in motion in this regard." "Does that mean it's too late? Has it already happened?" Amy tried to ascertain. "I expect all will be revealed in due time. My advice is to enjoy your revenge Amy. You got everything you wished for." That was where it ended. Amy left with the knowledge that she had effectively sentenced an innocent girl to be raped at some time in the future. And for there to be a rape there had to be a rapist. Were they one anyway? Or would someone be made to perform an act they otherwise wouldn't to fulfill Amy's revenge. It was all too awful to think about. Amy's depression merely compounded. She was filled with so much regret. **** Amy found herself studying Keira McKenzie then, virtually daily, but particularly on Mondays, after a weekend, when she felt such incidents most likely, to see if there were any tell tale signs of fate fulfilled. But so far there had been none. Amy was unsure what she would do when she saw the evidence that the looming assault had come to fruition. Apart from be filled with a sickening guilt. Would she console her? Offer her support. But how could she? They weren't friends. Not in this life. Keira had gone to a completely different primary school as compared to Amy, (and Connor). History had altered so much. They travelled in different circles and had never really spoken. Amy toyed with the idea that really she should just be the female version of Connor. She had the same parents, raised with the same values. Maybe they could be friends. Maybe they were meant to be. This being a fresh start. Perhaps she could put Connor's crime behind her and embrace Keira. But she seemed so different. Growing up the other gender meant her life experiences were quite distinct. She had a completely unique and incomparable personality. This made Amy sad for some reason. Ten years of friendship lost and destroyed because of one malicious act. Or two perhaps. One by him. Then one by her. The same doubts resurfaced. Could she have one day forgiven him if she'd left things alone and let him stay him? Or even if she couldn't - shouldn't she have learnt to just let him live. Had she acted with too much haste and now have a lifetime to regret what she had done? It was beginning to feel that way. *** Amy's friends were oblivious to her torment and her recurrent zone outs in the caf, or elsewhere; to the extent no-one noticed her apparent fascination with the activities of the popular kids. One day though it did mean Amy's obsession had made her unaware of her surrounds, and she got quite a start when Molly Francis addressed her. Amy hadn't even noticed her approach. "Amy," she began. "Can we have a private word?" "Yeah of course," Amy automated, and then followed Molly as she lead them away. Molly was a friend. One of those that successfully straddled the divide between the popular kids and the ordinary ones. She would normally spend her lunches with the likes of Britt, and the newly manifest Keira now of course, but she and Amy got along pretty well. They sat in a secluded spot, outside in the courtyard. "What's up?" Amy asked. "This is going to sound blunt, but I need to ask you something." "Okay." Amy was apprehensive. "Did you sleep with Stefan Hunter?" It was completely left field. So unexpected it left her stumbling over her words. "What? No! That's ridiculous. I hardly even know him. Why would you even ask?" "Because that's what he's saying," Molly noted with neutrality. Amy suddenly felt mortified and confused. Why would he say that? Especially when he's with Keira. It made no sense. "Who to? When?" "You know how Kyle doesn't much like the boys' foul mouthed locker room talk?" Kyle was Molly's boyfriend. He was a decent guy. Amy didn't respond, there was nothing to say. "Well he overheard Byron and Stefan talking about you. Comparing notes as it were." Byron is such an arsehole, Amy couldn't help but think. She hated that she'd even dated him now. And especially hated that she had slept with him. But why on earth would Stefan say that? Molly continued, "I know Byron cheated on you, and it wasn't nice. But it would be pretty hypocritical of you to do that. I know you don't know Keira but she's a sweet girl. She doesn't deserve that. So if it's true, then you better tell her, or I will." "Molly I never," Amy tried to emphasise her earnestness. "I would never. When did this supposedly happen anyway?" "Stefan said Britt's party. They were laughing about how you were all cut up about Byron and got so pissed. So shitfaced drunk. And then you were gagging for it and did it with Stefan in Britt's guest bedroom." Time stood still for Amy then, as a result of Molly's words. It came then as a gradual chilling creeping awareness of what she had just heard, and what that actually meant. Amy felt the world spinning, and with it an overwhelming sense of panic and nausea. She knew she didn't have long before decompensating so she had to quickly conclude the conversation. "I didn't sleep with Stefan." Ironically she