A Lacy Pink Thong
“Are you sure you’re going
to be okay?”
“Yes Mom.” You say as you
hug your mother goodbye one last time before she slowly gets in the car and
drives away, leaving you outside your new home— the college dorms.
You slowly walk up the
steps, wiping the last few tears out of your eyes; you don’t want all the other
girls to see that you’ve been crying. You finally reach the fourth floor, and
you walk down the hall, door after door, until you reach your room– 405. Taking
the key, you slip it in the lock and open the door. Turning it once to open it,
you immediately turn it back to lock it. “You can never be too careful.” You
say under your breath as you push the door open to your new home for the next
nine months.
“So, are you really excited
for school to start, I am. I love school. I think I would die without it.”
Your roommate begins as you step in the door.
“Sure.”
“You don’t sound very
excited. I think it’s exciting. It’s fantastic.”
“Whatever, look, I would
like to sit and chat, but I would really like to focus on getting my things
unpacked. I don’t mean to sound mean or anything, but it’s been a long day and
I just want to get things situated and then take a nap.” You irritatingly reply.
“Oh, okay, well I am going
to look around campus, so I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah sure.” As she walks
out the door, you look at all the boxes that lay before you. “Well, they aren’t
going to unpack themselves.” You say out loud and you begin to sort through all
your stuff to find the knickknacks you want to set on your shelves. Although
your hands were moving and rummaging through the boxes, your mind was on other
things, most of all, your roommate. “Why did I get stuck with the annoying
chatty-cathy?” you think as you grab hold of a picture of you and your
boyfriend. You glance at it, but then look at it a little harder, paying strict
attention to your features. You are quite short, 5'3"-5'4", average weight, you
have curly light red hair with sparkling blue eyes. Your boyfriend thinks
you’re gorgeous, while you on the other hand, feel you’re average, all the way
around. Your boyfriend is skinny, with dark shaggy hair and brown eyes. He’s
skinny, but well defined. You’ve been dating for a year and a half, and every
day has been wonderful. But, things got a little rough when you two were
deciding on colleges. You, being the intelligent student that you are, got a
large scholarship to Oregon State, while Marcus didn’t do as well academically,
and could only afford to go instate to the University of Idaho. Feeling guilty
about leaving him, you almost stayed, but both he and your mother told you to
go, that you shouldn’t sacrifice a great opportunity, just so you could stay at
a local college with Marcus. So you went. You packed up all of your things and
your mother drove you all the way from Challis, Idaho to Corvallis, Oregon. And
here you sit, reminiscing about the past, when you should be unpacking all of
your boxes.
“So, Rachel, what do you
like to do in your spare time?” you reluctantly ask your roommate out of pure
bordem.
“Oh, lots of things. I like
to read and study about new things, and go to church, and read the bible, and
sometimes, I watch R-rated movies.”
“So I take it you don’t
drink?”
“Heaven’s no! I would never
commit such a sin against the lord Jesus Christ. Why, do you?”
“Not very often, but on
occasion.”
“You could go to hell for
that.”
“No, I couldn’t, they drank
wine all the time, they even had it at the Last Supper. Don’t give me that
bullshit.”
“I don’t need to take this
abuse Kit. I’m leaving.” Rachel retorts as she storms out of the room.
“She’s not only chatty, but
also religious. Wonderful.” You groan as you turn back to the computer screen
and play another round of solitaire.
You go to class, every day
without fail. You excel at everything and it shows at midterms when you have
straight A’s across the board. You love school, you have a work-study job in
the theater department, which also happens to be your major, and so you enjoy
that immensely. You have made a few friends, but not too many. You are
sometimes too shy for your own good. But the friends you do have are good.
They are all theater majors and one even lives on your hall. Her name is Lily,
and she’s a slightly heavyset girl, just above average, with brown curly hair,
and brown eyes. She also has the sweetest disposition. She’s an Idaho native,
like yourself, so you two have quite a bit in common.
“I grew up on a potato farm
outside of Idaho Falls,” Lily snickers as she begins to tell you her life story.
“In Idaho Falls there wasn’t much to do, except be Mormon.” Laughter bursts out
of her mouth in one huge gust as she cracks up over her own joke. “Just
kidding, although there are a lot of Mormons there. But I stayed away from them
as much as possible. Unless they were drinking. They drank like fish, and it
was always a good time when you drank with the Mormons. You get ‘em all riled
up and they’d talk for hours about bein’ Mormon, even when you got up and left,
they just kept talkin’ away. I’d just sit there and laugh, and then go find
some guy to seduce to get some action at the end of the night if ya’ know what I
mean.” She winks at you and nudges you in the side. “That’s what you did in
Idaho Falls, you drank, all the time. There wasn’t much else to do. But I
acted. And I was good. So that’s why I’m here. ‘Cuz I worked my ass off on
stage and got here. Although, I still have a big ass.” She chuckles again. “
But what’s your story, morning glory?”
“Well, I grew up in Challis,
I rode horses a lot, I drank on occasion, I have a boyfriend . . . ”
“Really, is he well
endowed? Do you two have lots of wild nights of sex?”
“Lily! For Christ’s sake,
what kind of question is that?”
“Ah, come on, you’re a
freshman in college and still a…virgin?” she whispers.
“NO! I’m not a virgin
dammit. But Marcus is the only one, and it wasn’t too long ago that we first
started. I was never a huge fan of sex, and I’m still not too fond of
it.”
“Well, why the hell not? I
love sex. It’s great! If all I could do is have sex all day long, I’d do it.”
Lily proudly replies.
“You’re a fuckin’ nympho!”
“Sure am. Love every minute
of it too.” She smiles.
“Shouldn’t we be heading off
to class?” You ask.
“Yes, and now we’re gonna be
late because you were so chatty.”
“Me? You started it.
Besides, if you want chatty, go talk to my roommate.”
“I’d rather shoot myself.”
You both laugh and head for class.
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot,
you never told me Marcus’ ‘size’.”
“Lily!?! Fine. He’s very
well endowed. Are you happy now?”
“Yep.”
It was a lovely fall day,
and you decide to take your bike out for a nice ride in the sunshine. Unlocking
the bike from the bike rack, you lightly hop on the seat and begin your ride.
You pass all the academic buildings, with their similar red brick design,
through the middle of campus, going up and down the only hill around. As you
head to the northwest side of campus, you begin to feel surrounded by frats and
sororities. You were never really “into” the whole sorority scene, decided they
cared too much about image and being fake, and you’re too plain and real for
that in your eyes. As you peddle on down Greek Row, you notice frat guys
playing football outside on the lawn, and then you begin to hear the catcalls.
You ignore them, but begin to instinctively peddle a little faster down the
street. You finally make it out of campus and head downtown to a coffee shop
that a girl in one of your classes told you about. Remembering the incident
that just happened on Greek Row with the frat boys makes you remember the RA
warning given at the first hall meeting about frat parties and the
“buddy-system” . . .
“Frat parties can be a dangerous
place, especially for freshman,
because they are new and they don’t know anyone, or how to
behave ‘safely’ at these social functions. First of all, never go
alone. If you go alone, you’re an easy target, at the party or
coming from the party, by some drunk frat boy looking for a
piece. Which brings me to another point; if you do go with
someone, do not leave without them. And keep your eyes on
each other at all times! Don’t get separated! Going in groups
is much better than only two. Next, when you have a drink, and
you aren’t drinking it, put your hand over your cup. If you don’t,
there’s a possibility that a guy will slip something into your
drink,
and then you are screwed.” The first R.A. finishes and looks
around at everyone in the room, the seriousness of her face burns
in your brain, even now.
“We’re not trying to scare you off from going to frat parties,
because they can be fun, but you just have to use your head.
Rape doesn’t happen too much, but it does happen, and it usually
happens to freshmen. So you all need to do is be extremely careful,
because we don’t want this to happen to any of you.”
The second
R.A. finishes with a look of caring concern.
The same nervousness you
felt at that meeting you begin to feel again, but you push it aside because you
won’t be attending a frat party. You’ve already made that decision in your
mind. “I don’t really drink and I have a boyfriend I care too much about to
have him get angry over me going to a stupid frat party.” You say to yourself
as you spot the coffee shop and head toward it, feeling elated at the beautiful
day, the nice ride, and the clear decision in your mind.
“Hello?”
“Hello? Is Kit there?”
“This is her.”
“Hey beautiful, I didn’t
recognize your voice on the phone.” Marcus sweetly replies.
“Marcus! Hi. How are you
doing? I haven’t talk to you in such a long time. I’ve been so busy, I haven’t
had time to call, I’m so sorry. Do you forgive me?” You coyly ask.
“Of course. You do realize
that the phone line goes both ways? I could’ve called you sooner too, but I
also have been extremely busy. And I’m doing fine. I’m struggling a little
with math. They have a really stupid math system here. It’s called POLYA, and
its computer-based learning, with only one lecture a week. You know I’m not
very good at math anyway so it’s really hard now. But I manage. But enough of
me. Tell me how you are. I want to hear your sexy voice
“Oh Marcus, don’t make me
blush,” you giggle. “I’ve been good. I’ve made some good friends, and there’s
this really nice coffee shop downtown I go to all the time to study at. I have
to go through Greek Row, but although it made me nervous at first, I’m okay with
it now it doesn’t bother me. I haven’t been cast in a play yet, but I’m not
discouraged, I’m young, and will have many opportunities to be in plays. I just
hope I get a part in this next play, although it will prohibit me from coming
home over Thanksgiving, but I really want a part. We’ll see.”
“I don’t like you going
through Greek Row. I don’t trust those guys, even in the daylight. Is there
any other way you could get to the coffee shop without going down that street?”
Marcus questions, a concerned tone in his voice.
“There is, but it’s quite an
inconvenient route for me to take. Anyway, there’s nothing for you to worry
about. They aren’t gonna hurt me. It takes thirty seconds to ride on my bike
down the street. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You try to ease his
worries, but you can tell by the silence on the other line that it hasn’t
worked. You decide to change subjects. “Aren’t you excited to hear about the
play I could possibly get a part for?”
“You didn’t really tell me
about it.” Marcus dryly replies.
“Don’t sound so enthused.”
You curtly spat out.
“I’m sorry. What’s the play
about?” Marcus tries to sound interested, but you see right through it.
“Never mind. I don’t feel
like talking about it. I really have a lot to do, so I think we should go.”
“Don’t do this Kit. I’m
sorry. I miss you is all, and I don’t want you to get hurt. Please don’t go.”
“Marcus, you make me feel
completely helpless sometimes. You make me feel incapable of taking care of
myself. Do you really think I would put myself into a situation that would put
my life in danger?”
“No, I know you wouldn’t put
yourself into an obvious situation of danger, but sometimes there are times when
you think you’re safe, and you really aren’t. I just want you to be extra
careful with those situations. Because I care. I love you too much to see you
get hurt.”
“I love you too, and I
understand your concern, but you’ve got to be a little more trusting. I’m not
going to put myself into harm’s way. Give me a little credit here. I’m more
intelligent than that.”
