PART TWO
"Come on, then!" Yelled Paul from outside, "let's go, Legs!" Legs was a new nickname he had chosen for me. I liked it...but only, for some reason, when spoken by him.
"All right, all right! I'm coming!" I threw open the door and ran down the steps. Paul was waiting by his car, smiling.
It seemed like it had only been hours since I came into Paul's life, rather, he into mine. It had been a week. Time had literally flown. We jumped into his Aston Martin, and drove off to the park.
As the trees rushed past us on both sides, I leaned my head comfortably on Paul's shoulder. I could feel his smile as he gently rested his right hand on my head, and continued driving.
Once at the park, Paul opened the car door for me, and I stepped out. Paul had safely disguised himself behind a hat and large coat, and, he told me proudly, he probably wouldn't be recognized because fans never expected him to be out and about in a public place. I shrugged, and told him,
"Well, if you get mobbed, I'm not staying to help!" Paul smiled and punched me lightly.
"Oh, tough guy!" I taunted him, putting up my fists, "come on, let's see it!" Paul wrapped his arm under mine and started tickling me.
"AHH! No! Not fair!" I giggled hysterically. I had known him for all of a week, and already Paul knew that I was decidedly ticklish. I ran away from him, laughing, but he was taller, and had longer legs. He caught up to me quickly. But by then I had succeeded in giving myself a generous cramp, and I had slowed to a walk, so he did as well.
"That was some run you gave me," said Paul sarcastically, smirking.
"Can it." I retorted, and Paul started tickling me again.
"No!" I began laughing again, and backed up a few steps. Thud. I had walked right into a bench. I turned around. The bench looked startlingly familiar. Where had I seen it before? Memories rushed through my head. Back to a dark, terrifying night. I began to panic. This was the same park. Was the man still here? I turned back to face Paul again, but instead saw in front of myself a tall, bulky figure wearing a hat pulled down over his eyes. I watched as his hands started to reach out for my body...and I screamed.
"Paul! He's back! He's back!" I searched around wildly. In the distance, somewhere, I could hear Paul's voice, soothing me.
"Allegra...no one's here. It's just you and me...hush..." But I couldn't see Paul. My panic escalated to hysteria, and I straightened up sharply from my bent-over position. I did so too quickly, and stars exploded in front of my eyes. I fell down in a faint.
When I woke up, in what seemed like hours but must have been minutes later, I was back in the car and Paul was driving hazardously, hands clutched tight on the wheel. When he saw my eyes open his hands relaxed noticeably.
"Ah, Legs, I thought I had lost you there." He turned another corner.
"Paul, where are we going?"
"Somewhere."
"Paul, I'm sorry for that happening. It won't happen again, I promise."
"I know that you think so....but Allegra, I think something's wrong with you, and you need to have a check-up." I rolled my eyes.
"I'm fine, Paul. I promise. I just freaked out."
"You really thought that someone else was there with us. That's not just 'freaking out'."
"Well, what are we doing, then?"
"You're going to talk to someone."
"Cyn?"
"No, someone else."
"Who?"
"A doctor." I wrinkled my nose.
"A psychologist?"
"Yes." I started to laugh, just with the absurdity of it all.
"No. No way, Paul. Forget it." I moved to open the door, but Paul grabbed my wrist.
"You can't get out, Legs, the car is moving."
"Turn around."
"You have to see someone else."
"No." But then Paul stopped, and parked, the car. He got out, and opened the door on my side of the car.
"Come on, Allegra, get out."
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Fine, then." Paul reached inside the car and unbuckled my belt for me. He took my elbow with one hand, and pulled me bodily out of my seat.
"Paul, what are you doing?"
"Legs, you need to talk to someone." He was already dragging me inside. I was too confused to fight him. By the time I realized where we were, it was too late and we had entered into a third-floor office. Paul had made eye-contact with the secretary, and she pointed us into the next-door room. I was trying to pull away from Paul by now, but years of guitar had strengthened hi arms such that they were too strong to even come close to letting go of me. Paul pushed me into the room in front of him. I glanced fleetingly at his face. It was hard and stiff. He refused to meet my eyes. It seemed like he had turned against me. Had I really, only minutes before, wanted to kiss him? Now I was so angry that I could barely see straight. And I was as humiliated as I was mad.
"Please site down," said the doctor to me. He was an adult man, but looked not much older than Paul...maybe in his early thirties. I sat dumbly, silently, glaring at Paul, and then at the psychologist. Paul only looked away, his face falling into sadness. I could see the first tear falling down his face. I felt no remorse, only the same strong humiliation and anger for his deserting me. The doctor spoke up quietly. He had a stereo-typical, posh upper-class English accent, but it was quiet and gentle. Calm.
"So, Allegra, tell me why you're here." I all but snarled in disgust. "Fine then, I will tell you. A week or so ago, you were raped in London." I flinched, but said nothing. "You're from America, and you're sixteen years old. This young man found you alone in a park, and brought you to his house. Today, you went to the same park. And what did you see?"