supposed that was a kind of lie. "But I will speak to Keira and sort it out Mol. I promise." Molly seemed appeased. "I gotta go now though," Amy said and abruptly left. Fleeing across the courtyard and out of the school. She ran to a nearby park and sat on a bench. She was hyperventilating, and even in this open space she felt closed in. She thought back once again to that night at Britt's party. Straining, searching, scraping her memory for clues. Reality hadn't altered for her. She had still been raped even though Connor had never existed. Now she understood why. Purely and simply because it wasn't him. It was never him. Connor had kissed her. There was no denying it. He shouldn't have. Although the way she missed him so acutely right now Amy began to think that maybe he was right to. But she had yelled at him. And then he..... He apologized. And ran away. Hurt and embarrassed. The full force of that realization was upon her now. Amy's drunken memories had sequenced it wrong. Connor wasn't apologizing for raping her. He was apologizing for kissing her without her consent. Then he had fled. When Amy was being sexually assaulted, the boy who would have protected her was long gone. Sent away feeling humiliated and rejected. She could see her assailant's face clearly now, grunting and thrusting on her in her near paralytic state. At first her top was over her face when he was fingering her, and then the neck and upper torso of her much taller assailant was obscuring her vision as he fucked her. Anatomically he was too tall ever to be Connor. Far more likely to be one of the six foot three plus giants of the first 18. She combed her memories for glimpses of her assailant, until finally she found them. And it was indeed Stefan Hunter. Amy became cognisant of the true horror now of all this. Through her thirst for revenge she had created a reality where the person whom she cared most about in all the world, who would never have hurt her, was now a complete stranger to her and the girlfriend of a rapist. This was a hell unlike any she could ever have imagined. And she had unleashed it. **** Her own priorities shifted dramatically in an instant. She could have been overwhelmed by the evil wrong she had committed, but she directed all her attention to the duty of care she had now. There was still the other part of her curse to be enacted. And it had to be prevented. She had to save Keira from a fate she most certainly did not deserve. Compounding it all, there was a large degree of time pressure. In part due to the unknown temporality and nature of the attack, but also, currently as they stood, Amy and Keira were nothing to each other. But that could change at any moment if Keira got wind of the circulating rumors about Stefan and Amy. Rumors that Stefan seemed to be unashamedly propagating. They would be enemies, and any hope of Amy reaching out to her would be instantaneously lost. All Amy could think as she summoned the courage to regroup and alight the park bench was Fuck! This was such a fucking mess of biblical proportions. Oh God. How could she fix this? There seemed to be no possible way. All she could hope for now was damage minimization. Was her own life salvageable at this point? Could she live with what she had done? She certainly didn't feel that she could right at that moment. In spite of the way Madame Zenith had dressed it, Amy had killed Connor. Killed her best friend. Who was completely innocent. In fact even more dire than that. His 'crime' was that he had shown how much he cared for her when she was at her absolute worst. And now to further compound such a desolate situation, another person, a completely different person, Keira, was soon enough going to have her own life destroyed. Because of Amy. Amy's first pressing task was to return to Madame Zenith. She wondered if this new development, Connor's innocence and Amy's loss of all vendetta and overwhelming remorse could generate a power of its own, and turn him back. She suspected that may be fanciful wishful thinking, but she could only hope. But returning to the place where she had visited her, not once, but twice, revealed an empty store front. Madame Zenith had gone. Leaving no trace. Not that she was seeking some sort of absolution but Amy began to wonder if Zenith was in fact malevolent. Had this been an evil plot all along? Or was Zenith merely the instrument of Amy's consumption by blinding hatred? Amy knew she would have to continue to search for her. But where to even start? If she wanted to not be found then Amy imagined she wouldn't be. Had she vanished for good? Wreaking her havoc and moving on to the next victim or victims. Amy could but speculate. But there was no time for that now. This avenue was a dead end. She had to get to Keira. She had to warn her of what was potentially to come. On return to school from her fruitless journey Amy found classes were back in session, so Amy knew she would have to wait until the end of the day. Advantageously, knowing