Chapter 1: Darcy

Five years ago, Darcy had a different name. A name that made her feel like a completely different person. She shuttered a little, thinking back to the hateful words that her father tossed her way, stretched in ugly slurs from his drunken mouth.

“Darcy, you’re just like your mother!” he yelled, hurling the cap of his Heineken bottle right at her head. “You better straighten up and act right, or you’re going to turn out to be a bitch just like her.”

The b-word hit her face like splash of ice cold water. Every time she heard it, she felt paralyzed, caught somewhere between hurt, fear, and anger as though she was facing down a mindless ravaging wild bear, that would sink its claws into anything and everything in its path.

Part of her wanted to shout back and call him every unspeakable word ever uttered in the English language. To hell with the consequences. Who cared if he slapped her right across the face, leaving a welt that would take weeks to heal? She could come up with another excuse to tell her friends. She had a Rolodex of them by now.

“I fell down when carrying packages down the stairs”

“You wouldn’t believe it, my nephew threw his toy right at my head!”

Anything that would deflect attention and make them forget. Whatever would make the prying stop. She’d come up with stories many times before. It would be no different.

Even though her life was completely different now, Darcy still felt the lingering ghost of her father haunting every step she made. After his funeral, Darcy changed her name to begin anew. She never wanted another man to call her by that name. Not ever.

“It was an extremely toxic family relationship,” her therapist had said.

Enmeshment. That’s what they call it. She had replaced her mother’s role in his life, and along with it, shouldered the immense sack of burdens that she dealt with every single day. It was too much for any young woman to endure, especially one balancing, work, school, Sunday school services, and all of the house’s errands and chores.

Darcy knew that things were different. That she was different. Still, she couldn’t help nervously touching her face as she packed her backpack. She stuffed her toiletries into a plastic baggy and then scrunched them down into the bag so she could fit an extra pair of trousers.

Her and Nick were going away for a whole week, the longest trip that they’d ever taken together. It was his idea, as a way to destress and decompress. It will help you forget everything that’s been happening, he said. It will just be us. Alone. With peace and tranquility in Upstate New York.

They were headed to a small town near Hunter Mountain, and from there, a couple of miles north to a small cabin that he had rented for five whole days. It was every girl’s fantasy on Instagram. To take cute photos and sip hot coco, while snowfall dances outside. So remote that you won’t even get a hint of a cell signal. No pesky work emails. No need to keep in touch with everyone, even if you wanted to.

The winters in New York City are wicked and cruel. They blow in through the city, pouring through the streets like an angry river of cool air. Darkness blankets the horizon starting at half past four, and before you know it, you’re walking home in Bushwick, Brooklyn and it feels like it’s midnight.

Yes, why not get away? Darcy thought to herself. This was the real test of the relationship. Would they actually be able to stand each other for that long. She laughed to herself thinking about the next morning’s news headlines.

“Local couple strangles one another during their first vacation.”

“Couples beware: trips longer than a few days WILL cause breakups.”

“Attention all couples. Local love birds stab themselves after a failed week vacation.”

Darcy was probably just getting herself up into a fret again. Thinking about the worst possible outcomes. Of course, she loved Nick and couldn’t wait to spend some quality time with him. Nick was such a dear, filling her days with light and laughter. He would always have a plan, and she just had to step into it.

Her memories are colored with jazz nights and festivals under the summer sun. Evenings filled with witty banter, wine, and feasting over cheese platters in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. On the weekend, Nick would invite Darcy out on the town, and even if she said no, he would still try again the weekend after. It was nice to be wanted for once, and not find yourself discarded shortly after. Ignored like some servant that a man shouts at. To be used for your body. To be loved for how you make someone else feel about their rotten self.

Still, deep down, there was an uneasiness that she couldn’t exactly explain. Nick made her smile, but part of her wondered if there were other sides to him. Sides that she might not know about yet.

A tinny chime broke the silence in the apartment. Darcy looked down at her wide-screen iPhone and picked it up.

“Hi Jen…” she said, into the speaker. “How are you.” 

Jen was Darcy’s best friend since college. They lived on the same floor sophomore year, and from holding each other’s hair back while puking on the toilet at multiple frat parties to throwing their caps in the air on graduation day, they had been through everything together.

