When I Look at the Stars, I Feel Like Myself

I walk out to the front lobby of the hotel. Dalton was playing Twister with Stephan, and he looked like he was having fun. A lot of it. I would have joined in, but I didn't want to flash everyone. I can't expect Dalton to stay single forever, I remind myself. Besides, his and Stephan make such a cute couple.

I decide to take a walk, to clear my head. I look up to the sky, but see nothing. No stars out tonight, we're in the middle of a huge city.

“Hey, girl,” I hear to my right, “you sure are fine. Wanna head to my place for a party?”

“No, thanks. I'm heading to my own right now,” I say, trying to keep my voice strong. I doubt it worked though. This dude is absolutely terrifying.

“Sweet, can I tag along?” he says, stepping out in front of me, “I could use a good time,” His breath smells like liquor and stale cigarettes, “C'mon, sugar, let's skip that party and go on a ride of our own,”

I laugh in his face, something about his tone angering me, “Sugar?” I ask, still laughing meanly, “Say that one more time, and I will chop your balls off,”

“Feisty,” he growls, “You really are one fine piece of jailbait,” he 'compliments'.

“Leave me alone,” I assert, trying to push past him. But, this guy is built like a brick wall, so I just run into his chest.

His arms wrap around me and he starts dragging me off, “C'mon, sugar, let's find ourselves a room,”

I shout and thrash around, but his grip is too strong. I scream and cry for help and, funny thing is, we pass about twenty people who just keep walking.

He clamps a hand over my mouth, and holds a knife to my throat, “Stop screaming, bitch, or I will cut your throat,” he hisses in my ear, “Which will be a pity, since I won't get what I want,”

I swallow as hot tears run down my face. I nod, showing him that I'll be quiet, to see if he'll take his hand off my mouth so I can breathe.

“Please, “ I whimper when he takes his hand away, “I'll do anything else just don't... don't...” I can't even get the words out.

“Don't worry,” he soothes, “It will be over soon, just don't forget to put up a good fight,”

I cry, wishing I had never come here, never left the hotel, never went on tour, never started a band, never had the mom I do, never had a twin, or a dad, or anyone that cared about me.

Wishing I had never been born.

Light at the end of the tunnel? Not for me. It gets worse before it's all over? How bad will it get before something good happens? I'll probably die and go to heaven, and that will be my happy ending.

He shoves me onto the bed, the sheets old and worn. He straddles me, and I brace myself for his tongue to invade my mouth. I go numb, somehow by instinct.

“Fight back, you bitch,” he smacks me across the face.

I do, and I actually get a few good kicks in, but damn, he's way too strong for me.

When it's over, he drops my costume back on the bed, “You got the money for the room, right, I mean, that hag paid you a little something, didn't she?”

Hag? What is he talking about?

'I-I think you had the wrong girl,” I choke out.

“No, she pointed you out right to me,” he says harshly, “Don't call me stupid,”

“Wh-wh-who are y-you... talking ab-out?” I hiccup.

“I don't know, some little bitch. Says she'll be by later on for her next customer,” he says, striding out the door.

I don't know what to expect, but I will be waiting for whoever when they get back.

X

I cry as the memories take over my mind and body, “No!” I scream out loud, “Don't, stop, please, stop,”

This wasn't a few hours ago, this was when I was fourteen, my mom said her pimp could live with us.

“Stop!” I cry, sounding like I'm drowning, which I am, really. In my own tears and snot.

Seven times. He raped me seven times. By the third time, I learned to just go limp, and find a happy place. That's probably why I didn't remember all this until now. Then, after he thought I was ready, I guess, he let his 'customers' have me.

Jeff, that was his name. I'm sure my mom has a new 'boss' by now, but I can never forget him, can never forget what he did to me, now that I've remembered.

Seven other people in a week, a new one every day. Not to mention he would have his way with me a few times, too.

“Why aren't you moving?” I cry to myself, “Just fight back!” I scream.

But, when I look down at the girl from my memories, there's no life in her eyes. Nothing to see, nothing to feel from her eyes.

The door opens, and I wake from my fitful nightmare, to see the whore who just walked in with two sleazy men.

“Mom?” I ask in disbelief. My mom is an awful person, and an even more horrible parent, but, really? Paying me to have sex with nasty men?