so well the route Connor would take to and from school Amy thought about the best position for an interception. It was a weeknight so it seemed less likely that Keira would head off somewhere with Stefan. Just thinking about them together sickened Amy now. Oh Connor, Amy sighed with unfathomable angst, what have I done to you? **** Fortuitously perhaps, things panned out the way Amy had hoped, Keira was walking home alone. Amy followed at a respectable distance. "Hey," Amy called out from afar, as Keira got close to her house, so as not to startle her, "can I've a word?" "Oh Hi," Keira said cheerily enough after turning and seeing who was shouting at her. This told Amy that Keira was still unaware of what Stefan was saying. They weren't enemies yet. Thank heavens for small mercies she found herself reciting. "Amy isn't it?" Keira continued as the distance between them rapidly closed. "Yep sure. What can I do for you?" This was reality now, Amy reminded herself. Keira is a nice girl. Of course she would be. Just as Connor was a great guy. But she is a complete stranger. Knowing her by name was about the best that Amy could honestly expect. When Amy caught up to her though, she realised this was not an exchange they should be having out in the open. "Keira, I need to talk to you about something. But it's not the sort of conversation we should be having on a street corner, can we perhaps go somewhere?" "This sounds ominous," Keira replied, but light heartedly. "Should I be worried?" "What about 'The Penny drop caf?'?" Amy suggested. Choosing specifically not to answer the question. It was Amy and Connor's favourite haunt. It seemed like a natural suggestion. "Yep, it's nice there," Keira agreed. "But we're near my place. Mum and dad won't be home. We can go there, unless you really need a latte." "No. That would be fine." Amy was equally happy with that. "This is my place," Keira announced as they turned up the drive. If only she knew how well Amy did know that. "Come on in." Amy followed silently. "I'm just gonna get out of my uniform if that's okay," Keira stated, once they were in the hall. "I'll just wait in there." Amy indicated the living room. "Na. Come on up, I won't take a sec." Amy followed Keira up to her bedroom. The starkness of the contrast hit Amy hard. What once was an unkempt boy's bedroom that Connor would make token efforts to tidy whenever Amy came around was now a pristine feminine 'display home' worthy chamber. "Grab a seat," Keira suggested, indicating her desk chair. "Or you can plonk on the bed if you like. I hate our uniform don't you?" she asked Amy, seeming to make conversation. The girls' uniform consisted, in winter, of a long sleeve white shirt, which you could either wear with a tartan skirt to the knee, or a pinafore in the same pattern. You could wear a jumper (pullover) on the cold days, and there was a blazer, but no-one ever wore that. Keira wore the skirt over black tights. Like most of them, she'd taken the skirt up a bit, but not nearly as much as some. "Here's hoping that they make good on bringing in the trousers option for us. Although by the time that's happened we'll have probably graduated, donchya reckon?" she quipped. Amy smiled in response. Keira opened her cupboard, which Amy noted was not dissimilar to her own. A combination of skirts dresses, pants and tops. Ranging from fancy to casual. A far cry yet again from the grungy collection of disordered boy clothes it had once contained. Keira pulled out some clothes and started to unbutton her blouse. Amy instinctively glanced away. Keira wasn't being overly showy. In the change rooms at school they often disrobed in company; Keira just seemed to be relaxed in Amy's presence. Amy wondered if this was something residual. Perhaps she felt familiar to her. But she was realistic enough to accept this was probably foolish optimism. She wasn't sure why, but when Keira's shirt was off, Amy took the opportunity to surreptitiously glimpse at her former friends new semi naked form. Keira was very pretty. And she had a good body. There was no doubt. She wore a white bra that seemed practical with just the tiniest of lace trim. Her breasts were similar in size to Amy's own. B bordering on C perhaps. But as Amy widened her view to encompass all of the slim girl's torso it was then she saw the litany of bruises. Her eyes widened and it was then that Keira caught her looking and suddenly became self conscious. Rapidly pulling her casual long sleeve top down over her. "Sorry," Amy squeaked meekly as Keira gave her a bit of a glare. Keira softened and replied. "That's okay." Amy made sure to turn fully away whilst Keira slipped out of her skirt and pulled on her jeans. "Do you wanna go back downstairs and I'll see if there's anything to eat?" Keira asked once fully dressed. "Okay," Amy replied. She followed her down. She sat at the kitchen table whilst Keira rummaged for food, producing half a pack of Tim Tams. "Score!" Keira joked and joined Amy