The Brink of Destruction

It was twilight now, and the sparks from the bonfire showered skyward like the fireflies of hell. Outside on the quad a PA system had been hooked into a stereo, and it looked as if half the student body had gathered to celebrate our victory and the end of midterms. Inside the SAE house, though, Mike, Wynn, Billie and I had found a table in the commons room and were playing Quarters with some folks from Kilgo Quad we'd just met.

If you've never played Quarters, all you need to know is that it involves bouncing a quarter off a table into a cup of beer, and then choosing a person who has to chug the beer and catch the quarter in their teeth. Then the bouncer gets to go again until they miss, passing the turn to the next person, and round and round it goes.

Would you care to guess who was getting picked on the most? Anyone?

By the fifth round, I was getting fuzzy around the edges. By the tenth, I was having a hard time remembering everyone's names. By the fifteenth, sitting upright was becoming a challenge.
"Guysss," I stage-whispered, "you gotta ease up on me or I gotta quit playin' this game!" Mike chuckled, but Billie leaned over and murmured something in my ear. Following him down the hall, I stopped when he turned to me and wrapped his arms around me.

"Here's how you can get them back. Prop your elbow on the table, roll the quarter down your nose, and when you find the right angle, you'll be able to get it in just about every time. You'll be able to totally wail on them!"

I couldn't imagine being able to pull it off, but when we got back to the table and my turn finally came, I was stunned to find that it worked! One after another, I sank that damned quarter, and one after another, I pointed toward the people who had gotten me into the soggy state I was. Revenge was sweet!

All good things must come to an end, and finally I had to excuse myself to find the restroom. A few minutes later, I opened the door, only to walk right into Frat Boy coming down the hall. He was still visibly drunk, leaning against the wall for support as he walked.

"Hey, aren't you that singer's girlfriend?" he said thickly. "Listen, I'm sorry about what happened. I was just fuckin' around with 'im. I didn't mean any harm."

"That's between you and him," I said, pressing my back against the wall to try to slide past him without making contact.

"Yeah, yeah, no problem. But if you're looking for your friends, I saw them head down this way a minute ago. I think they went to Blake's room--he has a hookah, you know what I mean?"

I knew. I'd never smoked before, but I knew the guys did. I just hoped they didn't expect me to be able to join them in the condition I was in.

"Thanks," I said coolly. "I'll see if I can find them."

"Here, I'll show you which room they're in," he offered, his eyes watery and red. "No hard feelings, okay?"

"No problem." I wanted nothing to do with him, but maybe he realized what an ass he'd made of himself and wanted to make amends.

The hall was full of people in various states of intoxication, but the atmosphere was light and happy, and I was glad we'd decided to hang around after the show. We reached a door near the end of the hall, and the redhead stopped, his hand indicating that this was the place.

"They're in there," he said. "Don't worry about knocking."

I opened the door slowly, and was surprised to find no one inside. I turned to let him know he'd made a mistake, and found him standing less than an inch away from me, backing me into the room with his massive body.

"I'll go find them myself," I croaked, my throat suddenly tight and dry. "Thanks anyway." He didn't move aside. "If you'd just let me by--"

"I just want to talk to you for a minute, 'kay?" He reached behind him and pushed the door closed, turning the deadbolt.

"Open the door and let me out of here," I said, my voice as level as I could manage. I was sobering up fast.

"In a minute. I just wanna ask you why you're hanging around with a scumbag like him. Little punk, he can't do anything for you. He'll never be anything but a rag-ass piece of trash."

Every word that came out of his mouth was infuriating me, but he was so big, and so drunk. I tried to reason with him, hoping to catch him off guard.

"Look, a lot of people saw me come in here. If you'll just let me go, I won't make a big deal out of it."

He leered at me lecherously. "You know, I saw what you did out there. You got a nice set on you. Why don't you let me check those out?" His hands, big as hams, were reaching out toward my shirt buttons. My hands flew up instinctively to protect myself, but he caught my wrists and twisted them behind me painfully. He backed me toward the bed until the backs of my thighs hit the edge of the mattress.