“I know, I know. I trust
you, but I can worry can’t I? It shows I care.”
“I know it does Marcus, but
don’t care so much that you don’t trust my own judgment.”
“Ok sweets. So, what’s this
play about? Will you tell me now?” Marcus pleasantly questions.
“Ok, ok. Since you sound
like you are interested now, I will tell you.” You smile. “The play is Hamlet,
which you know, we read it in high school, and I really want the part of
Ophelia. I know I haven’t been cast yet, but the parts haven’t been me, I
haven’t had the hunger for the part like I do for this one. And the assistant
director says I have a lot of potential for this type of role, so I’m really
excited, I could really be in Hamlet!! I’ve always loved this play, and now I
could be acting my favorite part.”
“Kit, that’s great! I hope
you get the part. I’ll cross my fingers for ya.”
“Thank you. The only
problem is that if I get cast I can’t come home for Thanksgiving. I have to
stay here and rehearse.”
“Ah, that sucks. That means
I won’t get to see you until Christmas?”
“Pretty much.”
“How am I gonna survive
without your beautiful face, luscious skin, wonderful, wonderful you?” Marcus
poutingly replies.
“With pictures of me and
lots of masturbation.” You blurt out before going into a fit of laughter.
“What!?! Where the hell did
that come from?” Says Marcus, bewildered.
“Sorry........haha haha.........I’ve.........haha.........been
hangin’...........haha.........out with.......Lily.......hee hee.......way too
much. Hahahahaha. Sorry, whew, that was a good laugh. I’m just kidding. I
don’t know. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you. I’m gonna be so
lonely. But it will be worth it.”
“Will it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“No, tell me what? Do you
want me to sacrifice my chance just because you want me to come home? For one,
I don’t even have the part yet, and two, if I ditch out on this, I will lose all
credibility of a reliable actress, not to mention missing the biggest and most
important opportunity for me. Don’t you understand?” You immediately get
defensive.
“I understand, I understand,
calm down. Sorry, sorry for being selfish and wanting to see you, I guess that
was rash of me to miss you and want to see you. Sorry, it will never happen
again.” Marcus pouts.
“Stop it! I want to see you
too, trust me, but if I want this as a career, I need to show that I’m
committed. I miss you, I love you, but I need to think of my future too. Do
you understand?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I just
really, really miss you. It’s been tough.”
“I know, but we don’t even
know if I got the part. I haven’t even auditioned yet. If I don’t, well then I
will see you in two weeks. If I do, well, Christmas will come sooner than you
think, and then we can spend two whole weeks with each other, -k-?”
“Ok.” Marcus reluctantly
replies.
“Okay. Well, I need to get
stuff done, so I better go. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Bye sweets.”
“Bye sweets.”
Sitting in the cushy seats
of the theater, you feel like vomiting. “I’ve never been so nervous for a
part in my life.” You think to yourself as you wait for your turn to walk
on stage with your stage partner Elliot audition for the part. Since this is
your favorite play, you’ve already memorized almost every line. Chills run up
and down your spine as you think of the lines you are about to recite, and how
well you are going to nail it. You just hope Elliot is as well prepared as you,
but as you look over at him, your nervousness decreases, because he looks as
calm and collected as ever. There was never anything to worry about, Elliot has
already been cast into four smaller plays this semester, and so it was
surprising that he asked you to audition alongside of him, when you’d never been
cast at all. Maybe he had a hunch that you would shine in this play. You hoped
so. Trying to ease the nerves in your stomach, you begin to watch the actors on
stage, one of which is Lily, who is trying out for the part of Gertrude,
Hamlet’s mother. They finish and walk off stage.
“Elliot Schneider and Kit
Cole.” The director bellows out. You instantly start to sweat. You slowly
stand up and walk quickly to catch up to Elliot as he walks up onto the stage.
“Where is your script Miss
Cole?” The director sternly asks.
“I don’t need it. I have it
memorized.” You shyly reply.
“Hmmm.” The director
distractedly replies as he writes something down in his notes. “And which scene
are you two acting for me today?”
“Act four, Scene five,
starting on line 154 where Laertes . . . ” Elliot gets cut off by the director.
“Yes, I know that one, it
seems to be quite popular among the female actors.”
Your heart sinks a little.
But you push the feeling aside. “I’ll just have to show then that I’m the
best Ophelia, the right actress for the part.” You think as you compose
yourself and get ready to knock the directors socks off.
“Well anyway, let’s see how
you two interpret the scene.” The director grumbles as you walk offstage
and Elliot takes his place on
stage.
He begins: “How now, what noise is that?” You enter, a look of delirium on your
face as you look over at Elliot.
“O heat, dry up my
brains! tears seven times salt
Burn out the sense
and virtue of mine eye!
By heaven, thy
madness shall be paid with weight
Till our scale turn
the beam
O rose of May!
Dear maid, kind
sister, sweet Ophelia!
O heaven’s, is’t
possible a young maid’s wits
Should be as mortal
as an old man’s life?
Nature is fine in
love, and where ‘tis fine,
It sends some
precious instance of itself
After the thing it
loves.”
You begin to sing crazily, like a person
who has lost all rational mental thought.
“They bore him
barefaced to the bier,
Hey non nonny,
nonny, hey nonny,
And in his grave
rained many a tear’--
Fare you well, my
dove!”
“Hadst thou thy
wits and didst persuade revenge,
It could not move
thus.”
“You must sing,
‘A-down, a-down’ and you call him a down.
O how the wheel
becomes it! It is
the false steward,
that stole his master’s daughter.”
“This is nothing’s
more than matter.”
“There is rosemary,
that’s for remembrance;
pray you, love,
remember. And there is pansies, that’s for thoughts.”
You hand Elliot
imaginary flowers from the imaginary basket in your hand.
“A document in
madness, thoughts
and remembrance
fitted.”
“There’s fennel for
you, and columbines
There’s rue for you
and here’s some for me; we
may call it herb of
grace a’ Sundays. You may
wear your rue with
a difference. There’s a daisy. I
would give you some
violets, but they withered all
when father died.
They say ‘a made a good end–“ You begin to sing again,
“for bonny sweet
Robin is all my joy.”
“Thought and
afflictions, passion, hell itself,
She turns to favor
and to prettiness.”
You begin to sing
again,
“And will ‘a come
again?
And will a not come
again?
No, no, he is dead,
Go to thy
death-bed,
He will never come
again.
His beard was as
white as snow,
All flaxen was his
pole.
He is gone, he is
gone,
And we cast away
moan,
God ‘a’ mercy on
his soul!” You begin to talk again.
“And of all
Christian souls, I pray God. God buy you.” You turn and slowly exit.
“Do you see this O
God?” Elliot turns around, his signal that you’re done.
“Joel Sallis, and Leonard
Gilter.” The director shouts and summons with one hand for you to exit the
stage, while jotting down notes with the other hand. Feeling defeated by the
lack of response from the director you quickly move off the stage and head for
your bag.
“Miss Cole.” You hear a
voice from behind you that sounds distinctively like the director. You slowly
turn around and face him and begin to ask him “What?” when he interrupts you by
saying, “Nice work.” and turns back around. Bewildered by this statement you
pick up your bag of books and start to walk out the door.
“Holy shit!” You hear
Elliot say when you both are out of the room.
“What?” You ask with a hint
of irritation in your voice.
“You got the part!” he
excitingly replies.
“What!?! B.S.” You refute.
“No, really. I have dealt
with this director for three of the four plays I acted in, and he’s never said
anything to anyone during tryouts. For him to say ‘Nice work’ means that he
thinks you’re perfect for the part.”
“No way, I don’t believe
you.” You say unconvincingly, as a smile spills onto your face. “That would be
so great! It’s been my dream for forever to play Ophelia, and now I might!”
You happily exclaim.
“Look, if you don’t get the
part, you can personally punch me in the nose.” Elliot offers.
“You must really seriously
think he’s gonna give me the part. But I wouldn’t do that anyway, it’s mean.”
“Whatever. Hey, I gotta
run. I have lab soon, so I’ll talk to you later. Congrats!” Elliot says as he
runs off.
“Thanks.” You yell in his
direction. He turns, waves, and runs off.
The next day you get called
back for the play, and then three days later you find out you got the part! You
are Ophelia in Hamlet! And Lily is Gertrude. Elliot is Laertes. You all
decide to celebrate that night by going down to your favorite coffee shop and
listening to a jazz band that is scheduled for the evening. Since Elliot is the
only one with a car, he decided to drive to the coffee shop. The three of you
pile into his ‘98 Ford Focus and head through campus toward the coffee shop. On
the way, you pass through Greek Row, which is packed full of cars and people,
partying one last time before Thanksgiving break. It was madness. Girls
running around with almost no clothes on, while guys chased after them, beer
sloshing out of their keg cups, loud music rattling the windows of the car.
Beer being poured down beer bongs and shoved into the mouths of frat guys, the
beer pouring down their throats and out of their mouths. Other guys passed out
on the ground, lying in a pile of their own puke. It was only nine o’ clock on
a Wednesday night.
“This is ridiculous. And
you want to go to one of those Lily?” You ask, disgusted.
“Hell yes. It would be so
much fun. Dancing to ear piercing music, drinking beer, and jumping on some guy
at the end of the night, sure would.” Lily excitingly replies.
“I don’t understand it.”
You answer back.
“You need to be careful at
those parties though, ugly things can happen if you’re not careful.” Elliot
commented, a concerned look on his face.
“Yeah, yeah, we already got
the lecture from our RA’s. We don’t need it from you too.” Lily snottily
replies.
“You sound like my
boyfriend, cut it out.” You put in.
“Okay, I’ll drop it, but
don’t say I didn’t warn you. Now let’s get the hell out here. I’m sick of
looking at these assholes makin’ fools of themselves.” Elliot says as a guy
jumps off the roof of one of the frat houses onto a pile of mattresses below.
Elliot speeds up down the street as they head to the coffee shop. “I think
we’ll take the long way home and avoid Greek Row.” Elliot replies as they turn
onto Fifth St., leaving Greek Row behind them.
“Good I’m glad.” You say,
relieved.
“Hello?”
“Hi mom, it’s me Kit.”
“Hi honey. How are you
doing?”
“Good, good. Guess what?”
“You got the part?”
“Yes!!”
“Oh honey that’s great. I
guess we’ll have to eat turkey without you.”
“Looks like it. That’s okay
though. We always have Christmas.”
“Yes we will. So how’s
Marcus taking it?” Your mom questions.
“I haven’t told him yet. I
wanted to tell you and Jack first.”
“Oh, I wish your dad was
still alive to see you.”
“I know. I do too. But he
does, just not in the flesh.”
“I know. But your little
bro will be happy to hear you’re doing well.”
“Yeah, how is the little
jackass doin’ anyway?”
“Wild as ever. Made the
varsity basketball team, so he thinks he’s hot stuff for a sophomore.”
“I’m sure.”
“So are you gonna be okay by
yourself there?” Your mother asks, the regular concerned tone in her
voice.