at the table, offering her the pack. Amy took one. "I'm sorry about what happened with you and Byron," Keira began. "He's so tactless. I did tell him to tone at down and not rub Becky in your face. I know we don't really know each other, but I can tell that you seeing them makes you sad." It did. Thought Amy. But that's not the reason anymore why I look so despondent when you see me looking your way. "Thanks." Amy couldn't get the sight of the bruises out of her mind. Maybe she plays girls rugby or something. At least she hoped. But she didn't really seem the type. "I need to talk to you about something though," Amy began. "Something that happened at Britt's party." "I heard about it," Keira replied. "I wasn't there, but everyone was talking about you. They said you got pretty wasted." Well you were there, thought Amy. Just, sadly, in another life. And you haven't heard the whole story by any stretch. "Yeah. I did. I was an idiot." Such an unfathomable understatement, she thought. "You were hurting. We've all been there. We've all done that. Anyone who matters, like all your friends, will know why you did it. They'll understand," Keira offered kindly. Oh Connor, Amy thought looking at this girl. I miss you so much. And her heart was breaking magnitudes more than any feeling she had over the loss of Byron. But she had to steal herself. "I got so drunk I passed out in the guest bedroom," Amy continued. "But... Oh Keira I'm not sure how else to say this to you. Except to swear it's the truth. But I woke up to find Stefan raping me." Amy fully expected then, for this girl to start screaming at her, and throw her out of the house. But she sat there silently. Looking at Amy sadly, rather than disbelievingly. Her facial expression expressed the shock and concern that would accompany such a revelation. It probably left her not knowing what to say. So Amy continued. To fill the silent void. "It's just that now he's bragging about it to his mates. How I wanted it. And I was sure that eventually the rumors will get back to you and you'll think I'm a boyfriend stealing slut." "I don't think that," Keira virtually whispered when she finally found the wherewithal to speak again. "Then do you believe me?" Amy asked with a tone full of worry. "Of course. I'm so sorry that happened to you," Keira said sympathetically. "Well you have to break up with him. You have to get away from him," Amy felt such relief. Something was finally going right. "Why?" Keira had a quizzical look. Amy was incredulous. "Because of what he's capable of." She knew then she had to ask to quell the sickening thought brewing in her. "Those bruises. Are they from him?" "It's just life Amy," Keira seemed so matter of fact. "Men in general. Stefan in particular. He just has a large sexual appetite. He always wants to, and sometimes I don't. So he does it whether I want to or not. I've learnt not to resist, but sometimes he just gets mad with me anyway." Amy couldn't think clearly. She felt sicker than she ever had before. The gravity of Keira's words splintered her core. She breathed deeply to re-gather. "Keira! He's abusing you. He's raping you. You can't allow him to do this. You have to get away from him." This is what the curse meant, Amy realized with yet more sickening remorse. Connor was to suffer as Amy had. Except for him it was continuously. Never endingly. Repetitive rape. "They're all the same though Amy. I mean look at Byron. You tolerated all that infidelity with the girls from the private school down the road. It was only when it was closer to home, with Becky, that you put your foot down. So if I leave Stefan. What then? The next one will be no different. And Stefan loves me. He told me so." Amy reeled from the revelation, but also Keira's concession of defeat. She's so insipid and spineless. But Amy realised it was because she's essentially a battered wife. "I never knew about that," Amy retorted on uncontrollable reflex. "The private school girls." "Oh God." Keira appeared mortified. "I'm sorry Amy. I had no idea. I didn't mean to exacerbate things. I'm truly sorry," she repeated. "It's just a reflection on him though. Not you. He's probably still cheating on Becky. It's like I said though. They're all like that. You just have to decide what you'll tolerate." "They aren't all like that," Amy responded adamantly. She certainly knew one in particular who wasn't. But she'd erased him from existence hadn't she? "I mean look at your dad," she offered an alternative. "He would never behave like that." "That's true," Keira conceded. A little puzzled by the implication Amy knew her dad. "But he's a different generation. Things certainly aren't the same now." Amy didn't know how to respond to that. Was that actually a reflective indictment on society today? She focused on her mission though. "Please Keira. Break up with him. Get away from him. You truly deserve someone better." "Oh Amy. Don't you realize. There is no one better. He's the alpha male. The most popular