The Girl Who Cried Rape

I am not sure when I became so bitter, when I started to hate the world around me so but somewhere along the way it happened and looking back now it makes me sad, infinitely sad and heartbroken that after everything I have lost losing my former self still stings.

Initially after my attack I wasn’t bitter I suppose that part came when I saw the photos floating all over the internet and the posts on Facebook labelling me a slut and liar. Wait, I think I do know when I became so bitter, when I officially lost myself, it was a few days later when no one, including my best friend in the entire world wanted to hear my side of the story.

I hold my breath under the water in the bathtub I am currently floating in trying to drown my demons and in a part myself because what is left of myself I hate and drowning it seems the more effective route.

The music playing from the iPod dock is distorted like words under water and I start to feel dizzy, I want to stay here under the water forever, to never emerge and face the light of day but for some reason the pain in my lungs sends me spluttering to the surface where I gulp down hungry and greedy breaths of air not caring for a second that even now after everything that has happened I am still too afraid to simply end it all.

I want to stay under the water.

I want to stay under the bath water until everything drifts away. I want to stay under the water until my vision blurs and I lose consciousness, what happens from there is out of my control but I simply can’t put my mother through the pain of losing her only child and the added sting of finding my body so I keep my head above water watching the bubbles die and the water turn a murky grey with dirt and anger.

The buzzing of my phone brings me back to reality. I silence my thoughts for a moment staring at the phone on the edge of the basin sink my lungs aching wondering who the hell is texting me.
No one but my parents have my new number after having to switch numbers after the constant abuse. My parents thought I simply wanted a new phone for my birthday and were happy to oblige, they didn’t know the truth, they never will either, and my parents are downstairs no way they wouldn’t bang on the door to yell something to me rather than spend their credit.

‘Our windows face each other’ the text simply reads, I frown rereading it a few times to make sure I understand it correctly, to make sure I have read the right words. I have.

‘Who is this?’

‘Eric’ I almost smile as I read his name despite knowing I will cause him nothing but pain it is nice to know someone thought about me enough to actually send a text.

‘How did you get my number?’

’Does it matter?’ I know straight away from those words that the answer is not good, as much as I want to be able to forget about it and enjoy the fact that I am texting a potential friend I can’t. The answer is more important than even I can understand.

‘Yes’

‘It was written on the boy’s bathroom wall in the west end, with for a good time call Ryan. I took a guess it was yours.'

My breathing shallows out and I let my pruny body sink to the bottom of the tub letting water fill my lungs as I take desperate gasps of pain and hurting. I want nothing more than to die right here.

I want to drown and never have to deal with any of this again but my phone vibrates and I am suddenly desperate to know what else Eric has to say. I want to read the words that will finish me, the ones that will condemn as a whore and truth stealer so I reach with wet hands for the phone, rising from the water with a spluttering cough of exhaustion and water logged lungs.

‘I got rid of it’

‘Why?’ My fingers press send, before I really even realise I have written a response,

‘I like you Ryan, you seem cool and I really think it is time someone stood up for you’ Tears spring into my eyes without any hesitation the moment I finish reading the text and I hate it.

I wish they would just go away; I wish these words didn’t mean the world to me. I wish I didn’t want nothing more than to have Eric understand me and find out my accusations are not baseless lies.

Then I remember he believed them.

*

Friday night rolls around faster than I appreciate and with Friday night comes football, I can practically smell the sweet sweat of the players on the field from memory. I used to go to every football game with friends and cheer on players I believed were the good guys, every week our local high school players and an out of town team verse each other in a healthy game of competition.

I used to finish my Friday nights buzzed with friends after attending the after party either thrown in celebration or outrage depending on the outcome of the game. Back then I wasn’t a huge fan of the game but I always put on my best smile and cheered on the people I inevitably found out were the bad guys full of hate and destruction. Now the game and the field is a just a reminder of what happened to me and that I am nothing, absolutely nothing.

There is a crisp knock at my door and I know before the door opens who is there, it is my dad he has a distinct three tap knock. I turn down my music and open the door staring up at my dad who is dressed in a winters coat and jeans pulling a beanie on his bald head, I stare down at my pyjama bottoms and ratty old t-shirt wondering what the occasion is, it doesn’t dawn on me until he tells me.

“Come on Ryan” My dad says with a wide smile his big nose crinkling in affection, “We are going to the game” I freeze in pure and utter terror.