Jen was the pretty type, with blonde hair, razor-sharp black eyeliner, long white fake nails, and a curvy body to match. But, she also had a rugged down to earth feel about her. The kind of girl that you can count on if you’re in a bind. She’ll stick up for you, even if you’re not around, and will go so far as to kick out the bar stool from underneath a boy if he’s mean to you. And, she won’t give no fucks about it. Ride or die. That’s what Darcy liked about her.

“MISSING YOU!” Jen yelled into the phone. “When do I get to see you again!?”

Jen had moved to Long Island with her fiancé, which seemed like a lightyears away from Darcy’s place in Washington Heights, a far up area of Manhattan. The little hole in the wall apartment that she never ever brought guests to. It was too small. Too dank, dark, and frankly sad. She much preferred to host dinner parties at Nick’s place in Upper West Side. There was more space, more open windows flooding the space with light, more of everything. Shiny, nice, modern kitchen appliances and a hardwood floor that wasn’t covered by dirty laundry or food and wine stains from late working nights spent typing away on her laptop.

“Soon, soon” said Darcy, laughing. “Maybe the weekend after next. I’m going Upstate with Nick, remember? “

“That’s right!” Jen grinned. “Make some babies together. I want to be an aunt by the end of the year.”

They call it baby rabies, and all of Darcy’s friends were getting it. She guessed that happened in your late 20s, when you’re through with your partying years. You’ve been on the Merri Go-Round a couple of times, and you gotta get off before you’re too damn old to pop out a couple of cute kiddies. It’s like musical chairs, but even though the music was slowing, Darcy was nowhere near that state of mind to sit down yet. In some ways, she felt like she was still discovering who she was, and more importantly, what she really wanted.

That’s what happens when you cram yourself down for so many years. You bottle up all those feelings, thoughts, and desires. It’s like you’re just trying to get by without stepping on any more toes. Only the path is so narrow. You find yourself walking on a tightrope over an endless ocean. There’s fog on both sides, and it’s nearly impossible to see. One false step, and you’ll plummet down to the icy depths below, forever forgotten as your screams are silenced by the water. There’s no rescuing a drowning man who’s all alone at sea.

“So, don’t hate me,” Jen continued, as she dug her hand into a bag of corn chips, “But I was at this party and mentioned your name to this art director. I know you don’t like to show your work, but this guy seemed legit and he was interested when I showed him your instagram.”

Darcy winced. She didn’t like it when other people talked up her work. It was nice, but it somehow felt invasive. As though someone was plugging their hand into your chest, ripping out your soul, and putting it on display for the world to see, judge, or laugh at.

“Thank you,” Darcy said politely. “I’ll see if he messages me.”

Jen could sometimes do that. Go over the boundaries a little bit. But Darcy knew that she only meant well.

“Great boo, I just wanna see you famous. You deserve it.”

It was evening by the time that Darcy finished talking with Jen and she finally had time to draw up a bath. Self-care. It was the new buzzword in every magazine, blog, and Instagram caption. You have to take care of yourself the way that no one else ever has. Take the time to allow yourself the luxurious experience of being alone.

Far up high on the 17th floor of a pre-war apartment building, there sat a lithe blond girl in her mid 20s, gently bathing her thighs with rose-colored shampoo in a pink sea made frothy with bath salts. The flicker of candles surrounding the tub cast shadows on the age-old walls, filling the entire room with an amber glow. The distant sounds of the uptown 1 train floated into the apartment, and blended with the sweet notes of a jazz melody.

Darcy made a ripple in the water with her finger and smiled to herself. She could feel the edibles that Nick had given her start to kick in. There was a lightness to the room, like she had cast away her old, tired preconceptions of what it means to be alive. The way that a child might sneak away from a boring adult dinner conversation to venture out into the yard and play with his toys. She felt herself starting to laugh at nothing in particular. A high pitched, feminine laugh that would make any man’s head turn, searching for its source.

I really, really want some chocolate, Darcy thought to herself, sensing her mouth start to water. She wanted to indulge in one of those rich dark chocolate bars that were all wrapped up in gold foil – pure decadence. She hadn’t really allowed herself to let go in a while. To really let go of the need to control. What was she so afraid of?