boy in school. I'm lucky to be with him." There seemed no convincing her. Was this part of the curse? Was she destined to be trapped in this cycle of abuse forever? How could Amy save her when she seemed so resigned to her lot? Amy feared she couldn't. Maybe the best Amy could hope for was damage minimization. "Does anyone else know what I know?" Amy asked. "About what he does to you." "God no!" Keira replied rapidly. "I normally keep the bruises hidden. I don't know why I was so careless with you." "Maybe people should know." "But that would hurt his reputation." "Fuck his reputation! He's a rapist. He raped me, and he's raping you." "Please don't tell anyone Amy," Keira begged pathetically. "It won't always be like this. He's sure to get drafted by the national league and he'll take me with him. But if there's talk of abuse he'll never get picked. And that will just make him behave even worse." Keeping it quiet was the last thing she wanted to do, but the look of plead on the other girl's face told her she really had to. Was that really the ambition Keira had now? To be a footballer's wife? Connor had such grand plans for a life beyond high school. I guess that's all gone now. "I won't. If that's what you want," Amy begrudgingly conceded. "But you have to let me help you." "Okay." She's meek. But accepting. "I'm going to give you my number. And I want you to call me if you're ever scared or hurt or just need to get away from him okay." "Okay," she said again. "I'm serious Keira. Any time. Day or night. I know your secret now so we're friends. You have to trust me." "That I can do." Keira smiled slightly and pulled out her phone. "What's your number?" "Oh four Oh two," Amy began. "Oh four oh two," Keira recited as she punched in the numbers. "Five six eight. Two four one," she parroted back. Except Amy hadn't said that, she hadn't got any further than the first four digits. Amy's mouth fell open as Keira seemed totally oblivious to what she had just done. Amy's heart began to race. He's still in there! He must be. He knew my number off by heart. And so does she! She could tell herself it was just some tiny residual trace. A tiny burnt ember left behind from the obliterative inferno that destroyed him. But she refused to believe that. If Keira remembers my phone number what else of Connor lives in there? If there is enough of him to reach then maybe I can save her from Stefan. She knew what she had to do. "Keira does the name Connor mean anything to you?" "Umm. No. Connor who?" "Connor McKenzie?" "No. I don't know him. So I don't think we're related if that's what you're asking." "Oh okay." Amy was deflated but not defeated. "Anyway," she regathered quickly. "Tell me about yourself Keira. I'd like to get to know you better." Keira seemed happy with the attention, and complied with her background narrative. To Amy then, this was a snapshot of her rewritten life, but also a chance to search for clues. What similarities were there between Keira and Connor? And how could Amy use them to help her friend? Amy stayed for a few hours. When Keira's parents got home they invited her to stay for dinner. A suggestion she politely declined. She was a stranger to them now too. In Connor's time it was not so much an invitation, but an assumption. "You eating with us tonight Amy? Or going home?" It was no surprise to her though they would extend the same offer, albeit more formally. Amy wanted things to be back as they were. She feared that they could never be. Would there be a time in the future when her presence at the McKenzie dinner table was taken for granted as it once was? Would they, could they find the happiness once again that seemed irretrievably lost? She did not know. She could only wish. It was when she was home alone in her room that night that her mind finally caught up with her and she could process all she had learned in the preceding day. The sheer magnitude of it. The more she thought about what she had done to Connor the more weighted down by remorse she became. Why didn't she believe in what she knew? How had she ever let herself believe Connor would hurt her? Why didn't she search her memories harder? Why did I ever let myself get talked into such a cruel and permanent revenge? So intense was her self recrimination it may well have plunged her into psychosis but for the tiny flickering candle she held onto with all her might. The phone number. For it signified the one thing she so desperately needed right then. Hope. "Please God," she prayed to an entity that she was not sure she believed in. Although after seeing what had happened to Connor she felt that surely she must. "I know I have done so much wrong. Please help me to make it right. Please bring Connor back to me." **** The next morning, although unintentional, Keira intersected with Amy just before they reached school. Amy greeted her enthusiastically. It was reasonably mutual although Keira's brow was furrowed. "How'd ya sleep?" Amy asked, more by way of