Behind These Refuge Walls

My eyes radiated the desire to kill. Murder. Throw my hands around someone's neck and choke them to death. And when I wasn't surrounded by people, they gave birth to tears. I felt trapped, though the word seemed so trivial when associated to the real fact.

Paige was gathered with her gang of accomplices. They all laughed behind their hands at something she was telling them. Words like wasted, stupid, new girl slipped through her lips like venom dripping off a thorn. She casted me fleeting glances. Of course I knew she was talking about me, but I so desperately wanted to eavesdrop and perhaps catch the smallest of lines and maybe, just maybe remember something, anything - that was how far my despair reached.

To top it all, though, I felt sick again. Granted, the nausea hadn't entirely faded, but when my blood began boiling with anger, the mixture of feelings that resulted from it came with sickness and thus, me caving in the bathroom.

Several snickers reached my ears and although I dreaded my next move, I turned to look at Damien, his smirk reaching his ears and his neat polo shirt all too tight. He leaned against the lockers with his gang and what shocked me most was when I met Ryan's frown. He looked at me slightly amused, though behind that I thought I saw confusion at something I had done. He looked like he belong with those boys. At that particular moment, he radiated just as much arrogance as they did. Moreover, he looked like he could lead them all. That angered me most. The fact that I saw Ryan in a different environment other than our remote desks in Health class or even on the dance floor at his party - that part I did remember and somewhere inside, I had felt really good with him.

This wasn't the careless Ryan I knew. It felt odd to see him acting out in his universe. And then I recalled the various moments at the party - moments in which I had actually been sober. I saw Ryan work everyone around him. Ryan making his way through the parting crowd. Ryan flashing million dollar grins at those good for nothing sparkly tramps. Ryan in control of the party. Ryan being prom king.

Oh, dear Lord.

"Enjoyed your weekend, Charlie?" Damien questioned in a tone that gave off the impression that he knew something I didn't. And he was right about that.

I wouldn't show my anger to him. I didn't owe him that much satisfaction and he wasn't worth it. Of course, with those words I tried to foolishly convince myself, but failed.

"It was fantastic," I replied.

"I'll bet. You know, you should let loose more often. All the guys liked that little show you put on for us."

They snickered around him. Ryan rolled his eyes and shot Damien a cold look.

"I'm glad I didn't fail to deliver," I hissed.

The blonde boy's eyes met mine briefly, stepping beside his buddy.

"Alright, D, that's enough. Meet me outside."

Reluctantly, the polo obsessed jerk left with his friends, but not without shooting Ryan some knowing smirks. At that very point I hated Ryan more than I hated anyone else and figured it most definitely had not been him to take me home.

"You're friends with them?" I burst.

He shot me a frown. "I'm friends with everyone in this school. It might have escaped your eyes, but around here, everyone knows who I am, Charlie. Don't tell me you haven't seen all those people begging to come to my house."

"You're just so happy that you're one of the popular jackasses, aren't you?"

"Don't even go there! I had no interest in making you feel bad or anything! I invited you to my party because I wanted to. I sit next to you in class because I want to."

"Aren't I so privileged." I rolled my eyes and clenched my fists. Ryan no longer confused me. He made me angry. Because I couldn't understand him.

"So you're still coming tomorrow, right?"

I frowned - hoping that, by magic, I wouldn't shove my fist in his face. "Yeah," I snapped, "Yeah, I'll be there. I'll be the one screaming in pleasure when your opponent wipes the floor with you."

"Charlie, don't be like that." He stepped forward, casually looking at me. My blood froze. "You just got wasted at a party. What's the big deal? You were entertaining."

Wasted?! I wanted to scream at him. Wasted didn't imply being sick for two days in a row. I knew what wasted was.

I couldn't believe the words had come from him. I knew him to be a jerk, but not to that extent. And to think I had enjoyed being so close to him. I shook my head at him and let the words sink in. Entertaining. As in I had done something to please them. Something to make them all talk about it and shoot me lustful looks.

The bathroom door let a ear shattering noise when it slammed shut. I checked and double checked for other girls in the bathroom. But the classes had already started. I was alone. And alone was how I felt from all points of view. They found a way to shatter my confidence - and I doubt they even knew just how much damage they had caused. I always relied on my senses, on my presence of spirit and on my brain to keep me on top, ahead of things. But now they took all that away from me.

The screeching of my sneakers against the floor resonated throughout the empty hallways. The corners of my eyes stung and with each step I took, the less I wanted to go back to class. So I didn't. So I wandered, flashbacks of a party passing before my eyes and nausea taking in.

I was dancing - or at least tried to - against Damien. Or was it Ryan? His hands seemed to be all over me, but I couldn't push him off. Oddly enough, he seemed stronger than myself and I decided that I was no fighter to mess with him. I tripped and upon reaching the floor, I was hauled by a pair of strong arms.

"Charlie?" Jake struggled to keep me standing up straight, though he soon gave up on that thought and I felt like I had been disconnected from the ground. I couldn't tell precisely what happened, aside from the fact that the headache and nausea finally got the best of me. "Charlie, stay with me! Max, get the fucking car!"