Darcy ran her delicate fingers down her smooth skin, stopping at her thigh. Deep down, she knew that any man would be lucky to have her. She’d known that ever since she turned 12 and started to get looks even when she’d just be walking down to rent a movie for the evening with her father. She felt every man’s eyes on her body, crawling, invading, desperately wanting to see more. And while it felt uncomfortable, there was some part of her that did like it. The power that she felt, knowing that every man wanted her no matter where she want. It’s a whole different kind of high.

Nick was her prince charming, but sometimes, Darcy thought of other men. Especially at times like this. There was a ruggedness that Nick just didn’t have. And that was okay, but it didn’t stop her from imagining a pair of rough hands grabbing a fist-full of her hair, holding her tiny body still while a dark faced squared-jawed animal took her from behind.

Darcy let out a moan, allowing her fingers to explore between her legs, while she imagined his powerful grip holding her down, as he took her in whatever way he wanted.

Yes. That’s what she wanted. To be taken, needed, wanted, desired, so much that a man can’t take it any more.

To be — the buzzing of her phone interrupted the fantasy. Darcy peered at the screen to find a new text message from an unknown number.

“Hey… miss me?”

She frowned, took the phone in one hand and typed away at the keyboard. “Who is this?”

A little green bubbled popped up. He must not have an iPhone. Otherwise, it would be blue and she’d able to see him typing.

“A boy. Are you still cute?”

Darcy couldn’t help herself from smiling. The night just got more interesting.

She typed back, “That depends… on who this is?”

A new text bubble slide down the screen “I’ll give you a hint. I know that you have a tattoo on your inner left hip ;-).”

Darcy’s jaw fell open. Who was this? It couldn’t have been… from last summer? She had gone through a bit of a wild dating phase after her last breakup. This was before she met Nick, of course. Nick could never know about this side of her. He would judge her, or worse, control her, the way her ex Tom did.

Sometimes, Darcy liked being a bit of a bitch. It made her do things that left her feeling a tinge of guilt. Setting up dates and ghosting on guys, just because she could. Making out with one guy at the bar, only to be pulled into the arms of another minutes later. But, who cares. Guys did the exact same thing. She was just playing by their rules. Men suck. Everyone knows it.

Darcy picked up the phone and typed away, her white long nails tapping on the screen like little spiders. She read the message over a few times before pressing send.

A few minutes later, a photo came back onto the screen. It was a tall man with slicked back hair, a square jaw, and dark eyes. He looked European, maybe Slavic. His wool overcoat was pulled tight against a set of massive biceps, leading to a barrel chest that was put on display by a silky black v-neck t-shirt. He looked like he was carved out of a grey granite stone that had been roughed up by years of weather and falling rocks.

Damien.

She couldn’t believe it.

The last time that they exchanged words, she was headed out of his room after an evening romp, and he was headed to Seattle for some kind of business. He wasn’t from New York. He was just passing through. They spent one night together, and she had to admit, it was very memorable. Probably one of the best dates she had been on in her entire life.

Just the thought of it made her hands tingle and she could feel herself getting wet between her thighs.

Darcy shook her head. She didn’t want to think about that anymore.

“I have a boyfriend now,” Darcy typed out. “We’re actually headed Upstate for the weekend. Sorry.”

A second later, a new text came in.

“Oh yeah? Where abouts?”

Without thinking, she replied and then blowed out the candles surrounding the tub.

“Catskills. Near this one town, I think it’s called Bearsville.”

With a brisk motion, she swung her legs out of the tub, toweled herself dry, and padded along the bathroom floor towards the bedroom. She turned off her lights and struggled to plug the phone into the wall charger.

Another text came in.

“Oh yeah? Maybe I’ll be there. You can sneak away from your boyfriend.”

Darcy smiled. “Haha – very funny mister,” she typed. “Goodnight.”

With that, she slide her phone to airplane mode and let her head sink into the pillow. Slowly, she let herself fall into gentle slumber. Time slipped by her awareness, like sand falling through her delicate fingers. And moments later, she was asleep.