Melissa Ren

Through the Tunnel

Content warning: child sexual abuse, allusions of sexualized violence throughout

The first time someone touches you between your legs, you recoil. A buried memory floats to the surface like a dead fish, belly side up, of the man who fondled you when you were only five. He was the older brother of your babysitter, you think. How old, you can’t recall. His name and face escape you, and you wonder how you can forget such a thing. 

Your face reddens with shame, and your almost-lover sits back into the driver’s seat. He asks you a question, but his voice muffles in your ears. His lips move in slow motion, curves and flat lines. A low monotone rumble bleeds from his mouth, like the sound of a music tape rotating at half speed. You piece it together: Did I do something wrong?

His words snip the stitches holding your heart together. You’ve asked yourself this same question, only your voice was small and innocent.

The overhead bridge casts a shadow over your date’s face. But his hands are ghostly white. You can barely see yourself in the darkness. The air feels sticky, as if hidden beneath the covers. 

Just like before.

The heat suffocates you, but you resist the urge to shrug off your coat. You sink into the seat that feels too big, like you’re a child trying on your mother’s shoes. You’re barely eighteen.

In the distance, the moonlight’s gleam catches your eye. You shove open the passenger door. The cool night fills your lungs, and you gasp as if emerging from underwater.

And you run through the tunnel.

Melissa Ren is a Chinese-Canadian writer whose narratives tend to explore the intersection between belonging and becoming. She is an editor at Tales & Feathers, Augur Magazine’s sibling publication of cozy speculative fiction. Her writing has appeared or forthcoming in Factor Four Magazine, MetaStellar, Solarpunk Magazine, Fusion Fragment, and elsewhere. Follow her on Twitter & Instagram at @melisfluous or find her online at linktr.ee/MelissaRen.