And within the next moments I heard nothing else, as though I had fallen in a deep sleep. Then I fought with myself and I could faintly hear Jake talking on the phone.

"Jan, Max and I are at the hospital. Charlie. Calm down. First floor. Jan, I don't know. She just fucking collapsed!"

Then I leaned against Max's chubby frame and tried to make the nausea disappear. I felt numb, cold and sweating heavily.

"Dude, this is fucked up," I heard him say, though at the time couldn't process what was. "I'm telling you, they did something to her."

"Honey, lay down a bit."

With that, I collapsed on the pillow and all the wheels in my head stopped spinning as I fell in a semi-conscious state. I would wake up, look around, then feel the spasms again. Someone tugged at my arm and I was given pills.

"Charlie, come on, kiddo, wake up." An Irish accent. The more I thought about it, the sicker I felt.

I was given an injection - much to my horror - and the nausea started to fade. Somehow, I felt like I was getting my entire weight back on. Somewhere in my head, I was fuming. I was trembling with anger, so when I was fully awake again, I fought to stay like that. Sitting up, I heard various people arguing (maybe they were talking to me), but the only thing I could think was that I was not going to let this sickness take me down.

"Aye, doc, leave my fighter alone."

With that, the Irish man sat by my side and I regained my vision. The dizziness returned when I faced the people around my bed: Jake and Max (both with frowns), Janice (staring in shock) and a woman in a white coat with a professional look that told me she had seen others like me before. Gerry held my shoulders roughly with an 'I'm about to kill someone' stare.

"She's having moments of consciousness. Sweetheart, have you thrown up lately?" I nodded. "Does your head hurt?" A vicious nod, through which I inflicted more pain upon me. "I'm going to give you some medication that I want you to take. I need you to tell me when this started."

"Yesterday morning." Inevitably, Janice gasped and cursed under the weary eyes of the adults. I felt like doing so myself, but my jaws were clenched too tight to let any other word pass them.

"Alright, everyone out. Charlotte, is it? Darling, try to lay down for a bit, then grab your shirt and come outside."

The second she was out, I grabbed my t-shirt and threw it over my tank top. I downed the drink that had been shoved in my hands and let the silence take in. Sadly, the action reminded me too much of the night at the party.

"My guess is she ate or drunk something."

"Something?" a male voice inquired.

"She doesn't strike me as the type to do drugs, but...these symptoms are a clear sign of a light drug circulating these days at parties. Usually, the effects of it fade away rather quickly, but in Charlotte's case it was different. I have reasons to believe she might have taken a larger dose."

"What are...the side effects?"

"Well, it's quite obvious: intense nausea, headache, abdominal pain and sometimes temporary loss of memory."

Oh sweet Mary, mother of Jesus. My nostrils flared. Clenching my fists and taking a deep breath of air, I stood up. The room wasn't spinning anymore, the nausea had vanished, but the constant battering in my head remained. Revenge was all I wanted. Jake was the first to see me walk out of the room. He rushed to my side and offered himself as a crutch, but my pride flared and I barked out a refuse.

I couldn't listen to the doctor anymore. My ears developed some sort of wall because I couldn't hear them anymore. The furious thumping of my heart felt like some sort of sick drumbeat that fueled my anger. Janice shot me a fleeting glance and then I suddenly remembered our conversation at the café. I showed no indication that I wanted to talk. The day had already gotten longer than it should have.

"As I was saying," the doctor once again interrupted, "the drug seems to be wearing off with the medication we gave her." She cast me an inspecting look, to make sure she was right. "I do, however, recommend that you stay at home for at least two days, Charlotte."

"Charlie. And I don't need staying at home."

"Bollocks!" Gerry barked and faced me. I mimicked him and got ready for the wave of curses that would follow. "Bloody hell, Charlie! Those idiots got you drugged and ye can't even stand on yer feet!"

"Yes, I can!" I seethed. I became suddenly aware of the other people surrounding us and no longer wanted to carry this embarrassing conversation with him.

"Gerry's right," Max piped up, as if the situation wasn't bad enough as it was. Jake placed his hand on Max's shoulder, indicating him to shut his trap.

"We'll drop by later," he said, not giving me room to argue.

The ride home with Gerry was terribly silent. We were both fuming, though from different reasons. I wanted to get even with Damien for embarrassing me so badly, it almost hurt. Gerry was angry that I had been irresponsible. Psh! As if this was my fault.

Neither of us told the truth to Nate and we caved in the pathetic excuse that I had gotten in a bad fight at the gym. Nathan, being my brother, obviously didn't buy it, but didn't question it either. Yet. Gerry tried to be discrete about the medicine that I had to take. I tried to be discrete about taking it. And then I ushered him away and caught sight of my ghastly appearance in the mirror in my bathroom. I was pale and my usual imposing structure was hunched over.

I decided, before Jake even reached my house, that I was to stay home the next day and plan my vendetta thoroughly. And I did a shocking thing that night, too. I dialled my father's number.

"Hi, dad. Just calling to check when my car's going to be here."