You Can't Break My Heart If It's Already Made of Stone
Chapter 5
When I woke up, I was lying on the couch. My mom rushed to me when she saw me getting up, and hugged me, loosely as if she sort of forgot how to hug. “Are you alright?” I nodded, confused, until I remembered why I had blacked out.
My heart twisted, and I cried out in anguish. I glared at my dad, my eyes welling with tears. He grunted, “Sorry,” then went to get a coke. I got up and ran in front of him. I looked him in the eyes and screamed, “IT WAS ALL YOUR FAULT!” He walked past me, and I ran upstairs, never wanting to see my father’s hideous face again.
I ran upstairs despite my mother’s protests and slammed the door, locking it tight. I expected Brandi to come purring up beside me like she usually did, until I remembered she was outside on the street, being run over millions of times. The thought made me scream again, and I fell on to my bed, letting the darkness and sadness envelope me.
I know that days went by, I felt the time continue. But I don’t think I really woke up until February of tenth grade.
It was three days before Valentine’s Day, February 11. I was in the library, writing, when some kid I knew as Roger came and sat in the chair across from me. I don’t know why, but he sat there and said, “Hey. I’m Roger.”
I looked up at him suspiciously. “Okay… I’m Sarah. What was it you wanted?” Roger looked slightly taken aback, but kept talking.
“I’m in your art class, and I’ve been getting up the nerve to talk to you for a while now. Do you maybe want to go the, uh, Valentine’s Day dance with, um, me? Maybe?”
I rolled my eyes. “Nope. Dances aren’t my thing.”
Roger looked at the table for a minute before trying again. “Okay, well, that’s cool, because I don’t really like dances either. Why don’t you come over, and we could watch a movie or something?” I shrugged. He was coming on a little strong and desperate, but whatever. It was something. And something was better then nothing.
“Sure, whatever. I’ll be at your place on Friday night. Get a scary movie. I like scary movies.” With that, I turned on my heel and left the library.
Friday night rolled around and I prepared to go to Roger’s house. I prepared my clothes rope and locked my door, since my dad would never let me go. I tied the rope to the drain pipe and shimmied down, landing on the ground with a soft thud. I ran down my street and then walked the rest of the way to Roger’s house.
When I got there, we got settles on his couch and we started watching the movie. Roger’s parents weren’t there, and I could feel him relax. About half an hour in to the movie, Roger put his arm around me. I didn’t care. I let his arm hang there, letting him pretend it meant something.
A little later, I turned to sneak a peek at Roger. His long, blond, limp hair hung around his face and it was kind of greasy. His face was sprinkled with acne, and his lips were really chapped. I guess because I was looking at him, Roger thought I wanted to kiss him, so he leaned in with his chapped lips and planted a kiss on me. It didn’t feel like anything. It didn’t feel anything like David’s kisses. I blinked back a tear thinking about it.
Just when the movie got to the good part, Roger decided he wanted to start making out with me. We sat there, making out, Roger with his eyes closed, kissing forcefully, me with my eyes open, dull and expressionless.
After Roger stopped kissing me, he decided to turn off the movie, and he led me through a hallway to what looked to be his bedroom. I sighed, wondering if he wanted to do the same thing as David.
When we got to the bed Roger started taking off his clothes, then nodded to me as if telling me to take off mine. I obliged and slowly pulled off my shirt, then pants, until I was just in my bra and underwear. Roger pushed me down on the bed and started slowly unhooking my bra while kissing me. I think he thought he was being romantic or something.
I let my body go limp, not struggling, not helping. I just lay there, letting Roger take off my underwear and then do whatever he wanted.
When I woke up, Roger lay next to me, mouth open, snoring loudly. I got up, found my clothes, and got dressed. I checked my phone, which said 3:24 AM. I gulped. What if my parents had found out I was missing?
I tip-toed through Roger’s dark house until I got to the front door. I walked through my silent neighborhood until I reached my house. None of the lights were on, so I figured I could just use my key and go in through the front door. When I opened it, I let out a yelp as the alarm started blaring.
I muttered, “Shit,” and then darted to the little pad, punching in the numbers as quickly as I could. About 4 seconds later, the alarm had stopped, but I heard the creak of footsteps upstairs. My dad came rushing downstairs with my mom close behind, but they both stopped short when they saw me.
My dad glared at me. “What the hell are you doing down here?”
I looked at the floor, racing to come up with a lie. “Oh, I was just getting a glass of water.”
My mom looked at me suspiciously. “With your jacket on?”
I shrugged. “I was cold.”
My dad scowled. “Get back to bed. Everyone.” And then he turned and left with my mom, leaving me to get my drink then head upstairs.
I went upstairs to my room, jiggled the doorknob, and realized with a sigh that it was locked. I darted downstairs, out the back door, and to where the clothes rope dangled from the drain pipe outside my window. Good thing I had always gotten changed on the rope climbing days in gym, unlike the other girls.
I climbed up the rope with some effort, then finally got in to my room and pulled it in with me.
When I finally got in to bed, all of my emotions that had left me when I was with Roger came flooding back. The first thing that hit me was that Brandi wasn’t curled up next to me. When my heart felt that familiar surge of pain, my mouth responded with the usual whimper.
Then came the total exhaustion. I was tired and worn out. It was taking all my strength and power to keep my eyes open. But my next realization jolted me out of my sleepy state, as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on me.
I wasn’t a virgin anymore. I was impure, and I was only 15. I couldn’t hold it in anymore; loud sobs erupted from deep within me, and I cried all the tears that I had been holding in. I kept crying until my eyes ran dry and there were no tears left.