“Yes mom. Lily is staying,
and so is Elliot, they are both in the play, so I’m not alone. Plus this will
give me an opportunity to get ahead in some of my classes. I’ll be fine. Don’t
worry.”
“I’m supposed to, it’s my
job.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure mom.”
“It is.” You mom gets an
irritated tone to her voice. It’s slight, but you still catch it, and decide to
back off.
“I know it is, and you do a
good job of it. But I need to get going. I still need to call Marcus.”
“Okay. I will call you on
Thanksgiving day, so you better be there.”
“K mom.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too mom.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.” You say as you hang
up the phone. You’re not especially looking forward to talking to Marcus,
because you don’t want to fight with him, but it’s something that needs to be
done. As you pick up the phone, there’s a knock on the door. “Hmmm . . . I
wonder who that is?” You think as you walk to the door.
“Hey Bitch, whatcha doin’?”
“I was just about to call
Marcus. What are ya doin’?”
“I thought about goin’ to
the movies and I didn’t feel like going alone. But if you need to call Marcus,
I won’t stand in your way.”
“Shut up Lily and let me get
my coat and purse. He can wait ‘til tomorrow.”
“That’s what I like to
hear.” She smirks.
“Yeah, yeah. So what movie
are we going to see?”
“A Beautiful Mind.”
“That doesn’t seem like your
kind of movie.”
“It really isn’t, but
Russell Crowe is pretty hot, so I’ll just watch him the whole time, and it will
be all right.”
“Okay, well, let’s go
then.” You tell her as you walk out the door, deciding that you’ll talk to
Marcus tomorrow, when you feel more up to it.
After the movie was over,
you and Lily decide to go to the Pita Pit, and get something to eat before
heading back to the dorms. After ordering, you two sit down and wait for your
pitas.
“So have you told him yet?”
Lily begins.
“Told who what?” You ask,
confused.
“Told Marcus about getting
the part, dipshit?”
“Hey! I didn’t know who you
were talking about.” You begin to get defensive.
“Well who else would I be
talking about.” Lily refutes.
“Oh, I don’t know. And no I
haven’t. That’s what I was about to do when you came by.”
“Oh I see. How do you think
he’s gonna take it?”
“Badly. He misses me, so
he’s gonna be disappointed when he finds out I’m not coming home.”
“What an asshole.”
“What are you talking
about?” You sternly ask.
“He should be happy for you,
not pissed and selfish because he won’t see you. He should have known it would
be tough living apart, and especially with your talent, he should expect these
things to happen.”
“You don’t understand.”
“What don’t I understand?”
“It’s not that he’s not
happy for me, he is really happy, he just misses me, that’s all.”
“Sure sounds like it.” Lily
sarcastically replies.
“Look, let’s drop it. You
don’t understand Marcus, and it’s really hard to get you to understand
him. So let’s change subjects.” You offer.
“Fine. What else do you
plan on doing over Thanksgiving break besides the play?”
“Ummm . . . getting ahead in
some of my classes.”
“Boring.”
“What? Fine. What are you
gonna do?”
“Probably the same thing. I
was just given’ ya shit.”
“You’re so good at it too.”
You say, a hint of sarcasm in your voice.
“I know, I know, you don’t
have to tell me.” Lily boldly replies.
“You’re so full of shit it’s
comin’ out your ears. Oh look our food’s coming.” You quickly say before Lily
has a chance to remark on your statement.
“Sweet, I’m starving!” Lily
exclaims. The guy sets down the tray and heads back to the counter. As he’s
out of ear shot, Lily says to you, “You’re just as full of shit as I am, you
just don’t think you are.” The statement was totally unexpected, and you
immediately start to giggle out of surprise. Lily starts to giggle too, which
then turns to laughter, and before you know it, the two of you are rolling in
your chairs hysterical with laughter. When you two finally stop, tears are
streaming down your faces. You wipe them away, and proceed to eat your pitas.
The two of you finally get
home around eleven o’ clock, and you’re exhausted and ready to sleep. But when
you get in the door, you see a message on the board that says, “Call Marcus as
soon as you get in, time doesn’t matter, he’ll be expecting your call.”
“Dammit.” You say under
your breath, because you know he won’t be in good spirits, and will ruin the
good mood you’re in. “Well I better give him a call, and get this over with.”
You say as you pick up the phone and calling card dialing all the numbers to
call him. The phone rings once before it gets picked up, and you hear an angry
“Hello?” on the other line.
“Marcus?” You ask,
immediately on the defense.
“Why haven’t you called
yet? You said you were going to call. I’ve been worried sick!”
“Ahhh!” You irritatingly
spat out. “Marcus. I have a life, which doesn’t involve calling you every five
minutes to let you know I’m safe. I went to the movies and then got something
to eat with Lily. We just got back. I had a good time. Please don’t ruin that
with your antics.” Your face is flushed and hot to the touch, and if he goes on
with his same argument any longer, you will explode.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I jumped to
conclusions. I’ll try and stop doing that. I’m really sorry.”
“Good, I hope you do.” You
say, still a little angry. He must have sensed the anger building within you
and decided to back off. You’re glad he did. “Look, I know I was going to
call, but to tell you the truth, I really didn’t want to because I wasn’t ready
to deal with your disappointment when I told you that I’m not coming home for
Thanksgiving, and that I got the part I wanted.”
“Why would I be
disappointed, I’m happy you got the part, that’s great Kit.”
“Really, do you mean it,
what about the last conversation we had though?”
“Well, I won’t lie and say
I’m not a touch disappointed, but I would never get upset when something good
has happened for you. I want to share in your excitement. I just wish I could
be there to celebrate with you.”
“Well, I wish you could too,
and that’s really sweet that you are happy for me, even though it doesn’t
benefit you any because you won’t get to see me for another month.”
“Well, you can’t get
everything you want in life. And why wouldn’t I be happy for you, I love you,
and I only want the best things to happen to you. And I can handle another
month, it won’t kill me.”
“Ya sure?” A giggle
expounds from your lips.
“Yes of course, you silly
billy.” Marcus begins to laugh too, and the two of you sit there for a minute
or so, laughing at each other. You suddenly sense that it is late, and you have
early rehearsal, so you decide to cut it short with Marcus.
“Hey babe?”
“Yeah?”
“I hate to do this to ya,
but I really need to get to bed because I have an early rehearsal before my
classes. I’m really sorry. I will call you after you get home though, and we
can talk for a long time then, okay?” You sweetly ask.
“That’s fine. Get your
beauty rest so you can knock their socks off tomorrow at rehearsal. I will talk
to you when you call me then.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Bye sweets.”
“Bye sweets.” And you hang
up the phone. You begin to yawn and stretch, suddenly realizing how tired you
really are. It’s only eleven-thirty, but it’s been a long day, so you put your
PJ’s on, brush your teeth, comb your hair, and climb up onto the top bunk of the
bed, resting your head on your pillow, and wait for your mind to ease itself
into the surly depths of a hard slumber.
Time passes faster than the
wink of an eye. With rehearsal, homework, and the outings of you, Lily, and
Elliot, you suddenly find yourself with only two days of vacation left. “Where
has the time gone?” You think as you sit on your bed, reading through your
English paper one more time to make sure you have all the corrections made.
Suddenly you hear a knock on the door. “Lily.” You think to yourself as
you hop down from your top bunk and stroll to the door. Opening it, there she
stands, still in her penguin PJ pants and white T-shirt.
“What the hell are ya doin’?”
She asks, as she always does when you open the door, and find her standing
there.
“Working on my English
paper.”
“Why would you want to do a
thing like that?” She sarcastically asks.
“Because it’s due on the
first day back from break.” You surly reply.
“Your professor’s a
jackass. My English prof. gave us until Wednesday.”
“Oh well, I don’t have
anything else to do.” You shrug.
“I guess.”
“What are YOU doing?” You
ask, curious.
“I came to talk to you.”
“Obviously.”
“Well, there was something I
had been planning to talk to you since the beginning of break, but have
forgotten until now.”
“And that is?” You
question.
“Hold on, hold on, I’m
getting to it.” She says, slightly irritated.
“Okay, okay, go on then.”
“Well, ok . . . just listen
until I have finished my whole schpeal, -k-?” She looks at you and you shrug
and summon her to go on with what she has to say. “Okay, well . . . um . . . I
know that you don’t like drinking too much, but I haven’t drank all semester,
and I’m just dying to. And . . . right before break I heard that right after
break there’s this big frat party at the Sigma Nu’s. And all girls get in free
and we’ll be able to have free drinks too! There will be mixed drinks, Jell-O
shots, and beer. Even DJ Nookie will be there. It sounds like a really good
time. And I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. You don’t have to
drink, but I don’t want to go alone, you remember the RA speech. I would love
ya forever. You just have to be there with me and make sure I get home all
right. Be my babysitter, per say. I hate to do this to you, but I don’t know
of anyone else to ask. Please.” She looks at you, pleading with you with her
eyes.
“You know how I feel about
frat parties.” You begin.
“I know, I know. But we
don’t have to go for very long. Just long enough for me to get a little tipsy,
mack on a guy or two, and then we can leave.” She smiles and winks.
“And you know how Marcus
feels.”
“Weren’t you just telling me
how much it irritated you that Marcus is so overprotective and won’t even let
you wipe your ass without him knowing about it?” She refutes your point.
“Yes, but I was just
venting, I really don’t mind.”
“Bullshit.” She argues.
“I don’t want to argue with
you about him because we won’t agree. Next point: What happens if we get
separated and I can’t find you?”
“That won’t happen, I
promise.”
“How can you, you never know
what will happen until you actually get there.”
“Just trust me on this one.”
“Sure, sure.” You don’t
sound convinced.
“Look, it will be a good
time, I know it. You just gotta learn to live a little. If you don’t then
you’re going to regret it later. This is what college is for, to have fun. You
can’t just sit and watch it all fly by without you on its wing. College is
supposed to be the best time of your life, so let it be. Let yourself have fun
and be reckless just for one night. Is it really gonna kill ya?” Lily looks at
you. The words she said start to sink in and you really begin to think of how
much you’ll miss, and how much you’ve already missed because you were “careful”
and listened to your mother and Marcus. And it’s all bullshit. Lily was
right. You can’t do anything without Marcus lecturing you on how unsafe and
dangerous you’re being, and how much he worries about you. And the sad part is
that you haven’t done anything unsafe or dangerous. Well, maybe it is
time to do something reckless. Have some real fun for once. Get a
touch out of control, and not worry about the consequences.
“Okay, I’ll go. I’m gonna
have fun for once and not worry about the consequences.”
“Sweet! We are gonna have a
great time, you’ll see.” Lily convincingly replies.
“Good I hope so.” You say
back, a smile spreading across your face.
“One question: Are you gonna
tell Marcus?” She asks, a worried look on her face.
“Hell yes. And I don’t care
if he gets mad. It’s my time to have a little fun. Screw ‘m.” You say,
flustered.