conversation. "Not that great," Keira replied. "Me neither," Amy said. Neither asked the other why. "Hey," Keira began. "Today; don't take this the wrong way; but don't look like you know me any better than yesterday. Especially not around Stefan. I'm not sure what he'll do if he finds out we're hanging out." "You mean pretend I still don't know you?" Amy asked. She was annoyed. "Not forever Amy. It's not like I'm ashamed of you. I had fun with you last night. Just let me sort Stefan out first. I need to prepare him if I'm going to bring you into our group." "Keira. My whole point is to get you out of that group. You belong in my group." Well Connor did. But Keira was different. Still, Amy believed that group was toxic. Not just Stefan, but all the arrogant entitled men in it. That's why Keira's perspective was so skewed. The only boys she knew were all the arseholes. "And I can tell you for free I'm going nowhere near Stefan for the rest of my days. Except perhaps to shish kebab him." If Amy expected some sort of reaction to her provocative statement she didn't get it. "Let's just cool it today," Keira stated. "And I'll come around to your house after school tonight. What's your address?" "I told you yesterday remember," Amy lied. Here's hoping that's ingrained in her too. "No. I don't think you did," Keira replied. "Or if you did I've forgotten already. I'm a blonde remember," she laughed. It was disappointing. The notion that the phone number was a one off was resurfacing. Amy felt distinctly like her prayers had gone unanswered. Amy told her the address and there wasn't the slightest glint of recognition. The day was uneventful and Amy spent too much time daydreaming about possible ways to make Keira remember. What triggers could she use? She found it disconcertingly hard to think of anything. Was she forgetting Connor too? The witch had indicated that would not happen. But if it did? Well that was just too sad to think. Too complete. Too final. Because then Connor would simply never have been. For even if Keira would never remember him, as it now stood he would still live on in Amy's memories. And she could celebrate him and grieve him. There would be nothing more dire than the concept that even that could be taken away from her. She felt she could allay her fear though. It wasn't so much that she couldn't think of any significant memories of him. It was perhaps because they were all significant. He had always been there. So nothing really stood out. She had taken him so much for granted. He wasn't fading. She just hadn't appreciated him enough to make her memories of him special. She raced home after school, nonetheless, even without a plan to try and draw more of Connor out of Keira. Amy fretted for a time that Keira may simply not come. Cool on her and slip back into her world. But the doorbell rang presently and Amy was relieved. "Come in," Amy announced brightly. "Come up to my room." Keira stepped apprehensively across the threshold. There was definitely more tension than yesterday. Amy could sense it and it worried her. "Everything okay?" Amy asked as she lead them upstairs. "Yep," Keira said through gritted teeth. She was putting on a brave face. But why? Amy opened the door and lead them into her bedroom. "So this is my sin palace," Amy joked. "Without any sinning...." But when she turned to face Keira the girl was pale and shaking. "Keira what's wrong?" Amy asked panicked as her 'new' friend started to cry. "When?" she began through little sobs. "How have I been here before?" It was clear that Keira had some recollection of the countless hours she had spent in this room. It was unaltered compared to her own. There would be no triggers in Keira's reformatted bedroom. But here there may be many. It was clearly unnerving Keira. Memories of things she simply should not know. Amy went to her then. She could not help herself. She threw her arms around her in a tight embrace, burying herself in her and starting to cry too. Keira instinctively hugged her back. "Oh Connor!" Amy began, without thinking. "I'm so sorry I did this to you. Did this to us. I've ruined everything. And I don't know how to fix it. I don't know if I can." Keira broke off the embrace first. "I don't understand what's happening to me. Am I going mad?" she sounded so afraid and uncertain. "Am I in danger?" "Not from me," Amy assured. "Maybe from your violent boyfriend though." Keira ignored the jibe and drew in a large breath. She felt she had, at least for the time being, regained her composure. "So after you left last night I asked my mum if we knew a Connor McKenzie. She laughed and said no. But she told me that's what they would have called me if I was born a boy. But you seemed to know that. And just now you called me that. What the hell is going on?" "I'm not trying to hurt you." Amy again tried to assuage fear. "I guess," But it was laced with skepticism. "It's just that overnight I had the most vivid dreams. I don't remember all of them. But in one