It wasn’t until about 4:30 when I finally fell asleep, eyes red and burning, face wet.
My heart twisted, and I cried out in anguish. I glared at my dad, my eyes welling with tears. He grunted, “Sorry,” then went to get a coke. I got up and ran in front of him. I looked him in the eyes and screamed, “IT WAS ALL YOUR FAULT!” He walked past me, and I ran upstairs, never wanting to see my father’s hideous face again.
I ran upstairs despite my mother’s protests and slammed the door, locking it tight. I expected Brandi to come purring up beside me like she usually did, until I remembered she was outside on the street, being run over millions of times. The thought made me scream again, and I fell on to my bed, letting the darkness and sadness envelope me.
I know that days went by, I felt the time continue. But I don’t think I really woke up until February of tenth grade.
It was three days before Valentine’s Day, February 11. I was in the library, writing, when some kid I knew as Roger came and sat in the chair across from me. I don’t know why, but he sat there and said, “Hey. I’m Roger.”
I looked up at him suspiciously. “Okay… I’m Sarah. What was it you wanted?” Roger looked slightly taken aback, but kept talking.
“I’m in your art class, and I’ve been getting up the nerve to talk to you for a while now. Do you maybe want to go the, uh, Valentine’s Day dance with, um, me? Maybe?”
I rolled my eyes. “Nope. Dances aren’t my thing.”
Roger looked at the table for a minute before trying again. “Okay, well, that’s cool, because I don’t really like dances either. Why don’t you come over, and we could watch a movie or something?” I shrugged. He was coming on a little strong and desperate, but whatever. It was something. And something was better then nothing.
“Sure, whatever. I’ll be at your place on Friday night. Get a scary movie. I like scary movies.” With that, I turned on my heel and left the library.
Friday night rolled around and I prepared to go to Roger’s house. I prepared my clothes rope and locked my door, since my dad would never let me go. I tied the rope to the drain pipe and shimmied down, landing on the ground with a soft thud. I ran down my street and then walked the rest of the way to Roger’s house.
When I got there, we got settles on his couch and we started watching the movie. Roger’s parents weren’t there, and I could feel him relax. About half an hour in to the movie, Roger put his arm around me. I didn’t care. I let his arm hang there, letting him pretend it meant something.
A little later, I turned to sneak a peek at Roger. His long, blond, limp hair hung around his face and it was kind of greasy. His face was sprinkled with acne, and his lips were really chapped. I guess because I was looking at him, Roger thought I wanted to kiss him, so he leaned in with his chapped lips and planted a kiss on me. It didn’t feel like anything. It didn’t feel anything like David’s kisses. I blinked back a tear thinking about it.
Just when the movie got to the good part, Roger decided he wanted to start making out with me. We sat there, making out, Roger with his eyes closed, kissing forcefully, me with my eyes open, dull and expressionless.
After Roger stopped kissing me, he decided to turn off the movie, and he led me through a hallway to what looked to be his bedroom. I sighed, wondering if he wanted to do the same thing as David.
When we got to the bed Roger started taking off his clothes, then nodded to me as if telling me to take off mine. I obliged and slowly pulled off my shirt, then pants, until I was just in my bra and underwear. Roger pushed me down on the bed and started slowly unhooking my bra while kissing me. I think he thought he was being romantic or something.
I let my body go limp, not struggling, not helping. I just lay there, letting Roger take off my underwear and then do whatever he wanted.
When I woke up, Roger lay next to me, mouth open, snoring loudly. I got up, found my clothes, and got dressed. I checked my phone, which said 3:24 AM. I gulped. What if my parents had found out I was missing?
I tip-toed through Roger’s dark house until I got to the front door. I walked through my silent neighborhood until I reached my house. None of the lights were on, so I figured I could just use my key and go in through the front door. When I opened it, I let out a yelp as the alarm started blaring.
I muttered, “Shit,” and then darted to the little pad, punching in the numbers as quickly as I could. About 4 seconds later, the alarm had stopped, but I heard the creak of footsteps upstairs. My dad came rushing downstairs with my mom close behind, but they both stopped short when they saw me.
My dad glared at me. “What the hell are you doing down here?”
I looked at the floor, racing to come up with a lie. “Oh, I was just getting a glass of water.”
My mom looked at me suspiciously. “With your jacket on?”
I shrugged. “I was cold.”
My dad scowled. “Get back to bed. Everyone.” And then he turned and left with my mom, leaving me to get my drink then head upstairs.
I went upstairs to my room, jiggled the doorknob, and realized with a sigh that it was locked. I darted downstairs, out the back door, and to where the clothes rope dangled from the drain pipe outside my window. Good thing I had always gotten changed on the rope climbing days in gym, unlike the other girls.
I climbed up the rope with some effort, then finally got in to my room and pulled it in with me.
When I finally got in to bed, all of my emotions that had left me when I was with Roger came flooding back. The first thing that hit me was that Brandi wasn’t curled up next to me. When my heart felt that familiar surge of pain, my mouth responded with the usual whimper.
Then came the total exhaustion. I was tired and worn out. It was taking all my strength and power to keep my eyes open. But my next realization jolted me out of my sleepy state, as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on me.
I wasn’t a virgin anymore. I was impure, and I was only 15. I couldn’t hold it in anymore; loud sobs erupted from deep within me, and I cried all the tears that I had been holding in. I kept crying until my eyes ran dry and there were no tears left.
It wasn’t until about 4:30 when I finally fell asleep, eyes red and burning, face wet.