“Right on. Well, I gotta go
watch some football, Packers vs. Steelers. Men in tight pants, yow. So I’ll
talk to you later. Good luck with Marcus.”
“Thanks. See you at
rehearsal.”
“Sure thing.” Lily replies
as she saunters back down the hall. Closing the door, you feel a twinge of
nervousness at the thought of telling Marcus, but you toss it aside, you need to
have fun in college, and not always worry about what Marcus thinks. Anyway,
it’s just one night, what could happen?
Thursday. After much
fretting and contemplating over what you were going to say to Marcus, you
resolve to finally call him up and get the call over with. You had to, Friday
was the party, and you promised yourself you would let Marcus know of your
plans, that it was your life and you could live it anyway you wanted. Picking
up the phone, you immediately set it back down. Laughing to yourself at the
silliness of your behavior, you re-pick up the phone and begin to dial all the
numbers that would connect you to Marcus. It starts ringing . . . once . . .
twice . . . three times . . . and you hope that he’s not home and the answering
machine will pick up your call, but all of a sudden you hear an out of breath,
“Hello?” It was Scott, Marcus’s roommate. You breathe a small sigh of relief
as you say, “Hey Scott, this is Kit, Marcus’s girlfriend? He isn’t there is
he?”
“No, he isn’t,” pause, “oh
wait, he just walked in right behind me. Lucky, I caught you, I just got back
from class, and heard the phone ringing.”
“So, that’s why you were out
of breath?” You ask, making conversation to ease the nervousness that is
overwhelming you.
“It sure was. Anyway, I
know you didn’t call to talk to me, so I will hand the phone over to Marcus, and
I’ll talk to you later Kit.”
“Thanks Scott.” You say
quickly, and wait for Scott to hand the phone to Marcus and hear him say, “Hey
baby.”
“Hello Marcus.” You say and
wish you could take the statement back. You wanted to act casually, but you
already screwed that up by calling him Marcus, he’ll know something’s up now.
“What’s up?”
“Why should anything be up,
can’t I call you just ‘cuz?” You defensively answer. “Shit, I’m fucking
this whole thing up.” You think, panicked.
“Well . . . usually when you
call me Marcus, you have something serious to talk about.” He caught you.
There’s nothing left to do but tell the truth. Lightly you start. “Oh, you
caught me, I do have something to talk about.”
“What is it Kit?” He asks,
concerned.
“Well . . . um . . . okay.
I’m going to a frat party with Lily tomorrow night.” You blurt out.
“What!?” He asks, instantly
pissed.
“You heard me.” You feed
off his anger with defiance.
“What the fuck is going on
in your head!” He exclaims, seething with anger.
“What the fuck’s going on in
your head! You’re not my boss, and you’re sure the fuck’s not my father.” You
were raging with anger.
“Kit come on. Don’t do
this. For one, you don’t normally drink and they’ll attack you with drinks
because of it. Plus, you’re with me, so why would you want to go put yourself
out for those asshole frat guys to feast on.” He seemed to be trying to calm
himself down a little and be rational, but his accusations just piss you off
even more.
“How dare you! How fuckin’
dare you. Put myself out?! Have them feast on me?! You treat me like I’m
three!! I can’t even wipe my ass without you thinking I’m gonna put myself in
harm’s way, or that I’m incompetent to make rational decisions. Well fuck you.
This is my life and I’ll live it any way I want, with or without your fuckin’
permission!” You were yelling now, the tears were on the brink of sprouting out
of your eyes, you were so angry with Marcus.
“Hold on a minute, hold on a
fucking minute . . . ” He started but you cut him off.
“No, you hold on a minute.
You’re lucky you even heard this. Because I love you SO MUCH, I decided to tell
you this. But I didn’t have to, Lily gave me a bit of advice, she said that
college is the best time of your life, and you have to live it up or you will
regret it later. Maybe you should take the same advice.” You weren’t yelling
anymore, but you were still angry.
“So what, are you saying I
should go to a sorority and flaunt myself out to the girls, is THAT how to live
it up? And Lily put you up to going to this party tomorrow, didn’t she that
bitch.”
“Don’t talk about my friends
that way, god dammit!”
“But she did didn’t she?”
He asks, the anger building in his voice.
“And what if she did? At
least she made me realize how much you control me, and that I should be the one
who determines my own destiny from now on.” You retort.
“Fine then. Fuck up your
life. Don’t listen to the one who cares for you more than anyone else on
earth.”
“What the fuck? First, you
would be talking about my mother, not you when you were talking about the person
who cares for me the most. And second, one party is going to fuck up my life?
Jesus Christ!” You spat out. “What the fuck is he talking about?” You
think to yourself.
“You’re such a spoiled brat
sometimes and so naive. Maybe if your dad would’ve been around a little longer,
then maybe you would have more discipline and understanding of when someone’s
trying to help.”
You gasp. “Fuck you. How
dare you talk about my father, you son of a bitch. Maybe if your father
would’ve stayed around long enough, he could’ve taught you how to treat a women
better.”
“Fuck off. You hypocrite.
Fuck you.”
“Fuck you.” And you
slam down the phone on the receiver. “What a son of a bitch. Fuck ‘m. I rule
my own destiny, and nothing’s stopping me from going to that party tomorrow,
nothing.” You angrily say out loud to yourself. Then you throw on your coat
and head outside for a nice long walk to clear your head before this evening’s
rehearsal.
You wake up extra early the
next morning to get ready for rehearsal, and to start prepping for the party
tonight. You take a shower, and then sit on the sink and shave your legs and
armpits. You wash your face extra well, and put on casual clothes, which
consists of black sweats and a white T-shirt, as you get ready to head to the
theater. Rummaging through your cupboards and fridge, you decide on a granola
bar, and blueberry yogurt for breakfast. As you sit and munch on the granola
bar and yogurt, you reflect on your fight with Marcus. A tinge of regret begins
to fill your mind but you push it aside with indignance. You have the right
to choose what you should or shouldn’t do with your life. Glancing at the clock
on the microwave you realize it’s time to head to rehearsal, so you slip on your
tennis shoes, put on a sweatshirt and hat, hiding you curly locks, and head for
rehearsal, deciding to run instead of walk because the brisk winter air is
stinging your eyes and nose. When you get to the theater, Lily is already
there, and comes over to you as you walk down the stage.
“Jesus, you’re a little
late. I figured you’d have already left, so I didn’t even bother stopping by.
Plus, I didn’t want to wake up Rachachrist.” You both bust up laughing.
“It’s okay. I was just
getting prepped for tonight.”
“So he agreed to you
going?” Lily inquires.
“Oh no. We had a huge
fight, and told each other to fuck off. But I’m still going.”
“Holy shit! I can’t believe
it! So what’s gonna happen now? Is it over? I mean between you two?” Lily
shockingly asks.
“Oh no. I don’t think so.
I’ll just give him a couple weeks to cool down and everything will go back to
normal.” You simply state.
“Are you kidding me? That’s
crazy. I can’t . . . ” Lily gets cut off by the director’s, “Let’s begin
everyone.” You and Lily head backstage and get ready to go on stage. “Let’s go
over Act 3, Scene 2 again.” The director bellows from the seat where he’s
sitting. “Okay, let’s begin.” You all go through that scene, and through other
various scenes that you personally are not in, until eight-thirty, when the
director decides that that’s enough for Friday, but that they will all be on
stage Sunday morning at nine o’ clock for an entire run through, since the play
is in a week and a half. Everyone files off the stage, and heads out of the
theater. You catch up with Lily and walk back to the dorms together since your
next class isn’t until ten-thirty and hers isn’t until eleven-thirty. “So, are
you excited about tonight?” Lily asks.
“Kind of. I’m also kinda
nervous and part of me feels real bad about even going because of Marcus.” You
reply, a hint of guilt in your voice.
“Don’t start Kit. Just
forget everything that happened yesterday and just focus on having a good time.
This is your night to be wild and crazy and just have fun, with no worries.”
Lily preaches.
“You’re right. That’s
exactly what I’ll do.” You boldly state as you two enter Buxton Hall and head
up the four flights of stairs to your rooms.
The day goes relatively fast
and before you know it, it’s six-thirty and Lily just called to let you know
that the two of you are going to head to the party at around eight-thirty, so
you should start getting ready now. And to also wear something sexy. “Yeah,
yeah.” You think to yourself as you stare at the clothes in your closet.
You begin to rummage through you clothes, and realize that you actually have
quite a few sexy outfits to choose from. Rachel has already left for home, a
weekly ritual, as did your sweet mates, so you have the whole area to yourself.
Picking out different shirts, pants, and skirts, you toss them on the chair to
then begin to decide which outfit will look best for the occasion. After
careful analysis of each item, and an hour’s worth of trying on the different
combinations, you finally decide on the fiery sparkly red spaghetti strap shirt,
which sticks to your body enough to show off your perfect hourglass figure,
although you still find yourself quite average. To go with the shirt you
decided on a dark denim skirt that cuts to a point at the knees, the denim
frayed at the bottom. As you look in the mirror at yourself, you wonder if the
outfit is too seductive, or if it will produce the wrong message about who you
really are. You almost start to take it off, but then you realize that is
something that Marcus would say. “Your dress is too provocative, go put
something else on.” His words ring in your head, and you realize suddenly,
that you always dress for him, not for yourself. So you stop pulling your shirt
off and put it back on. You look in the mirror again and look at your hair and
think, “What the hell am I gonna do with you?” You’ve always had
problems fixing your hair because of its curliness, so you just decide to wet it
down, gel it, and blow-dry it so it will have a natural look with soft silky
curls. After you finish blow-drying your hair, you proceed to put on your
make-up. You take out the foundation, unscrew the cap, put your finger on top
of the mouth of the bottle, and with a flick of your wrist, you have a glob of
foundation which you dot on your forehead, cheeks, chin, and nose, and by making
circular motions, you blend the foundation into your face, giving it a clean and
seamless look. Next is powder. You grab and open it, taking out the powder
puff, and swipe it across the powder three times, to gather enough powder on the
puff, and begin to apply it on your face. You start with your chin, sucking
your lips inward, so no powder hits them, then you move to your cheeks, the left
then the right, the nose is next, and lastly the forehead and eyelids. You
swipe the puff after each area, making sure the powder is well applied. After
the powder is applied, next is the eyeliner. Rummaging through your make-up
drawer, you find the shade you were looking for, shimmery ice blue. Taking it
out of the drawer, you take off the cap and hold down your eyelid with your
right hand. You apply the eyeliner with the left to the left, and vice versa
with the right. Then it’s eyeshadow. You pick a darker, navy blue to go along
with the eyeliner. You cover the navy blue with a sparkling white to make your
eyes shimmer. Then it’s mascara and lipstick. For lipstick, you choose a plum
to offset the lightness of your complexion making your lips stand out and become
more noticeable. Now your make-up is finished. You put on deodorant and for
perfume you put on “Heaven” from Victoria’s Secret that your brother got you
for Christmas last year. You slip on your black dress shoes, a few bucks and
your student ID in your pocket, and put on your black navy pea coat to keep you
warm, since it is winter. You slip your keys in your pocket and turn off all
the lights, except your vanity, so you can see when you get back tonight. You
open the door, and lightly shut it behind you as you walk down the hall toward
Lily’s room. As you knock on Lily’s door, you hear Def Leopard’s “Pour Some
Sugar On Me” seeping through the door. “Lily’s gotta get herself into the
dance groove before she even gets to the party.” You think as the door
suddenly pops open and there stands Lily, black leather pants, and a fiery,
shiny tight shirt.