“Elina!” she yelps, surprised to see me, “What are you still doing here?”

I say nothing, she deserves no words from me. I just sit and glare, hoping I'll make her conscience suddenly appear.

“Well, if you think you're getting your money, you're sadly mistaken. I didn't plan on paying you, I never did before,”

Never did before?

She did it. She was paid when I was raped all those times. I stand up, and walk out the door, I plan on never speaking to my mother again.

“Elina,” she grabs my arm on my way out, “Hold it right there, you're say sorry for taking up these two men's time. They paid for it,”

I glare at her, once more, before slapping her across the cheek.

“Shut up,” I spit at her, “And don't touch me,”

“What? You think you're better than me?” she yells angrily, “You're just as bad as me, whore. I saw you, you almost never fought back, unless they wanted it,”

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW?” I roar in her face, “You may have been watching, but you have no idea what was going through my head. I just wanted it to be over with faster, and if I fought, that would only prolong the inevitable. The always got their way, mother. Always have, always will,” I almost let out that I didn't want it to hurt, and when I fought, they usually just got angrier and rougher.

I didn't want to seem like a wimp. My mom's so loose you could fit Texas down there and still have room for Denmark.

“Elina,” she says softly, as if about to atone, placing a hand on my arm. Soft, and caring. But, I know better. She'll push the blame on me, only she'll do it in a way that will make me believe that it really is my fault. I've learned never to fall for that again.

“Didn't you hear me? Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me.” I hiss, “Save that for the men you're going to fuck.”

“You don't know me, Elina. I was just doing having some fun with these men. I'm on vacation, after all,” she explains, cocking a hip.

I look at the two men, standing awkwardly behind her, “Congrats, guys. This lay is free of charge,”

“Elina!” My mom scolds, “Don't talk to our guests that way,”

“Our guests? Your dates, mother. Just another one night stand, for you,”

“Yeah, well,” she starts, sounding very much like those preps in high school when they're trying to think of a comeback, “If you think I'm going to that party anymore, you can just forget it. And, who are you? Lina sucks wienah,” she says, “In more ways than one,”

I remember the first time anyone called me that. It was Erin, just teasing. But, it was the day after my first time with Jeff, and I cried myself to sleep because she didn't know how right she was.

I lower my voice to an angry whisper, and I get up in her face, “You'll never know who I am. I'll always be what you assume about me. The only things you've ever known have changed. I was seven the last time you knew me,” my voice lowers to hurt, as I walk out the door, “I was seven the last time you cared,”

I slowly head back to the hotel, hoping not to get stopped again. My mood lifts a little when I notice a car pass me, holding the two men my mom was with. They left not even two minutes after I did.

I'm glad I chased away a couple hundred.

I cry as I walk, the fight catching up to me. A sudden wind blows across my face, and I shiver, despite the fact that it's warm. I recognize this feeling. I'm scared. Scared of everything, everyone.

I hold my arms close, getting the chills. As I pass an alleyway, I see headlights flick on. The wind blows as I look towards the driver stepping out of his car.

“You okay?” he asks, and I notice the badge clipped to his breast pocket.

Cop. I could tell him, have him arrest my mother, but would he really believe me? How many mothers would sell their children?

“I don't know,” I answer, my voice breaking.

“Where you headed, I can give you a lift. It's better than walking around these parts,” he offers.

I nod, not trusting my voice to speak.

The car ride is silent, except for me giving him the name of the hotel I'm staying at.

“What are you doing staying at a hotel?” he asks, walking up to the lobby with me.

“M-my band's on t-tour...” I answer.

“Yeah? My daughter went to a concert a few days ago,” he says, “What band are you playing with?”

“My b-band You First is op-ening for... The Maine a-and All T-time Low,”

“Really” he replies thoughtfully, “She went to that one, came home talking about a new band she discovered. Her new favorite, as I recall.” He says, “You First, that's your band right?”

I nod. Normally, I would be happy to learn about a new fan, but under these circumstances, I don't think anything could cheer me up.

“Cool, I'll have to tell her I met you,” he says, “But... I won't say how. I don't want to ruin your reputation, or whatever,”

I nod, but I don't really cares what he tells his daughter. I doubt I'll be in the band, once they learn what I've done. How dirty I am.

