Rape

I lay silently for a few minutes, hoping and praying he wouldn’t return. It was only when I heard Dylan’s loud voice calling for me that I wiped the tears from my eyes and stood. I nearly cried out when a sharp pain shot through me, but I managed to stay quiet. A thin trickle of blood ran down my leg. I let loose a quiet sob and picked up my t-shirt that was lying not far from my feet. I wiped my legs down in an attempt to clean myself up and quickly pulled on my jeans, followed by my now bloody shirt. I guess it was a good thing it was black and not any other colour. I ran my hand through my hair and wiped my face. I practiced a smile, and let myself out of the Staff Room. The first person I saw was him. His eyes found mine and they shone with sick fulfilment. He began to make his way towards me when Dylan appeared in view.

“Hey, where the hell did you go?”
I glanced at the blonde, who smirked and winked at me, before I quickly turned back to Dylan with my fake smile plastered on my features. It felt so wrong on my face. “I was just trying on some jeans, but they didn’t fit right,” was my lame excuse. “Are you getting those?” I asked, pointing to the half dozen pairs of pants in my brother’s hand. He nodded and went over to the counter, where the blonde had moved to when he saw my brother approach.
“Thanks,” Dylan said after the transaction was complete, and grabbed his bags from the counter.

“No problem. Have a nice day now. You’re welcome back any time,” the sales assistant said directly to me through his smirk. I practically ran out the door as fast as I could with the pain I was in. Dylan followed, talking quietly to me about how strange that guy was. He had no idea.

We made our way to the hairdresser, much slower than we normally would have. I noticed Dylan watching me as I walked, and made a conscious effort to walk more normally. I couldn’t have him asking what was wrong. I’d break down and tell him what happened; I didn’t think I could handle reliving it again so soon.

I kept my smile on my face as the hairdresser asked how I thought Dylan’s hair should be done and as I watched them trim, colour and straighten it. I even smiled at the person who tapped me on the shoulder…before he told me that I should take his jacket to wrap around my waist, so that no-one would see the blood stain on the back of my jeans. I looked up at the man through teary eyes and thanked him in a quiet voice.

“You need to tell someone…” he said into my ear, before turning and walking out of the shop. I stood still watching his retreating figure, confused. How could he have known? I couldn’t understand why he was so nice to me either. I’d never seen him in my life.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Dylan’s voice came from behind me, startling me. I wiped my eyes in shock; I hadn’t realised I’d been crying.
“N-nothing,” I replied with a watery smile. “Hey, your hair looks great.”
“Thanks…” Dylan said, looking at me strangely, “Are you ready to go home?”
“Yes,” I whispered, and followed my brother out of the shopping mall.

I was silent on the way home and went straight to my bedroom as soon as I entered the house, not even bothering to wipe away the tears that were falling steadily down my cheeks. My mother tried to ask me what was wrong before I slammed and locked my bedroom door, but her questions went unheard. With wracking sobs, I threw the jacket from the kind man onto my bed. I ripped my t-shirt off my chest and let it drop to the floor. My jeans joined it a moment later. Naked, I crawled into my bed, wrapped myself up in the covers and cried myself to sleep. That day, I had started out with so much – happiness, comfort… my virginity. I came home with none of it.

***

Five months. I’ve kept what happened to me that day in the store secret from everyone for five months, and it’s starting to take its toll on me. I’ve started cracking, and I know people are noticing. My parents took me to a doctor about a month ago because I wasn’t sleeping. He gave me sleeping pills, and they’ve helped a bit – when I take them. I didn’t want to become dependent on the drugs because I saw what it did to my uncle Peter, who was forced to go to rehab four times for his addiction to all kinds of prescription drugs, and later died when I was 11. I didn’t want my family to go through all that again just because I couldn’t control my sleeping habits, and so I only take the pills when the nightmares get really bad.

Things with Kyle have changed too. I think he’s getting frustrated with me. Before…what happened, Kyle and I were getting, well…closer, I guess you could say. We’d been together for nearly a year before it happened. I think in most people’s worlds, it’s kind of expected that you’d be having an intimate physical relationship with a person after a year. Kyle and I were working towards that. I’d just gotten over my fear of being unclothed around him, almost ready to give myself to him completely. He had been more than ready for months even before it happened, but he was waiting for me. I’d even told him; “Soon. Not yet, but soon”.

He gets angry now when he starts to undress me and I have to tell him to stop. He’s started yelling at me, saying that I can’t expect him to wait around forever for me. It hurts when he says those things, but the terrible thing is, I know he’d understand if he knew what happened to me, but how can I tell him that I couldn’t give him the one thing I so desperately wanted to give him, because it was stolen from me before I was able to? I can’t, and I won’t tell him, or anyone else for that matter. It’s my secret, it’s my problem and I’m not going to let anyone else hurt over it. Especially Kyle and my brother.

Dylan keeps questioning me about why I’ve changed so much in such a short amount of time. He’s picked up on things I didn’t think anyone would. The other day be asked me where my favourite white jeans were; he hadn’t seen me wear them since the day we went shopping. I told him I just didn’t like them anymore. The truth? They’re on the floor of my closet.
Unwashed and unironed.

Dirty and defiled.

Like me.