“Wow, we match!” She yells
over the music. “Come in, I’m just about ready.”
“K.” You reply as you step
in her room. Looking around Lily’s room, you notice an amazing amount of guys’
pictures that have been ripped out of magazines and plastered on the walls.
Most of them are shirtless, showing their rippling muscles. Although you really
haven’t been in Lily’s room before, the sight that lies before your eyes really
doesn’t surprise you. “You’re such a sexual animal.” You snicker as you look
over at Lily who’s lavishly applying a flaming red lipstick to match her shirt.
“Yeah, I know, isn’t it
great?” She smirks. “Okay, I’m ready.” She says as she puts the cap back on
her lipstick and throws it back in the drawer. “Are you?” She asks, looking at
you fidget with the big black buttons on your pea coat. Looking up instantly,
you immediately reply, “Of course I am.”
“Good, lets get a move on.”
She distractedly says as she puts on her black leather coat. “Dressed to kill
and boys to molest, lets go.” She smiles at you as you snicker at her remark.
She shuts off all her lights, giving you the impression that she doesn’t plan on
coming home tonight, or that she doesn’t want the light to get in the way
of the stripping of clothes, and hot sex in her bed. She’s the only freshman
with a single room, and she wants to take full advantage of it. Well, who could
blame her? If it’s her prerogative, more power to her. She shuts and locks the
door, slipping the keys into her coat pocket as you two walk down the hall,
toward your first frat party.
As you step outside, the
wind and icy chill hits you like a brick wall, and you feel that your leg hair
has instantaneously grown an inch. You react by snuggling deeper into your
coat, instantly feeling glad that you brought it. “It’s fucking cold out here.
If I was to touch my nipples right now, I’m afraid they’d break off.” Lily
remarks as she tries to pull her leather jacket closer to her body to create
warmth.
“Let’s walk faster, so we
get there quicker, and get out of the wind.” You suggest.
“Good plan.” Lily responds
as you two pick up the pace and head toward the Sigma Nu house. After about ten
minutes, and walking clear across campus, you and Lily finally reach your
destination. Glancing from the outside, it didn’t look like there was much of a
party at all, at least not the type of party you witnessed before Thanksgiving
break. As you walk up the steps to the door, you see two guys standing there,
looking quite cold, one holding a clipboard, which was obviously the list of who
could or couldn’t enter the party. Proceeding to walk to the door, you and Lily
are blockaded by the two guys. “You two on the list?” The so-called “bouncer”
asks.
“What! We’re girls! That
automatically puts us on the list.” Lily complains.
“Not here it doesn’t. On the list or
not.” The other guy says, tapping his pen on the clipboard.
“Come on boys. You don’t
want to deny us two sweet, attractive girls from having a good time? Now do
you?” You purr.
“We have strict orders to
not let anyone in who’s not on the list.” The first guy informs.
“But do you always follow
the rules. That’s boring and unattractive. Do you want to be boring and
unattractive, or do you want to live dangerously?” You persuade.
“Dude, I don’t want to be
boring and unattractive, let’s let them in.” The second guy says to the first.
“Okay, okay, you can go in,
but if anyone asks, you were put on the list by Gary and John, that’s us.” The
First guy explains. “But we need your names, so there’s proof.”
“Kit Cole.” You reply.
“Lily Mahler.” Lily
answers.
“Sweet, k, you can go in
now.” Gary, the first guy points to the door. “And remember, Gary and John.”
“Ahh, thanks guys. Now you
can never say you’re boring and unattractive.” You smirk as you walk past John
and Gary and head in the door. As you get inside, you realize the atmosphere
drastically changes from inside to outside.
“Sweet, it’s gonna be pretty
good. Now lets get some drinks.” Lily remarks as she rubs her hands together
in delight.
“Okay.” You agree. Heading
toward the kitchen, your eye catches a guy, tall, with sandy blonde shaggy hair,
and dazzling blue eyes. He has a nice body, and you’re strangely attracted to
him. He notices you glancing at him, and tips his head back slightly and
quickly as a sign of “Hello,” and that he notices your stare. Slightly
embarrassed, you blush and smile in his direction as Lily suddenly tugs on your
arm to get you moving again.
“You can’t be looking at
boys, you’re taken.” Lily reminds you.
“I just noticed that he was
attractive, that’s all.” You refute her claim.
“Sure, sure. Keep your
clothes on tonight -k-? I don’t want to ‘ruin’ your perfect relationship with
Marcus.” Lily sarcastically remarks. “Actually, I think you should get down
and dirty tonight, because I think Marcus is a controlling asshole.”
“Lily, he is not. You
haven’t even met him. Please don’t make judgments about him.” You argue, a
tinge of irritation in your voice. It’s enough for Lily to notice.
“Okay, okay, don’t get so
testy. I was just making an observation based on the information you’ve given
me.” Lily explains, immediately changing the subject. “So do you want beer or
hard ‘A’?”
“Don’t change the subject on
me dammit.” You complain.
“Let’s not fight about this
right now, we’re at a party for Christ’s sake! We’ll talk about it later. Now
let’s forget the conversation ever happened and answer my question: beer of hard
‘A’?” Lily asks again.
“Hard ‘A’ I guess. I’ve
never been a big fan of beer.”
“Okay, but be careful with
it. You have to respect hard alcohol or it will get ‘cha. And since you don’t
drink much, you really have to watch your intake of it.”
“Yes mother.” You smirk.
“I’m just warnin’ ya.”
“I know, I’ll be fine. I’ll
only drink one or two rum and cokes.”
“K, just be careful. I
don’t want to have to take you to the hospital to have your stomach pumped
because of alcohol poisoning. Then Marcus would really hate my guts.”
“Oh please. I’m more
responsible than that.” You argue. You two finally reach the kitchen, and
observe the array of alcoholic choices available to the both of you.
“Sweet, Jell-O shots. You
have to be especially careful with those though. They get you fucked up fast
without you even realizing it.”
“I know, I’ve had them
before.” You irritatingly reply.
“Sorry. I don’t know what
you have or haven’t had before. Give me a break. I’m just looking out for your
well being.” Lily defends herself.
“I’m just saying that you
don’t have to treat me like an ignorant fool. I said I’ve drank occasionally, I
did not say I haven’t drank at all.”
“K, k, I get the point.”
Lily hurriedly replies.
“What can I get for you fine
ladies this evening?” The “bartender” for the night asks.
“Well, I’ll have a slice of
you for starters.” Lily chuckles. “No, I’m kidding.” She immediately replies
when she sees him roll his eyes. “Okay, my friend wants a rum and coke, and I
want a whiskey sour if I can get one?”
“Yeah, you can, but it will
cost more.” The guy informs Lily.
“Fine with me, I can pay for
it.”
“I’m sure you can.” The guy
quickly remarks as he turns to get the cups to make the drinks. He finishes and
hands the drinks to you and Lily. “That will be two dollars for the roman coke
and four dollars for the whiskey sour.”
“This one’s on me Kit.”
Lily informs you as she pulls a ten-dollar bill out of her pocket of her leather
pants. “Here.” She hands the bill to him.
“And here’s four dollars
back.” He hands Lily her change.
“How much are Jell-O
shots?” Lily inquires.
“Fifty cents a shot.” He
answers.
“Sweet! K, thanks.” She
replies and turns to head back to the living room. As you follow Lily back, you
see that same guy, again, talking to a couple of girls. You glance his way, but
quickly glance back at Lily’s head so he won’t notice that you were looking at
him again.
“So what are we gonna do
now?” You ask as you and Lily reach the parlor.
“Dance.” Lily replies as
she starts dancing to the song blasting on the stereo. “Oh, Peaches ‘n Cream.”
Lily starts singing to the music.
“I don’t want to dance.
It’s too crowded.” You complain but it was extremely crowded. You are
packed into that house like sardines, and there’s more people coming through the
door every minute.
“That’s the best time, ‘cuz
then you can bump and grind with every HOT guy who walks by and that‘s
how you mingle in this sort of situation.” Lily explains.
“Right.” You reply,
sounding unconvinced.
“Well, there’s a free spot
on that couch over there. You could go sit down if you want and we can still
keep an eye on each other.” Lily points out.
“K, I think I’ll do that.”
You say and turn in the direction of the couch. Even though it’s only five feet
away, you still have to swarm through a small horde of people who stand in the
way between you and the couch. After about five minutes of just standing still
or worming your way through the crowd, you reach the couch, only to discover
that the empty seat has been taken by no more than your cute mystery man. “Shit,
of all the people, it had to be him.” You think in your head. As you turn
to make your way back to Lily, you feel a gentle tug on your hand. Whipping
around immediately, you see it’s the mystery man who has a hold of your hand.
“Wait, did you want to sit
here? Here, just a sec. Hey peon. Yeah you sitting next to me. You’re a
pledge right?” The guy asks the kid sitting next to him.
“Yeah.” The kid sheepishly
replies.
“All right, then get off the
couch and let this beautiful lady have your seat.” He commanded. Without a
peep, the kid got up from the couch, and his date, or at least the girl he had
with him got up too, and summoned for you to sit down.
“Thank you.” You say to the
kid.
“No problem.” He curtly
replies as he turns and heads through the swarm of people, his girl trailing
behind.
“You really didn’t need to
do that.” You reply as you slowly ease yourself down onto the couch.
“Yes I did, you needed a
place to sit, and so I got you one.”
“But why couldn’t you have
just given me your spot? Why did you have to kick that kid and his girl off?”
You ask.
“Well . . . there’s a couple
of reasons: A) Because he’s a pledge and I’m a member, so that gives me power
over him and B) Because then I probably wouldn’t be sitting here talking to
you.” He explains. Hearing his second reason makes you blush. So to cover up
your blushing, you take a sip off your drink. “Watcha drinkin’?” He asks.
“Rum and coke.”
“Good choice, good choice.”
Noticing that he also has a cup in his hand you ask him the same thing. “Bloody
Mary.”
“Oh, I’ve never had one of
those before.”
“Want to try mine?” He
holds out his cup for you to take. Looking in the cup and seeing the red of the
tomato juice, you decide against it. “Nah, that’s ok. But thanks for the
offer.”
“So what’s your name?” He
suddenly asks.
“Kit, what’s yours?”
“Jason. Kit, that’s a nice
name.”
“It’s short for Kitrina.”
“Really? That’s
interesting.”
“No it’s not. Quit trying
to play me.”
“Oh, so that’s what you
think I’m doing huh? A guy just can’t make conversation with a girl anymore
without the girl assuming that they’re trying to get into the girl’s pants.”