Pushing me down roughly on the bed, he kept one hand under me to hold my arms. With the other, he reached down and began to unbutton and unzip my jeans, his beefy shoulder pressing on my chest and throat making it hard to breathe.

"All I have to do is scream and you're in a world of trouble," I croaked.

"And who do you think's gonna hear you over the music? Besides, they'd just think we were having a good time--and we will!" he said gruffly. As his stinking breath washed over my face, my heart sank as I realized he was right. There was little chance anyone would be down at this end of the hall to hear.

Now he was unzipping his own jeans, his hand over my mouth muffling my screams. I tried to bite the puffy flesh of his hand, but his other arm cocked back and he slapped me hard across the face. With my arms pinned underneath me, there was very little I could do.

"Gen!" I heard Billie's voice calling outside in the hall. "Gen, where are you? Did you get lost?" he was laughing.

As the redhead lifted himself to try to part my legs, I brought my knee up as hard as I could, forcing a groan from him. When he instinctively brought his hand down to cover his injured groin, I twisted my head to the side.

"Billie!" I screamed, as loudly as I could. "Help me, please!! I'm in the last room!" I managed to get one arm free, and pushed with all my strength against the boy's chest, rolling him sideways onto the mattress. I scrambled frantically out from under him as he slid onto the floor, but before I could get to the door, a hand grabbed my ankle and pulled me down onto the carpet.

"BILLIEEE!" I shrieked, as he forced his knee between mine again, this time holding my leg down with his foot.

"Gen, the door's locked!" he shouted. "I can't get in!" I heard two loud thumps, but the door refused to yield.

He was pulling my shirt open now, a thread of drool descending from his drooping lower lip onto my exposed chest. I was thrashing wildly, trying to scratch or hit or anything to hurt him, but I couldn't seem to make contact.

"You just shut up calling for that sewer rat, bitch. I'm gonna show you how a real man can make you feel." The words made me nauseous, and the touch of his hands on my skin was like torture. He was on top of me now, and I was pinned, helpless, immobile.

Suddenly there was an enormous crash and splintering of wood, and the door parted company with the frame, tilting crazily into the room. Billie leaped over the debris and was on the boy's back like a lion, his fists smashing into the side of his head over and over. Mike dropped the table they'd used as a battering ram, and ran to help Billie.

There was enough room for me to wriggle free, and I scrambled out from under the boy's sweaty body. Billie jumped free just in time for Mike to swing the desk chair down on his head, and his huge body sank limply onto the floor.

"Gen, are you alright? What did he do to you?" Billie panted. I was trying desperately to wrap my clothes back around me and fasten them. He gently took my hand and helped me to my feet. His eyes were flashing with anger, and now Wynn's frightened face appeared in the battered doorway, pale and shaken. Mike's hand rested on my shoulder as he peered anxiously into my face.

"I'm--I'm okay. Let's just get out of here."

"We'll get you home right now," Billie nodded, and he wrapped his arm around me protectively. As we stepped over the groaning body, I turned and spat right in his face.

"Billie was right--you are a motherfucker," I hissed. Then, as a parting shot, I pulled back my foot and kicked him as hard as I could, right in the ass. "Don't you ever think you're a better man than he is!"

**********************************

Mike and Wynn stayed until they were sure I was okay, offering hugs and hot chocolate. Finally, Mike suggested that Wynn come back to their apartment with him, leaving Billie and me alone in our room. I was really only shaken, but it had scared me badly, and Billie was lying beside me, holding me against his chest and stroking my hair.

"You're safe now, Gen. I'm here, and I won't let anything happen to you, not ever. I'll stay with you as long as you need me to."

I laughed a little, nervously. "Even if it means staying all night?" I was kidding, of course.

He looked earnestly into my eyes. "Even if it means all night." And so he cradled me against him, so that I could listen to that fierce heartbeat I had come to need so much, and he kept those strong arms around me so that nothing, not even bad dreams, could touch me.

The radio played softly, and we listened to the sounds of the people on the quad through the open window, fading slowly as the night turned into early morning. He pulled a blanket over us, kissed the top of my head, and began to sing, so softly that only I could hear him.

And true to his word, he stayed all night.