Free Nothing but Your Skin by Cathy Ytak

Shh, listen, there are people walking on the shore. They have dogs. Did you tell anyone? No, no one. They won’t find us, we’re too far from the edge. All I can hear is your heart echoing in my chest. I feel the sweat on our stomachs, and on your forehead, too.
    Shh, listen! All I’m listening to is the two of us, the ice crackling, and the water of the lake flowing far below. When we were rolling around, the wrapper from the condom got stuck on my bum. I don’t want to take it off. There’s not enough room to move in our sleeping bags, zipped together to make only one. They’re heavy sleeping bags for camping in the mountains, and you were right, they’re very warm.
    Listen, I hear voices and footsteps, and I can see the beams from their flashlights. It’s true, Matt, it seems like they’re getting close.
    You tell me that we have to hurry, that they can’t find us together like this, naked, that we have to get dressed. But I’m with you, I don’t want it to stop, and I don’t know where my sweater is. I took it off so quickly that I heard a rip. It might be torn. It’s blue, with a white stripe.
    Where did the moon go? Isn’t it shining on us anymore? Matt, what color do you think the moon is?
    The ice of the lake is beneath us, and above us is your voice, your voice that sounds anxious. Lou, they’re coming…Lou, shit! Hurry up! But I don’t know how to hurry up. When things happen too fast, I get confused.
    I hear them now. They’re crushing the frost under their feet. We’re trapped, lost in the middle of a frozen lake. We’ve been caught! Do they have guns?
    I slide my hand between my thighs to dry myself a bit before pulling up my pants, they’re tangled around one of my ankles, I don’t have time to…
    I hear my mother first, and behind her I hear dogs barking, and then two men, at least, yelling at us to get out of there, get out of there. But we don’t get out of there. We don’t get out of there fast enough. So they start kicking the sleeping bag. So I get scared. Don’t shake, don’t shake. Why, Matt, why? They don’t have the right. Your lips on my lips and your tongue in my mouth… Be quiet, don’t ask questions, don’t be scared, I’m here. You won’t say anything, I won’t say anything, it’s our story. They can’t take it away from us. Hands grab the sleeping bag and pull in every direction. They tear at everything. The dogs jump in; the sleeping bag rips and feathers come out. My mother screams like a mother and calls me my daughter . I hate her.
    They make us stand up and their hands pull us apart. They want to know what the hell we were doing, and what that bastard did. It’s my father’s voice and it’s you he’s talking about. He’s taller than you, he threatens you, he yells louder and louder, asking what you did to her, to his daughter, saying you’re despicable, you’re scum.
    I see my mother hunting through the ripped sleeping bag, she searches and searches and she finds a condom, used and tied up. She stands up under the almost-full moon and she points at you, yelling that you assaulted me. That’s what she says: “He assaulted her!”
    I see my mother pushing the men aside and walking toward you. She still wears that ring my father gave her on her little finger. She slaps you so hard that your head goes back, and you slip and fall on the ice. The ice shakes and echoes as if the whole lake was going to split in two. The ring hit your cheekbone and cut your skin. You struggle to get up, you have your hand on your cheek, you’re bleeding. In your eyes I see the fear, and I hear all the noise: the dogs barking, the men yelling, our beautiful silence shattered, dirtied. You assaulted— assaulted —me? And I don’t exist, I don’t exist anymore. They gave me a sweater but I’m cold. Blood is