“Well then. What are you
doing?”
“Having a conversation with
you.”
“Right.” You say as you
take a drink or your rum and coke to find that the cup is empty.
“Empty cup huh? Well, I’ll
go get you another drink. What do you want? The same thing? Something
different? Want a Jell-O shot?”
“You really don’t have to
get me anything. I didn’t plan on drinking too much anyway. And I should go
find my friend.”
“Come on. You’re at a
party. A Sigma Nu party nonetheless. You have to drink at least one more
drink. Please? For me?” He pleads and flashes you a sexy grin.
“One more drink . . . and
that’s it!” Your resistance crumbles under his smile.
“Ok. Great. Now what do
you want?”
“Just the same.”
“Ahh, that’s boring. How
about some cowboy Kool-Aid.”
“What’s that?” You inquire,
having no clue what it is.
“Just Kool-Aid and vodka.
It’s really good, tastes just like Kool-Aid, but just with alcohol.”
“Okay, I’ll try that I
guess.”
“All right.”
“Here’s some money for it.”
You try to hand him a few dollars, but he pushes your hand away.
“Put that away. Come on.
Since I asked you what you wanted it means I’m gonna pay for it. Besides, I’m a
member, so I get drinks for free.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to
offend you. I didn’t know all the rules.”
“It’s fine, just don’t let
it happen again.” He winks and smiles at you. You can’t help but blush, and so
you quickly look down and hand him your cup. He gets up and begins to swarm
through the crowd of people, which seems to have grown quite large in size since
you last noticed. Scanning the crowd for Lily, she’s most likely talking to
some guy, probably the one she’s going to seduce for the evening. But you don’t
locate her. As you start scanning the room some more, you begin to notice a
rise in temperature, “Maybe because there’s more people in here now,” you
think to yourself, but then you realize it’s just you whose temperature has
risen, from the alcohol. You put your hands to your cheeks, and are surprised
at how warm they really are. Then you also begin to realize that you are on the
verge of buzzing. The invisible heaviness is starting to descend on your body,
especially your eyes, and everything is starting to get soft and fuzzy around
the edges. “Jesus, I’m pathetic, I’ve had one drink, and I’m already on the
verge of a buzz.” You snicker to yourself.
You then stand up to see where Lily has
gravitated to. Scanning the room with your eyes again, you begin to absorb the
number of people who are in the room. It astonishes you. There’s no room what
so ever it seems like. You stand up on the couch to get an aerial view of the
parlor, since you were unable to see Lily from ground level. After a minute or
two of scanning, you finally spot her clear across the room, talking to some
guy, going in for the kill, just as you had expected. You also see Jason coming
back with the drinks, so you step down from the couch and sit back down. You
feel much safer, having actually seen Lily, and knowing that she’s still around
and hasn’t disappeared into some guy’s room. Jason suddenly pops out from the
horde and takes you by such surprise that you instantly jump. “Whoa! Did I
startle you? I’m sorry. You tend to suddenly pop into clear areas after being
stuck in a mob of people for a while. Here.” He hands you your drink. Taking
it from him you let him know that he didn’t really startle you, you were just
lost in thought and he broke it. The pink liquid tingles your taste buds and
warms your insides as it makes it’s way to your stomach. “Wow. This stuff
really warms you up.” You say with a giggle.
“Yeah, it’s a real popular
drink among the females around here.” Jason informs you.
“I can see why, it hardly
tastes like alcohol at all. I like those types of drinks. I don’t like beer.
I don’t like the taste. I’ve just never been fond of it.” You start to giggle,
at the realization that you’re rambling.
“What are you laughing
about?” Jason inquires.
“Because I’m pathetic and
I’m rambling.”
“Why are you pathetic?”
“Because I’m already
buzzed. I hardly drink at all. So the alcohol has a larger effect on me, a lot
sooner than others. It’s almost embarrassing. Maybe my boyfriend is right,
that I shouldn’t have come, because I’ll just get myself into a bad situation.”
Feeling stupid for bringing up Marcus, you take a huge gulp of your drink,
draining it halfway.
“So you have a boyfriend
huh?” Jason slyly asks.
“Yeah, his name is Marcus.
He likes to control what I do.”
“Oh really? Does he go to
school here?”
“Oh no. He goes to school
in Idaho, where we’re both from. That’s why I could come tonight, because he’s
not here. Otherwise we’d probably just stay in my dorm room and he’d coax me
into having sex with him. I don’t really like having sex though.” You couldn’t
believe what was coming out of your mouth.
“Interesting.” Getting the
impression that Jason was thinking you’re a big idiot, you hastily take another
drink of your cowboy Kool-Aid, and inform him, “I am normally not this open.
I’m not this open at all. It’s just the alcohol I’m assuming has taken its
affect on me, and I’m starting to feel quite drunk, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, it’s
perfectly all right. I see this all the time.” Jason explains.
“You do?”
“Yeah. But what you need to
do is to slow down your intake of alcohol, but don’t stop.”
“Why not?”
“Because then you’ll get
what is known as the drowsy drunks.”
“What’s that?” You keep
interrupting him after every sentence like a four-year-old.
“Well, let me tell you. The
drowsy drunks are when you stop drinking, and your body suddenly goes through a
detox . . . ” He begins to think of a better explanation, looking at the
puzzled expression on your face. “Okay. It’s like pot smokers who smoke pot,
they are on a ‘high’ for a while, but then that high begins to decrease as your
body loses the marijuana in your system . . . ” Seeing that you’re even more
confused than before, he simply puts, “When you stop drinking, it makes you
tired and you want to sleep.”
“Oh. Okay, I understand
now.” You say with amazement. You then tip your head back, while putting the
cup to your lips and drain the rest of the contents from the cup.
“So what do you want to do
now?” Jason asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe I
should go find Lily and see if she wants to go home. I’m drunk. I should go
home and go to bed.”
“No! Come on! You
shouldn’t go! You’re not that drunk. And besides, do you know where your
friend is? You’re much safer here with me. Don’t worry. Now come on.” Jason
grabs your hand and pulls you off the couch. You end up in front of him, with
his hand on your lower back, pushing you gently through the crowd to where the
“bar” is. You decide not to resist because A) You don’t really feel like
searching through the crowd for Lily and B) You are attracted to Jason, and so
you feel safe being with him. You finally reach the bar, and Jason yells, “Two
Jell-O shots,” at the bartender, who immediately sets them out. “I don’t know
Jason, isn’t this a fast intake of alcohol, when you said I should be slowing
down?” You still had your wits and common sense about you, even though you felt
quite drunk.
“Yes, but its okay right,
because this is your night to have fun, and not let your boyfriend tell
you what to do.” He struck the right chord. The memory of yours and Marcus’
fight came flooding back into your mind, and how this was your night to have fun
with no worries.
“Give me that fucking
shot.” You demand as you thrust your hand to the shot, pick it up, and tip it
back, swallowing the Jell-O, all in one quick movement.
“Hey! You forgot to toast
first. You never take shots with someone without toasting first. Faux pas.”
Jason informs you.
“Shit. I guess I’ll just
have to try that all over again.” You say as you hand the shot glass back to
the bartender to be refilled. Getting it back, you look at Jason, who already
has his shot in hand, and you ask, “What to?”
“To having fun with no
regrets.” He lifts his shot up.
“To having fun with no
regrets.” You mimic and meet your glass to his, clanking them together before
you two tip them back and devour the blue colored Jell-O that once rested in the
shot glass.
After taking a couple more
shots, you two settle for some mixed drinks, you have a mudslide, while he
refills his bloody mary. Staying in the “bar” area, which is just another
parlor in the house, you two decide to make small talk and get to know each
other better.
“Let me ask you a few
questions.” You begin.
“Okay, shoot.” Jason
replies.
“Okay, what happened to DJ
Nookie, why did girls have to be on the list, and why did we have to by our
drinks?” You question, your words come out in slow droning tones, another
effect of the alcohol.
“Well . . . we didn’t get
the DJ ‘cuz he was going to charge us way too much money, we wanted a list for
girls so we didn’t get a bunch of stupid girls coming to ruin the party, and we
wanted to keep it pretty low-key, and we’re charging everyone because we’re all
trying not to spend a lavish amount out of our own pockets, since Christmas is
coming up.”
“Oh . . . I see.” You’re
almost to the point of beginning to slur your words. You decide to slow the
drinking quite a bit. You chit chat some more, and you find out that he’s a
junior, majoring in Sports Therapy, which was inspired from the fact that he is
the running back for the football team. You tell him you’re in theater arts,
your cast in Hamlet as Ophelia, and other things about yourself. It was around
eleven o’ clock when you began to feel sick. Clutching your stomach, you look
at Jason, a contorted look of pain on your face. “What’s the matter?” Jason
asks, concerned.
“I don’t feel very good. I
need to find Lily and get out of here.” You painfully squeak out.
“No. It sounds like you
should lie down for a while.” Jason coaxes.
“No, I really should find
Lily.” You refute.
“Tell me what she looks
like, and I’ll go look for her.” Jason offers. You give him her description,
as he finds a chair for you to sit in while he goes to look for Lily. Putting a
hand on your head, the other on your abdomen, you sit and wait for Jason to come
back with Lily. After what seemed like an eternity, which in reality was only
about five minutes, Jason came back, but without Lily. “I couldn’t find her
anywhere, she must of left with someone or is in a room with a guy.” Jason
tells you.
“No, she has to be around,
let me go look for her.” You argue as you stand up from the chair, but with all
the alcohol in your system, it throws off your sense of balance, and as soon as
you take a step, you stumble and almost fall down, being caught by Jason in the
nick of time.
“I don’t think you’re
physically or mentally fit to do that right now. You really should lie down.
Come on, I’ll take you to my room, and you can lie down and rest in there.
Don’t worry, it’s safe, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m looking out for your
well-being.” Jason was quite the smooth talker.
“Ok, just for a sec., then I
really need to get out of here.” You groan out, feeling even worse than
before. He puts his arm around your shoulder, and helps you through the parlor,
and up the stairs to the third floor, where his room was. Music was blasting
from some guy’s room on the floor, which make the headache you were experiencing
ten times worse. Jason led you down the hall to the second to last door on the
left side. Glancing at the door, you see pictures of naked women and football,
an interesting combo. Jason opened the door, and led you inside. What you fail
to notice, because of you current condition, is that he quietly locked the door
behind you.
“K, here’s my bed. Now just
lie down and you’ll feel lots better, trust me.” Jason slyly replies. The
statement and his tone struck you as peculiar and odd, but you wave it off as a
hallucination of your drunkenness. As you lay on his bed he switches the light
off and sits down at his computer, checking his e-mail or something of the
sort. The darkness adds to the drowsiness you were already experiencing, and
you close your eyes to drift off, feeling perfectly all right in your current
surroundings. Before you know it, you drift off into pass-out land, only
instead of black nothingness commonly experienced during a normal session of
being passed out, you dream.
