The Darkroom
Tags: Pain, Love, Metoo, Fiction Writing, Schools

The darkroom the most peaceful room in the school. The lights are off leaving a red glow to illuminate everything. The soft hum of the extractor fan, the light rush of water from the tap. The friendly scent of developer chemicals. Usually it’s just me and the darkroom so therapeutic.

But today it’s different today I’m not alone. I sit there in the complete darkness. I haven’t been scared of the dark since I was seven, yet my heart was beating out of my chest. His hand comes up to my face, I hold my breath and he pushes a curl of hair behind my ear. “I want to se your face.” The irony is so strong. He wants to see my face yet here we are in the pitch dark. Click. Click. Click. The musical noise fills the room hardly being able to reach my ears through the thick layer of nerves. “I’m going to take the pictures with my phone.”

“No, don’t please.” Him using a camera is fine but if he uses his phone he can keep the pictures. Now don’t get me wrong I’m fully clothed and I am in a pitch dark room. This photoshoot is for his photography coursework and nothing else. But still I don’t want him to use his phone.

“Why are you being so nervous?” He asks his voice low he comes closer to me our faces inches apart.

Turning away I go through the usual motions of being in the darkroom. I turn on the extractor fan, the red light, the tap, pull of the photo paper, pour out the chemicals. Just like if I was alone but I’m not. “You should probably go to print out those pictures. Do some work you know your book is basically empty. I’m gonna be here for a while.” I say it and instantly scold myself. It sounds weak and childish, like a question. Not like a strong statement like it should.

“Its fine. I will stay, I wanna watch you work.” He pulls out a chair in front of me and sits down. “Why won’t you leave. I need to breathe.” I smile and nod okay. No matter how much I want him to leave I don’t say anything. And I don’t know why.

This room is too small no matter how far away I go from him he’s still there. Right next to me. But I close my eyes and take. Breath, I have so much work to do so I can’t get distraced so I just start developing.

In my hands are the final pictures freshly exposed, undeveloped. A hand reaches out and grabs me. Dropping my picture I jump slightly. He’s been so quiet that I completely forgot he was here, he picks up my picture and holds it towards me. “I feel sick.” He whispers “I think I’m going to pass out.” I take the picture but he doesn’t let go, I look at him confused and he pulls me towards him. I think nothing of it, he’s going to pass out he needs me to keep him up.

Standing in front of him my body against him, I ask if he’s okay. Nodding he stands up, I never notice how short I am until somebody stands up right in front of me. “You should go, I only have one picture left and it’s probably the chemicals that are making you dizzy.” He shakes his head and I realise how close I’m standing to him. I step back and take the picture that is still in his hand.

I walk around the sink so I’m opposite him. Dropping my picture in the developer I begin to agitate it. The chemical washes over the blnk paper, shapes and shadows start to come through. Soft hands wrap themselves around me. I hold my breath, suddenly terrified. His lips tickle my neck as he speaks. “Is this okay?”

“No, let go of me. Don’t touch me like that let go!” I say nothing and he pulls away. I can breathe again and I’m softly trembling “Am I making you uncomfortable?” He asks his voice low, his voice worried. I shake my head but don’t speak since I don’t trust my voice. If I open my mouth what comes out may be a scream, instead of a whisper.

I turn around again to put my newly developed picture into the stop chemical. And he returns behind me. His soft touch traces circles of the back of my hand. I look at him crying smiling and go back to my work pulling away from him my breathing rapid. He brings me back hands resting on my waist thumbs rubbing my sides pulling me to his body whispering “You okay with this.” I shake my head so vigorously that my curls find themselves in his eye. Ripping through his cornea, blinding him. I nod and his lips come down to mine. I pull away again. ‘What am I doing’ I ask myself “Stop please. Please leave me alone. Don’t kiss me these lips aren’t for you.”

I try to continue with my work but his presence is distracting and I want the earth to swallow me whole right now. Better yet swallow him, because the darkroom is my sanctuary and he is ruining it. I want to be in his arms.

I rest on the opposite side of the sink and at look into his eyes terrified deeply. Slowly he walks around the sink and stands behind me. So close I can feel every inch of him, I blink back tears but then urge myslef to relax. It doesn’t work. His hands are now on my shirt buttons playing with them, stop I’m breathing quick now, but I need to stop. “Listen.” I tell myself. “This is normal. This is what they expect you to, your ex-boyfriend made you do so much more and you loved him. So suck it up, people expect you to be a slut. So stop crying about it and do what your supposed to.”

. I turn to face him I finger his buttons too. Then one comes off them two then three and my hand is on his stomach his lips on mine his hand on my waist and suddenly I hate him. Hate him more than I’ve ever hated anybody in my entire life yet I know I shouldn’t because if I told him to stop he would. So don’t play the victim, you’re not being assaulted. You’re being loved. I clear my head and just do what I need to do, lips moving, hands exploring and I am in hell. I am in heaven.

He pulls back and looks into my eyes, he sees it then. The fear, the panic, the hatred. The tears I am trying so hard to supress. “I’m so sorry. But I asked, you should’ve…” He’s speaking fast now, worried that I’ll tell someone something I shouldn’t. And I hate him so much, I’ve never hated anyone more than him. But I know I shouldn’t. If I said stop he would’ve. So I have no right to hate him. His panic is interrupted by knocking. Once, again, and again. I don’t say anything because I still don’t trust my voice. I may still scream. The knocking continues. “We’re coming.” He shouts while buttoning up his shirt.

I take the picture and start scrubbing it. I look down at the picture there stands two people. My models, the boy in the picture has arm around a beautiful girl they smile and it’s real. Not forged, not forced, not pained. He looks straight at me and I hate him too. I rush to turn off the light -careless with my wet fingers — and we’re momentarily returned to darkness, I turn off the rush of water from the tap. Off goes the soft hum of the extractor fan. On comes the lights blinding is with reality because I can’t hide myself now I don’t look at him. I pull open the door and rush out the darkroom past the girl standing in front of me. You will tell no body what happened in there because it wasn’t his fault it was yours.