No one will ever speak to me again, and I don't blame them. I wouldn't speak to me, either.

Sleep right now is almost impossible. I finally get to bed, but only to have it invaded by nightmares. I wake up, on the verge of screaming.

Can't wake up anyone else. The Alex will be pissed if he doesn't get his beauty sleep.

I open the bathroom door very quietly, and turn on the light.

Zack's

I walk up to the bathroom door where Elina just went, waking me from our shared bed, and pull a paper clip that was hanging off my keyring. I always knew that would come in handy. I pick the lock, took me a while, but I did it. Be proud of me, mom.

As I open the door, I expect to find her crying softly on the floor, possibly sleeping. That would have been a lost easier to handle than this.

When I turn around from closing the door quietly, I see her standing at the full-length mirror, in her underwear, pulling massive chunks of hair from her head.

I stare in horror as she continues, muttering angry things at herself in the mirror, “You are a whore. You're a whore for liking him. You're a whore for wanting him in bed with you,” she suddenly punches the mirror, and raises her voice, “Why would he love an ugly bitch like you?” she spat, with malice dripping in her tone.

She bends over to pick up a shard of glass, and my brain finally registers with my feet , and I run over to her. I grab her wrists, to prevent her from cutting her fingers on the glass shard she was picking up. Who knows what she was planning with that?

“What are you doing?” I ask her, voice stronger than it should have been. Her guard instantly shoots up.

She mumbles, “Nothing...”

“That didn't look like nothing, to me!” I snap, frustrated. She flinches, and I realize I sound just like her mom, from what I've heard of her. I sigh, “I'm sorry. I just want to know why. Why did you rip your hair out? Why did you call yourself all those names?” I ask gently, pulling her to my chest.

Her tears decorate my shirt as I stroke the top of her head, “Relax,” she says, “they were just extensions.”

I'll admit, I'm a little relieved. But... “Still, why did you pull them out?” I try.

She sighs, and stays quiet for a long time. While I wait, I pull her towards the beds, opening the bathroom door, to give her a place to sit while I clean her wound.

Her eyes widen and she stands her ground. I look back at her, “Please, don't” she whispers, “Please... please don't,” she cries, “Please,”

“Okay,” I say, and drop her hand. She thought I was pulling her to the bed for different reasons. Instead, I get the supplies from the first aid kit on the wall, and bring them to her, “Want to sit on the chair?” I nod towards it. Kind of hard to rape someone in a really skinny chair with unnecessarily high armrests. Not impossible, but really hard.

Not that I would rape her, or anything.

Unless she wants me to, then I would.

And I'm going to take my foot from my mouth right now.

She shakes her head, so I clean all the glass from her hand, and wrap it with gauze while standing.

While I'm occupied with this task, she begins to speak, “Hair extensions are fake. I don't like being fake,” she answers simply.

I'm done wrapping her hand, so I look up at her. She has this far away look in her eye. Her eyes are glossed over like she's not seeing or hearing anything around her, “Then why did you get them in the first place?” I ask, not in a mean way.

She sighs, and looks at the floor. Well, it looks like she's looking at it, “I got them to impress people,” she answers, “I took them out because I don't see the point anymore. Why should I try to impress people who take one look and think I'm repulsive?”

I place my hands on either side of her face, and pull her head up to look at me. She diverts her eyes, “Look at me,” I command, her deep brown eyes seem to stare into mine, with that same glossy look as before, “That's not true, Elina. You are beautiful. I don't know who told you you aren't, but they're liars,” I state, conviction I hope she can hear in my voice, “Even if it was only you,” I whisper.

Her hands loosely grip my wrists, and I realize the position we're in. Her lips part and she says my name softly, almost moans it. She's half naked and wants to kiss me.

Who am I to question The Fates?

I kiss her, but she pulls away. Maybe she didn't want to kiss me after all.

Elina's

“Zack could never love you, you're disgusting,” I say to my reflection, “No guy could ever love a slut like you,” I spit out, taking my shirt off and pulling my belly button ring out. Then my earrings, then my nose stud. Everything I got for the sake of attracting men is going. I take off my pants and wish I could erase it. That stupid symbol of love.

On the inside of my thigh, I have a tattoo of a small pink heart. I promised myself no guy I didn't trust would ever touch it. It was a reserved place, then. Now I feel dirty for thinking about a guy touching me there. Who would want to?