You dream of rolling hills,
all green and lush, the warmth of the sun rays kissing your naked flesh as you
lay on the hillside. You dream of playing in the backyard with your father when
you were little, he pushing you on the swing, your hair whipping around in the
breeze as you went up and down, up and down. You then dream of you and Marcus,
in your dorm room, him coaxing you to have sex, “Come on, you know you want
to. Please, do it for me.” His voice resounds in your ears, and like a
flash he rips down your pants, savagely thrusting you on the bed, his weight on
top of you, suffocating your every movement or breath. “No Marcus, I don’t
want to.” You plead, but to no avail. Suddenly . . .you jolt awake, but
you are suddenly surprised, and immediately terrified at feeling the same
sensation of weight bearing down on your small little body. Squirming to shake
loose, you feel wet lips caressing your neck, and gravitating toward your face.
Alarmed by this action, you thrust your head to the opposite side of the
traveling lips, only to have a hand grab your chin and force it back so those
lips, those betraying lips connect with yours, and his probing tongue could
invade the depths of your mouth, despite your rigorous attempts to stop it.
Panic, gut wrenching panic. It travels up and down your spine, and heads to
your eyes where you begin to tear up at your impossible situation. As he holds
your face with one hand, kissing you deep and hard, with the other he begins to
move down . . . down . . . down, until he finally reaches the bottom of your
skirt, and proceeds to raise it up to your waist, while he straddles each side
of you your legs, so you can’t spread them to pull your skirt tight, which would
have made it impossible for him to hike it up. So stricken with fear, you’re
unable to formulate clear thoughts, so the rational thought of kneeing him in
the balls while he straddles you, never comes to mind. You squirm; frantically
trying to tear yourself loose from this guy, this animal whom you trusted to
take care of you, who now is going to violate you. He grabs a hold of you
panties, your pink lacy thong that Marcus gave to you on you last birthday, and
with one swift tug, he ripped them down your legs. Predicting this action would
cause more alarm, and a greater sense of urgency for you to try and stop it, he
applies more of his weight on you, making it almost impossible to move. “My
arms, what about my arms!” You frantically think, but as you go to move
them, you realize that they are handcuffed to the head of the bed. “NO! NO!
PLEASE GOD STOP THIS!” The words slice through your mind. He has already
switched legs so you’re the one who’s straddling him, when he suddenly plunges
his fingers into the depth of your insides. Pain, burning pain, and you
scream. But his mouth is on top of yours, muffling the sounds. Tears are
dropping like rain at the violation of your body that’s currently taking place.
He runs his fingers in and out, in and out, until the involuntary juices of your
insides begin to flow. He raises his lips off your mouth, “Ya like that huh?”
You spit in his face. He slaps you. “You’re gonna pay for that bitch!” He
reaches for the belt on his pants to loosen them. The total conversion of his
temperament surprises, then alarms you. “No. Please don’t. Please stop.
Don’t do this to me. Why, why me?” You sob. But it doesn’t stop him. He just
looks at you and says, “Why? Because you’re a stupid slut who can’t hold your
alcohol, and should be at home talking to your boyfriend, but instead you’re out
flaunting your ass around for everyone to feast their eyes on. That’s why.”
You then on impulse scream. When you finish, he just laughs and says, “Scream
all you want. No one will hear you, the music’s too loud downstairs or even up
here. Plus, no one gives a fuck.” He grins an evil grin and takes out his
fully erect penis. Your sobbing increases as you know there’s nothing you can
do to stop him, so you cry. He lies on top of you, breathing his musky breath
on your face. It makes you gag. A searing pain suddenly ravages your entire
body as he enters inside you. Grabbing painfully a hold of your breasts, he
sits up and deeply thrusts, in . . . out . . . in . . . out. Slow. Painful.
Thrusts. Terror and anguish hit you like a ton of bricks. You wish that your
mind would cause you to black out, preventing you from seeing or feeling this
pain, but it doesn’t. You feel every second of it. The thrusting in and out,
the movements from slow to fast, and back again. The wrenching and tugging of
your breasts under his fingers. You just want to die. “Take me away God.” You
croak. After one half hour, which seemed like an eternity, he finally blows his
load. His seed going into the deep depths of your uterus. He slowly pulls his
penis out, reveling in the full enjoyment at the expense of your torture. He
finally lets go of your breasts, slips his penis back into his pants, and zips
them up. He finally gets off of you and walks to the door, unlocks it, and
walks out. Violation, pure and simple violation. Your insides burned, a
painful burn like sticking your hand on a hot stove. Your stomach churned over
and over and your head started spinning so much, that you turned your body to
the side, as much as the handcuffs would allow, and puked. Horrible acidity
liquid came spuing out of your lips. You convulsed, again . . . and again . . .
and again. Until there was nothing left but bile. After the convulsing ceased,
you slowly lie on your back, and finally black out.
Cold. Instant cold as you
snap suddenly awake. Disoriented, you suddenly start to panic and turn side to
side, trying to recognize your surroundings. This panic immediately is replaced
by the throbbing pain that ravages your body, as the realization of what
happened last night comes crashing down upon you. You turn your head to the
side to vomit, but you only dry heave once. . . twice. . . three times because
you have already expelled all the liquid in your stomach last night. The cold
hits you again as a slight gust rustles the bush you’re hid in, biting at your
bare legs and you shiver, a shiver that shakes your whole body. Your teeth
begin to chatter, and tears begin to stream down your face. As you try and
stand up, your knees weaken and you fall down again. Slapping the ground like a
three year old having a tantrum, you build up enough determination to finally
stand up and walk out from the depths of the bush. The sun is about to rise, so
it’s light enough for you to discover your current location: in the bushes
lining the parking lot which is right across the street from your dorm. Your
mind is racing with a billion thoughts– pain, being glad you told him where you
lived, shocked that he had the decency to at least drop you close to your dorm,
pain, cold, angry for trusting him, angry at yourself, angry at Lily, angry at
Marcus, and of course, pain.
You slowly walk across the
street; each step shoots needles of pain through your feet and legs, which have
turned purple from the cold. You finally reach the door, and hope to God
everyone is still asleep. After your slow, painful jaunt up the stairs, you
make it to the fourth floor. Slowly opening the door, you peek in to see if
anyone is walking up or down the hall, you don’t want anyone to see you in your
current condition. Seeing that the coast is clear, you walk as fast as your
body will allow down the hall to your room. Shoving your hand in your pocket,
you retrieve your keys and hastily thrust the key in the lock, turning the key
to unlock the door, and immediately turn it back again to re-lock it. Shutting
the door behind you, you instantly are staring face to face with yourself in the
mirror. The sight horrifies you: puffy, red eyes; tear/mascara-streaked face, a
bruise starting to darken on your cheek where he hit you. You hardly recognize
your own face, so you turn away to relieve yourself of that disgusting sight.
You unbuckle your shoes, which take a lot of effort, since your fingers are
still numb from the cold and then proceed to take off your coat. As you slip if
off, you notice the indentations and cuts on your wrists from the handcuffs.
You rub the marks with your hands, but they don’t go away. You then completely
undress yourself, but stop for a minute or two when you get to your panties.
Afraid of what you will find when you pull them off, you hesitate. Finally
building up the courage, you slowly reach for each side and discover first that
the left side is only hanging on by a thread or two, a product of the savageness
in which he yanked and pulled them down your thighs. You are even surprised he
put them back on. But you proceed to ease them down your thighs and encounter
what you were afraid of all along: blood. His thrusts were hard and deep enough
to tear a part of your insides, causing you to bleed. Letting go of the
tattered, blood soaked item, it falls gently down your calves and onto the
floor. You step out of them and pick them up, deciding to bury them in the
depths of the trashcan. Your next thought is a shower. Grabbing your towels
and soap, you head into your suit mates room and into the shower, glancing by
chance at the green glow of the microwave clock which displays a time of
seven-thirty a.m. You turn the knobs of the shower until the water becomes
pretty hot. You step into the small confined box of a shower and close the
curtain. The water stings as it hits your cold violated body, and hurts your
feet. This does not faze you however, because you don’t mind the temporary
escape from the pain on the inside to an external pain. You tilt your heard
back, saturating your locks with water, and then take the washrag and coat it
with a thick layer of soap. You begin scrubbing your skin like a madwoman,
trying to erase all the traces of his filthy body on yours, but even though the
essence of him on your skin is rubbed away, the thought of him and his actions
still remain, and the magnitude of this realization hits you, and you begin to
sob, and slowly sink to the shower floor, huddling there like a frightened
runaway, the water from the shower covering your lengthy sobs.
No! No Jason, Please
don’t. Stop! Please stop! Why are you doing this to me!?!
Because you’re a slutty
little bitch. . . slutty little bitch. . . slutty little bitch. . .
You jolt awake in a cold sweat, the
words still echoing in your head. You look at your microwave clock to read
eleven-thirty. You have been asleep for three hours now, only to be jolted
awake by that horrible image of him on top of you again. Feeling defeated and
weary you lie back down on your pillow, praying to God that you can sleep
without dreams, especially dreams with him. As you close your eyes and
begin to slip back onto the depths of your subconscious, there’s a knock on the
door. At first it’s slight, but with the passing moments with no answer, it
becomes more urgent. “Kit, Kit! Are you in there? Dammit! Please answer the
door if you’re in there!”
Lily. Not wanting to move
an inch, you weigh the consequences of not answering the door. But your
good-hearted nature gets the better of you, or rather your conscience, and you
slowly climb off the top bunk of your bed, and painfully walk across the room to
the door. Opening it, you see Lily still dressed in last night’s clothes, a
look of anger and concern spilling over her face. “Where the hell did you go
last night? What the hell happened? I spent practically the whole night
looking for your sorry ass. Thanks for ditching me.”
You hide most of your face
with the door, but you’re tempted to show her your bruised face and scream at
her for leaving you alone with him, that he raped you. . .but no, you can’t. No
one can know what happened. Frantically wracking your brain for an excuse, you
can’t think of one, your brain is too exhausted with the events of the previous
night, you feel utterly defeated, to where the only thing you can say in
response is, “I’m sick, and don’t feel much like talking.”
“Hung over huh? When did
you leave then?”
“It was late, I couldn’t
find you. Walked back by myself.” You mumble.
“What, that hot guy you were
hangin’ on didn’t walk you home?”
“I wasn’t hangin’ on him,
and I stopped talking to him after he fed me a bunch of drinks, he scared me.”
You lie.
“Whatever. Well, go back to
bed, and sleep off that hangover. Remember we have nine o’ clock rehearsal
tomorrow morning, and you need to be well rested and ready.” Lily chimes.
“K, bye.” You practically
whisper as you shut the door. Tears immediately begin to roll down your cheeks
as you think of Lily being mad because you ditched her, and that she was worried
sick looking for you. You wanted to scream at her, “I was raped! It’s all
your fault! Why did you leave me?! Why did you persuade me to go to that
fucking party!” But you couldn’t. You didn’t want to. You don’t want her
to know, you don’t want anyone to know. But you can’t blame Lily. YOU
were the one who left her at the party to go sit on that couch. YOU were the
one who let him get you drinks and take care of you. YOU were the one
who ultimately made the decision to go and drink at the party and YOU were the
one who was ultimately paying the price for those poorly made decisions.