of them I was here. In this room. Exactly as it is. With you. And I was a boy. How can I see this room in my dreams when I've never been here? And why am I dreaming I'm someone else? Supposedly this Connor?" It was happening. Just as Amy had hoped. She was remembering. Amy had to seize the opportunity. She proceeded before any further consideration. "Because you were him." It wasn't said like a startling revelation, more a simple statement of fact. "That's impossible." It was Keira's only logical response. "It's true. There was a witch. And a curse-" She would own up to blame in due course. Just not now. "You were Connor. But you were turned into Keira. And you only remember being her. But I'm the only one who remembers you being him." There was a moment of absolute silence. Far briefer than it probably seemed. "You're fucking nuts Price!" Keira turned hostile. It was too much for her to possibly believe. "Look. I think it's for the best you just stay away from me. And don't you dare mention any of the stuff I told you. If that gets out I'll spread rumours about you," It was completely overwhelming for her. Her fear and confusion propagated anger and all kinds of adrenaline induced defense mechanisms. "I wouldn't." Of course Amy wouldn't. But would Keira? Was she just making threats to protect herself or was she really just a nasty bitch like the rest of her cohort? "Good. Well let's just keep to ourselves and never mention any of this again. No more of this crazy talk okay?" "You were my best friend!" Amy was still trying. "Yesterday you knew my phone number without me even telling you." "I'm gonna go." Keira began to back away. "Just cut out the insanity alright? I'll see you around." "Keira...?" But she left without further word. **** Amy despaired. But she would not give up. Once again she would have to re -evaluate her next strategy. In the days that followed Keira kept to her plan. Avoiding Amy at all costs. Sticking close to her dirtbag boyfriend. She rebuffed any attempts by Amy to talk. Amy had hoped the seed was planted and it was just taking time to germinate. Maybe more and more of Connor's memories would come back and Keira would come to her senses and come back to Amy. But as time passed Amy feared the opposite. That Keira had quashed and suppressed what she considered aberrant thoughts, and they had all now faded away. School life went on. Weeks ticked by. No more was spoken of Amy and Stefan. Amy figured Keira had put a stop to it somehow. She hoped that this was a sign Keira had stood up to Stefan. In due course it became sadly apparent that this was not the case. They remained very much a couple, and whether it was Amy's hypervigilance or not, to her it appeared that Keira was becoming more downtrodden with each passing day. She was losing her spark. Losing more of her 'Connorness' perhaps. (Were that such a thing). Or just losing her will in general. **** A few weeks later it became too much for Amy to sit on what she knew. She had to do something to help. It wasn't so much about easing her conscience. She couldn't see a way to get to Keira directly. But she relied on the respect and comfort she had with a family she once was virtually a part of to believe they would know what to do. Waiting until Keira was out with Stefan one night she paid a visit to Mr and Mrs McKenzie. She didn't say anything about how their daughter used to be their son, but she did tell them what Stefan was doing to her. She hoped they would help. They were beyond shocked of course, but they would quickly intervene, they assured Amy. **** The following weekend Keira was on her doorstep. It had been over two months since she was last there. "Come in!" Amy suggested warmly. "I don't think so." It was returned with bitterness. "Have you had any more memories?" Amy ignored her tone and continued hopefully. "No! Thank God! More like hallucinations you mean. They've all gone. It was hanging around with a crazy bitch like you was sending me loopy." "Keira!" Amy was both hurt by the spite but dismayed by the setback. Seemingly insurmountable now. "Well I want to say a lot worse but I'm being restrained because I know you're a mental case. But I just wanted to personally say thanks a fucking lot for telling my parents. As of tomorrow I'm off to a Catholic girls' boarding school 250 kilometres away to finish my high schooling. With nuns and all. Because of you I lose everything. Stefan. He'll go off to the big leagues with someone else now. All my friends. My social standing. This place I'm going, it's effectively a convent. I'll never be touched by a boy again." Amy sighed. "If you think I'm going to apologise for getting you away from Stefan I won't. I am sorry though that your parents are sending you so far away. But at least you'll be safe there." "You mean from you? You're the only one I need protecting from" "I'm not your enemy." "Then why do you hate me so much?" "I don't hate you. In fact truth be told I love you. Or I loved Connor at