I scratch at it until it bleeds, but it's still there, practically smirking at me. I give a shriek of frustration and get off the floor.

I was going to get something sharp to gouge it out, but I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I caught sight of my disgusting naked body. I put my nose to the mirror, trying to find some sign of life in my eyes, but there is none. I have no fight left in me.

Then I notice them.

My extensions.

I didn't want to pull them out; I knew the value of my hair after working for 80 hours just to think about getting these done. Riley's the one that encouraged me to get them; she'll be sad to see them gone.

'No, she won't, she'll be happy if you rip all your hair out. With you standing next to her, she'll look like a Greek Goddess,” The Voice continues in my head, until I give in to its demands.

But even when I start pulling the chunks of hair out of my head, it continues until I'm chanting along with it, and our voices blend together and I can't tell who is who.

I punch the mirror in frustration, finding pain to be an outlet for The Voice.

It's gone, but not before it lets another sentence spill from my lips, “Why would he love an ugly bitch like you?”

I feel free, for a split-second. Then it comes back. It won't leave me alone.

I spot a shard of glass on the floor, and bend over to pick it up. The Voice won't stop until I'm dead. The only way to stop it is to ram this glass through my stomach until it comes out the other end, severing my spine. Or maybe I should go out like Erin did. I'll cut my throat open and slowly die like that. That way, The Voice can have its way and get the last word. After all, if I slit my throat, I can't talk back.

I feel hands holding firmly on my wrists, and hear another voice booming in my ears. It's like he's far away. So far away, that his voice barely reaches me, but is still so powerful. It takes me a second to register that the new voice asked me what I was doing.

“Nothing...” is always my answer to that when The Voice takes over. I can't hear what the new voice says next over the old one.

“Go ahead, whore,” it hisses in my ear, “Push him on the bed. It's right in the other room. Have your way with him, then leave. Just run in front of a train, for all anyone else cares. No one would miss you”

I flinch from the hurtful words my own head just said to me. The new voice suddenly softens, and I feel warmth surrounding me. My mouth moves, and I speak, but I seem so far away. The new voice says something else, but I still can't hear him over The Voice.

“Just crawl in a hole and die, slut. No one expects anything from you, why disappoint?” it hisses.

The person the new voice belongs to starts pulling me towards the bed.

“Now's your chance. Get him on the bed and take what you want,” Flooding memories of him reach my mind.

“Please, don't,” I cry to The Voice. I realize why The Voice is so familiar.

“It's okay, Li-Li, that's just what heart breakers do.”

“Please... please, don't,” I say again. He's the one who raped me. He's not just a voice in my head, he belonged to someone. The same person that hurt me all those years ago. I can't help but remember every detail about what he did to me. What he did to Erin. I'm not the main reason she killed herself, he is. He took away my innocence. He sold me to other men. I can't forgive him for that. I can't believe I forgot in the first place.

“Make him love you, then leave, it's just what sluts do. Whore,”

“Please,” I say once more. I guess I'm not a virgin like I thought just yesterday.

Suddenly, the hand left mine, leaving me alone and cold. I didn't want it to leave, without it, it's just me and The Voice. The far away voice asks me a yes or no question. I shake my head, I don't want anything but that warmth to come back.

I almost started crying, but the warmth came back. I was so happy, that something inside me answered the question from before.

“Slut, whore. No one will ever want to touch you because you're too nasty. You're too ugly. You're too dirty,” The Voice says to me.

I feel hands on either side of my face, and my ears slightly focus, long enough to catch, “Look at me.” So I flutter my eyelids up, and look towards the voice, and wait.

Suddenly, the new voice gets so much more clear in my head. I can understand what it's saying, “You are beautiful,” I can feel the warmth pulling me out of the darkness in my own head, pulling me out of the memories of my childhood. Saving me from The Voice,“I don't know who told you you weren't, but they're liars. Even if it was only you,” it finishes. By now, I'm so warm, I'm giddy. My eyes refocus, and I can clearly see the person who saved me from myself.

My mouth opens slightly, as I realize just who it is, “Zack...” I whisper. My Knight in Shining Armor. He kisses me, but I pull away. Not like this, not after what happened.

Somehow, I doubt he will ever get that kiss.