“What? Why?” I manage to choke out from my closing throat, my dad smiles as if the answer is obvious when I don’t put it together he finally responds;

“We are taking the new neighbours to their first local football game, can you believe their old town played basketball?” He punctuates this sentence with a soft punch to my shoulder, it feels like a hard right hook to the gut, and I almost double over in pain. My dad looks concerned for a moment,

“I don’t want to go”

“Ryan,” My dad says his concern increasing tenfold, “What’s wrong why don’t you want to go, are you not feeling well, is it that damn bug again. Andrea get up here Ryan isn’t feeling well” I stare at my dad and feel like shit for lying to him,

“No I’m not sick, just tired long day at school”

“Come on Ry, I think this could be good for you, get out of the house make some new friends… Eric seems like a nice boy” I don’t want to see my dad’s face of disappointment if I insist on not going so I put on my bravest face and smile as sweetly as I can.

“Maybe you are right dad”

“Atta girl!” He says with a blindingly white smile. I close my door softly when he leaves and fall to the floor wondering how I am going to get through the next three hours of pure torture. Just being near the scene of my crime is debilitating emotionally and physically but being there with Eric and my family who have no idea is enough to make me sick.

Fuck.

At the football game I try to hide in my jacket so no one will take any notice of me and leave me to my lonesome, Eric however will not accept that I want nothing more than to be alone. He keeps asking me pesky questions, “Who’s your favourite team?”

“Don’t have one”

“Why not”

“Don’t like football” I answer through gritted teeth, it is freezing cold and I am beyond paranoid that someone is going to see me and say something I can’t explain away in front of my parents.

“What is your problem?” Eric asks throwing his hands up exasperated with my attitude much like I am with his stupid questions.

I know he is just trying to get to know me but it is the last thing I want. After last night in the bathtub I know getting close to Eric is nothing but troublesome, it will just cause us both hurt down the line and I really don’t want to be hurt anymore but people I care for.

“I don’t want to be here”

“So you are a bitch to me?” Eric asks, I pause and look up at his face expecting to see blind rage and anger like I am used to but instead I see mild annoyance and something much more troubling, something akin to sadness, confusion grows within my chest and I wonder pathetically if I have hurt his feelings.

I swear that wasn’t my intention.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter not finding enjoyment in admitting that maybe just maybe I am wrong. “Wanna get a soda?” I ask desperate to escape from the half time show that is just starting, where they will no doubt notice me and make my life even more of a living hell.

I had tried to attend one football game after I was attacked, the players and cheerleaders made it clear I was not welcome. This is the first game I have attended since and since I arrived my hands have not stopped shaking.

“Sure” Eric says his face breaking into a smile, my parents pass me money as I squeeze past them on the stands, which I accept feeling the tiniest bit guilty for ditching them only half way through the game. As we exit the bleachers someone standing against them calls out,

“Go Eric!” I freeze, no matter how much I want to keep walking and ignore what is coming next I am stuck standing where I am and listen to what he says next feeling it penetrate my heart and soul breaking me further, something I was sure was no longer possible.

“Although I hear she charges,” I glance at the owner of the voice, a long haired boy I do not recognise, who has no right to hate me I know I have never done shit to him but that doesn’t matter in the hell that is high school, who throws a dollar bill at me feet with a sneer, “Get a handy on me” He tells Eric with a wide wink.

I feel bile rise in my throat, hot and burning my esophagus as it rises, I need to get out of here before I throw up all over mine and Eric’s shoes. I just need to get away, without thinking about where I am going I take off running.

I reach the parking lot and only pause because my legs ache with pain and my lungs threaten to explode. I bend at the waist and take deep calming breaths glad to be alone finally, although it feels awful crappy I enjoy it, if just to be alone and at peace with my thoughts.

My horribly angry and pitiful thoughts that are screaming at me to keep running, to get the hell out of town and disappear forever. I close my eyes and wait for my breathing to return to normal.

“Ryan” The voice penetrates my silent surroundings and my eyes open involuntarily and see Eric standing in front of me nowhere near as out of breath as I am watching me with careful and hesitant eyes and I want to cry because here it comes, here comes his hate and disgust and I don’t think I can take it, not from him, not here with my parents a few feet away.

“I’m sorry” I say even though up to this point I have done nothing but push Eric away, I wipe away a lone tear that has fallen from my eye.

“What was that back there?”

I shrug my shoulders as if the answer is simple when it really is anything but and sigh, a long deep sigh that leaves me out of breath,

“You really shouldn’t be seen with me Eric, they will just lump you into my status of outcast loser and you really don’t deserve that” It is the most honest as I have been in a while and I hope even if it does hurt he will accept my words, turn around and leave me alone.

“Ryan” Eric whispers taking a step forward, I take a step back out of habit, always trying to put space between me and whoever is stupid enough to stick around. I wish my body didn’t prickle from his closeness, I wish I didn’t feel faint and nauseous.

“Go away Eric,” I say turning away from him, I do not know why tears fall so heavily from my eyes as he does exactly what I tell him to do. All I know is he is gone and it hurts like hell.