any rate. You're just a bit harder to handle." "You're not still on about that?" Keira snarkily rolled her eyes. "You know what? Maybe I should return the favour. Have a talk to your parents next time you're out. Tell them all about the bizarre delusions you're having about people changing genders. Tell them how it all started after you drunkenly seduced and fucked my boyfriend and then couldn't handle it when he still chose me afterwards!" "You bitch!" Amy screamed and smacked Keira hard across the face. To make light of her rape was still too much to take, no matter how time may pass. Keira reeled back a step and brought her hand up to her smarting cheek. She didn't retaliate. She looked at the ground below her for a few moments before raising her eyes and glancing daggers at her assailant. "So there's your true sentiment Amy." Keira became expressionless now as she issued her statement with feigned calm. "I'm glad I don't remember much. Because what I do remember is pretty miserable. A prime case in point is you reacted almost identically to how you did just now the one and only time I ever kissed you," she continued to back away. "Loved me my arse!" Then she turned her back and began to leave. It hang hard in the air as the distance grew between them. "Connor!" Amy called when she realized what Keira had said. But she did not turn. "Keira!" she tried to correct herself. "You remember that?" Finally she turned back. "Don't you get it Amy? I wish I didn't." "But what else do you remember?" "Not much. The less the better." "But what about all the good times?" "What good times?" "There were countless." "Well answer me this then. How did I end up like this? Did you do this to me?" "It's not that simple," It was a confession of sorts. Keira reacted as if she had feared and concluded such. But to hear it affirmed clearly shook her. "Ha!" she tried for bravado even as her voice cracked within her. "Just as I figured. You hate me!" she turned away again before the tears could form. "Well trust me honey. The feeling's mutual." Keira did not turn back again, in spite of Amy's cries. She just kept marching on, from a past she did not understand, towards a future that seemed so uncertain. Epilogue There was so very little to do, on an afternoon without classes. The one horse town near the boarding school was the epitome of rural dullness. But Keira wandered down the main street to pass the time nonetheless. An activity she had done many times before. She was lonely. She had maintained a degree of aloofness from her new class mates. She was a popular girl at her old school. She hated being the new girl. It would be a long road before she returned to the top of the pile, she suspected. She had considered a liaison with one of the local boys. Surrounded by nothing but other women made any port in a storm seem attractive. But she could not bring herself to dabble. Any one of them would be a major come down from Stefan, and she felt she wasn't quite that desperate yet. But there was more. It wasn't as simple as that, much as she would have liked it to be. She continued to be haunted by memories of a life that never was. By the boy she could never have been. It warded her off hunting for a mate, and unhinged her life generally. If it were all real, and Amy truly had done this to her, she could not understand and reconcile as to why. The few moments she could recall they were happy. Had Amy seriously done all this too her: Changed her gender; erased her memory; trapped her in an abusive relationship; then arranged for her to be banished hundreds of miles away; all because of one ill conceived kiss? It seemed so. Sometimes she wished she could forget. Make all these Connor memories go away, and just go back to being the Keira she was before Amy ruined her life. Other times she longed for revenge upon this person who claimed to be her friend, but oh so clearly wasn't. If she was allowed but one of these two wishes, she would idly speculate, she wondered which she'd choose.. **** Aimless meandering was about the only displacement activity she felt capable of when her thoughts ate away at her. Down the road she went of this tin pot Hicksville. Past shops both drab and hokey, that seldom captured her attention. This time though there was a new business that drew her unexpectedly. "Madame Zenith's fortune telling!" Keira read out loud. Keira didn't think she'd seen this store before. And it was only a few days since her last loiter. Maybe she just hadn't noticed. It was something that perhaps before, she would have laughed off and ignored. But not now. "What the hell," she thought, as she found herself considering entering. "Why not?" After all what harm could it possibly do? "Come in my child," Madame Zenith beckoned serenely from her doorway, to entice her in. "You look troubled," she began. "Tell me what aggrieves you!" Madame Zenith smiled wickedly as Keira went past her through the threshold and was not looking. "I may be able to help." The end.