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AT FOUR O'CLOCK in the morning, Kelly was seated in a chair, staring out the window in a daze, her mind racing. Police Judiciaire?we need to talk?Tour Eiffel.. suicide note?Mark is dead?Mark is dead?Mark is dead. The words became a dirge pulsing through Kelly's brain.

She could see Mark's body tumbling down, down, down?She put her arms out to catch him just before he smashed against the sidewalk. Did you die because of me? Was it something I did?Advertisement

Something I didn't do? Something I said? Something I didn't say? I was asleep when you left, darling, and I didn't have a chance to say good-bye, to kiss you and tell you how much I love you.

I need you. I can't stand it without you, Kelly thought. Help me, Mark. Help me-the way you always helped me?She slumped back, remembering how it had been before Mark, in the awful early days.

KELLY HAD BEEN born in Philadelphia, the illegitimate daughter of Ethel Hackworth, a black maid who worked for one of the town's most prominent white families. The father of the family was a judge. Ethel was seventeen and beautiful, and Pete, the handsome, blond, twenty-year-old son of the Turner family, had been attracted to her. He had seduced her, and a month later Ethel learned she was pregnant.

When she told Pete, he said, "That's-that's wonderful." And he rushed into his father's den to tell him the bad news.

Judge Turner called Ethel into his den the next morning and said, "I won't have a whore working in this house. You're fired." With no money and no education or skills, Ethel had taken a job as a cleaning lady in an industrial building, working long hours to support her newborn daughter. In five years, Ethel had saved enough money to buy a run-down clapboard house that she turned into a boardinghouse for men. Ethel converted the rooms into a living room, a dining room, four small bedrooms, and a narrow little utility room that Kelly slept in.

From that time on, a series of men constantly arrived and left.

"These are your uncles," Ethel told her. "Don't bother them." Kelly was pleased that she had such a large family until she became old enough to realize that they were all strangers.

When Kelly was eight years old, she was asleep one night in her small, darkened bedroom when she was awakened by a guttural whisper: "Shhh! Don't make a sound." Kelly felt her nightgown being lifted, and before she could protest, one of her "uncles" was on top of her and his hand was over her mouth. Kelly could feel him forcibly spreading her legs. She tried to struggle, but he held her down. She felt his member tearing inside her body, and she was filled with excruciating pain. He was merciless, forcing himself inside her, going deeper and deeper, rubbing her skin raw. Kelly could feel her warm blood gushing out. She was silently screaming, afraid she would faint. She was trapped in the terrifying blackness of her room.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she felt him shudder and then withdraw.

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He whispered, "I'm leaving. But if you ever tell your mother about this, I'll come back and kill her." And he was gone.

The next week was almost unbearable. She was in misery all the time, but she treated her lacerated body as best she could until finally the pain subsided. She wanted to tell her mother what had happened, but she did not dare. If you ever tell your mother about this, I'll come back and kill her.

The incident had lasted only a few minutes, but those few minutes altered Kelly's life. She changed from a young girl who had dreamed of having a husband and children to someone who felt that she was tarnished and disgraced. She resolved that she would never let a man touch her again. Something else had changed in Kelly.

From that night on, she was afraid of the dark. pqdm.com