The Girl Who Cried Rape

I haven’t been to a party since that night, since it happened. And I never really thought that I was missing out on stuff, teenage rituals, at least that was until now. Until I lay on my roof completely and utterly alone and wait for Eric to finish dancing with girls he has promised me he has no interest in and come lay with me.

But I know he probably won’t come lay with me because he is busy with girls who aren’t emotionally damaged and don’t cry when they kiss. And I wish with so much ferocity I was one of those girls, one of the carefree girls but I am not. And can’t Eric accept that? I feel guilty for thinking this because Eric has not once shown me any behaviour to indicate that he doesn’t accept me for me. But I think there is something lurking between the surface that tells him having a relationship shouldn’t be this hard.

But it is.

Being with Eric is hard, but it is also so wonderful in a way I can’t fully comprehend or explain. I wish Eric were here so I could ask him about it, ask him how he feels for me but he is gone and I am alone with the stars. I want to cry into the night sky every thought I am feeling but I don’t. My parents might hear and bump up my sessions with Petunia.

I think I might be doing okay, for once. Not great or even good but okay and that seems like enough, enough to survive on, live on and maybe even be happy with. But I can’t, despite how good or okay I feel I still feel that underlying sadness and freight, scared that everyone, including Eric, will hurt me the way Seth and his meat head friends did. So now I am unsure whether okay is enough to live on.

I am waiting on the boy I think I really like, maybe even love, who is probably not even thinking about me. I never really considered the fact that I was missing out by not going to the parties with Eric, but tonight, knowing I wasn’t invited, I feel like I am missing out on something monumental and pivotal to my teenage existence.

And I wonder what that might be, I don’t get the chance to think hard because a car is pulling into Eric’s driveway and my throat catches. I don’t want him to see me out here, obviously waiting for him to come back. It seems so pathetic and I feel pathetic enough without having to add that to the list. So I suck in my breath and hold it until he goes inside, only than do I feel calm enough to let out my breath in a tremor. I close my eyes and think with a heavy heart of Eric and all he means to me. I feel confused and torn, a part of me is certain that Eric is wonderful and perfect and loving in every way that I need but another part of me is terrified, terrified he is like those boys the ones that hurt me.

“Hey stranger,” I jump visibly at Eric’s voice my heart leaping into my throat as I turn to stare at him, he leans against the cool tile and holds my hand.

I can smell the alcohol permeating off him in waves so strong it leaves me gasping for air. I know that smell, it is what they, those boys, smelt like the night they hurt me. I am suddenly terrified Eric is going to hurt me and betray me in a way only he can, and I don’t mean like those boys. I mean by not loving me back because I do, I think I love him. It might not be the perfect storybook way but it’s there creeping under the surface and permeating off me in waves like his stench.

And I suddenly want to tell Eric all of this and have him kiss and hold me until I feel like myself again, but I am not sure how long that would take and it is going to get light soon. So I hold my words tight against my heart and hope he can understand what I cannot tell him, not yet anyway.

“Hey,” I reply stroking my thumb across his smooth soft hand. I like how his hands fit mine, like they are meant to be together, and while that feels like a stupid and immature thought to have it also feels right. I can’t help but feel a small smile tug at my tired lips.

“I was thinking,” He is slurring slightly, yet he still sounds like Eric, my Eric and that is enough to calm the frantic beating of my heart. “I should throw a party, kind of like a we are together get used to it type thing,”

And I feel sad again, but this time for a completely different reason and that is because Eric hasn’t asked me to be his girlfriend, not officially anyway and I am suddenly sure that he never will. Again I feel like I am missing out on some pivotal moment to my teenage existence.

“Sure,” I tell him suddenly feeling tired. I want to crawl into bed and sleep but I don’t want to leave Eric, not when I have just gotten him back, not so quickly, so I will wait until my eyes are closing with sleep until I leave him and go back to my room, because he smells magical like jellybeans and love.

“So you’ll come? And dance with me?” I want to tell Eric I don’t dance because I was never really taught, but it seems stupid and childish so I hold it in like my words of love, but it is there under the surface waiting to be said.

And while I might not get Eric asking me out officially maybe I can cross a wild teenage party off my bucket list and maybe just maybe with Eric by my side I will dance and I will smile, and maybe just maybe I will have fun. I fall asleep that night with a smile on my lips. I used to think falling in love was about holding on, but I am starting to realise it is about letting go and I am just about ready to let go.