Feeling every inch of strength drain from your body and mind, you crumple down
off your weak legs, and onto the floor, where your exhaustion takes a hold of
you and you fall into the depths of a deep dark dreamless sleep.
“Riinngg.” You jolt awake.
“Riinngg.” The phone’s ringing. But you have neither the strength nor the
desire to answer the phone. “Riinngg.” Third ring and then, “click, Hi
you’ve reached the room of Rachel and Kit. We’re not in right now, so if you
could leave your name and number, we will gladly get back to you as soon as
possible. Thank you.” The answering machine drones the message you
recorded and then “Beep,” and the familiar voice of your mother, “Hello sweetie,
this is your mother. You must be out with friends. I wanted to let you know I
won’t be able to make it for your play because your brother broke his leg, and
so I will just have to wait until Christmas break before I get to see you. I’m
really sorry that I have to miss it; I really wanted to see it, but another time
and another play. I will try and call you a little later and talk to you. I
love you very much. Bye.” The answering machine kicks off. You want to pick
up that phone and call her back, but you can’t. You need to calm down more and
get control of all your emotions. You want to cry, because it frustrates you
that you can’t talk to your mother, and just frustrated in general over the
whole situation, but there are no tears left for you to cry. You
suddenly realize how dehydrated and ravenous with hunger you really are. But
you are also very weak, and so it takes you a couple minutes before you can
stand up on your two feet and not have your knees buckle. Your head is
throbbing from the hunger and the hangover, and your insides still burn from the
pain of last night’s events. Hunching over to try and subside the painful
burning, you go search through your cupboards for something to eat. You decide
on some minestrone soup, part of a loaf of French bread in your fridge, and a
big glass of water. After much labor of popping the lid off the soup and
pouring it into the bowl, you put it in the microwave to heat it up. You sit in
your chair at your desk, slurping your soup after it warms, and slowly munching
on the French bread, and sipping your water. As you finish eating your spirits
begin to rise, although the incident still nags at your subconscious. You dump
your dishes in the sink, deciding to do them later, and take out some Tylenol
P.M., so that your headache will go away and you will be able to sleep through
the night. Taking out the two tablets, you pop them in your mouth, and finish
your third glass of water. You then climb back up into your bed, deciding that
sleep is the best medicine to ease the horrible incident from the depths of your
mind.
“Kit! Kit get up, you’re
going to be late for rehearsal!” Lily shouts through the door, and then begins
to pound on the door again.
“Huh?” You slowly wake up,
still drowsy from the Tylenol P.M. You slide off the bed, and as you go to
answer the door, you notice that the microwave clock reads “eight-fifty-five,”
five minutes before rehearsal. You open the door to find an impatient and
growing irritable Lily standing before you.
“What the hell? Why didn’t
you set your alarm? We are going to be late!” Lily huffily replies.
“I’m sorry, just go without
me, I’ll just show up late.” You tell her, remembering that you still have that
bruise on your face you need to cover up.
“Fine. I can’t believe
you. Oh well. I’ll see you in rehearsal.” She snidely remarks and turns and
walks down the hall. Realizing the urgency of getting down to rehearsal, you
frantically dress, as fast as your body will allow, and cover up the bruise on
your face as best as you can. Then you quickly hurry down to the theater, to
make it on stage before your time to go on. You feel better, well, best as you
possibly can for the circumstances, but you feel that rehearsing and moving on
with your life will be the best way to get over the rape.
Rehearsal goes exceptionally
well. You were flawless, like nothing had happened to you, like you were never
raped, like you never had a fight with Marcus, like everything was normal, but
you are an actress, and can cover up everything so that it looks like nothing.
Although, you can’t hide from your own feelings you feel inside like you can to
others on the outside, but you can pretend, for awhile.
Tuesday. The day before
opening night. The director decided to cancel rehearsal, so everyone could have
a day to rest and relax before the big night. You decide to take the whole day
off from everything and sleep in quite late. Your dreams of the rape have been
off and on the last couple days. You still feel a little drowsy from the little
lack of sleep you experience from waking up in a cold sweat, biting back the
tears and having to calm yourself down so you can sleep again. But this is an
improvement from when you would lie there for hours, fighting away sleep because
you were afraid of dreaming that horrible dream over and over again. But this
morning you aren’t worried about that because you are purely exhausted from
dress rehearsal the previous night, and because you have the play to slip into
your dreams, and push out the rape.
You hear Rachel get up at
nine o’ clock, to get ready for class. She rummages through her drawers to find
the right clothes to wear, and then looks through her cupboard to find something
to eat, deciding on chips. You hear the crinkle of the plastic chip bag between
her fingers, noisily opening the plastic bad to discover the chips inside. She
thrusts her hand in the bag, grabs a handful of chips, and stuffs them all into
her mouth, making a loud annoying “Munch, munch, munch” sound. You would like
to take your alarm clock and throw it at her head. Turning over to face the
wall, you think of her current prying, “Are you okay lately? Why do you
always wake up crying? Is something wrong, should I pray for you?” You
would like to tell her to shut up and to mind her own damn business, but instead
you just say, “It’s nothing,” and go about your day. But you forget about her
as you fall back asleep.
You wake up for the day
around twelve-thirty. You take a long shower and get dressed. You call Elliot
to see if you can borrow his car to go to the coffee shop for lunch. He asks if
he can join you and you say sure and he asks if Lily would be interested in
going, but you tell him that she has class. He says “ok” and that he’ll be over
in five to ten minutes to pick you up. Whether or not Lily went to class is
another story, but you don’t really care because she’s still a little pissy over
you sleeping in, and almost making her late a week and a half ago, and you don’t
feel like dealing with her bullshit today. Elliot picks you up and you two head
to the coffee shop for lunch. After a couple hours of chit chat after lunch,
you decide to head back to the dorms so that you can do a little studying for
your Psych 101 test that’s on Thursday.
Looking at your watch as you
walk down the hall to your room, you see that Rachel has just left for class, so
the room will be all yours to study in for a couple hours before she gets back.
Getting to your door, you pull out your keys from your purse, and slip your room
key into the lock. You turn it to unlock it, turn it back to re-lock it, and
step inside. As soon as you step inside you notice something’s different, but
before you have the chance to realize the dozen roses sitting on the counter,
arms and hands suddenly put a tight grip around your abdomen. You hear the
husky voice of a man breathe, “Hey baby,” and you instantly panic. Tearing
yourself away from this intruder, you trip over your chair and fall to the floor
letting out a blood curdling scream as this unknown man comes near you.
“Kit, KIT!” He yells, but
you don’t look up, and you don’t understand why he knows your name. You just
keep inching away, clenching yourself into a ball, and you keep repeating, “No,
No, Please don’t hurt me,” over and over again, more to yourself than to anyone
else.
“Kit! It’s Marcus! Hey
look at me! It’s Marcus! What is wrong? What’s going on? Kit, look at me.
Dammit Kit, look at me.” Marcus yells, a look of bewilderment on his face,
looking at you, his girlfriend, in the fetal position on the floor, mumbling to
yourself inaudible words. As he tries to get closer to you, you scream again
and then there’s a loud knock on the door and a, “Kit, are you alright? Let me
go get the R.A.” Marcus, not wanting too many people (esp. the R.A.) to get
involved, bounds across the room and quickly opens the door. Before him he sees
a short, slightly heavy set girl with brown curly hair and brown eyes. She was
turning to go towards the R.A.’s room, but stopped when she heard the door
open. “Wait.” Marcus calls.
“Who are you, and what are
you doing to Kit?” She sternly asks.
“I’m Marcus, her boyfriend,
and I just surprised her with flowers and a hug and she just started screaming
and is now laying on the floor mumbling and won’t let me near her. By the way,
who are you?”
“I’m Lily, the one you
hate.” Lily flatly replies as she pushes her way past Marcus and into your
room.
You’re immobile. You
involuntarily mumble words, words that didn’t work the first time, so you wait,
wait until he pounces, and forgets your screams, turning them off by shoving a
sock in your mouth. Everything is blurry, and muffled, and time has slowed to
where it’s almost standing still. You flashback to the rape and begin to cry,
large tears streaming down your face and form a puddle on the floor.
“What should we do?” Marcus
asks. “And I don’t hate you.”
“Whatever. Well. . .let me
try. Step back to the door so she can’t see you, and let me try and snap her
out of this.” Lily orders. She goes over slowly to your almost lifeless body
and lies down on the floor facing you, just a couple feet apart. “Kit, Kit,
it’s me Lily. Do you remember me? Lily? Look at me Kit, look at me, yeah,
now. . .do you remember Lily?” Lily whispers to you. You look at her, tears
still streaming down your face, and you mumble out, “Lily.”
“Yes, it’s me Lily. What’s
wrong Kit? Why are you crying? No. Don’t look away Kit, look at me. It’s
okay. No one is going to hurt you. Marcus scared you didn’t he? Put his arms
around you and scared you. He’s sorry. He didn’t mean to scare you. He loves
you, very, very much. What’s going on Kit, what caused him to scare you so
badly? Did something happen to you at that party that you didn’t tell me about,
and that’s what caused you to get so scared at Marcus grabbing you?” Lily
soothingly interrogates you. You feel utterly conquered, and just want to hide
away in your subconscious where no one can hurt or scare you anymore. There’s
no way out this time. You have to divulge the truth. You went for so long,
covering it up, but you can’t anymore, you have to tell them everything, every
little detail. Regaining a little more control of yourself after losing it
during the initial fright you just experienced, you are able to get up off the
floor from the fetal position, to the sitting position, leaning up against
Rachel’s bed, but burying you face in your hands, so that neither Lily nor
Marcus can see you cry anymore. “Kit, what’s wrong, please tell me what’s
wrong.” Lily softly asks as she reaches with her hand to touch your arm. You
shy away from her hand, letting out a muffled, “Please don’t touch me.” Lily
slowly lets her hand fall back down to her side. After a few minutes pass, you
finally feel able to tell them the truth. “Okay, okay, I cannot hide the truth
from either of you anymore. . .I wanted to, I didn’t want to tell anyone. No
one needed to know, it was something that I felt I needed to keep to myself, but
I obviously cannot do that anymore. So. . .I guess I have to tell you. . .um. .
.something did happen to me at the party,” a tear streams down your face as you
quietly squeak out through the flood of tears about to fall, “I was raped.”
Silence. A minute passes, then another, and still. . .silence. Shock. Pure
and simple shock, for both of them. The only thing to be heard is the small
sniffles expelling from your nose. After about three minutes, which seemed more
like twenty, Lily is the first to speak. “I am so sorry. Fuck. God dammit. I
don’t know what else to say, this is all my fault, ahh.” She starts to cry,
burying her face in her hands.
“No, no, Lily it’s not your
fault. It is my fault, I was the one who decided to drink, and I was the one
who left you to sit on that couch. I should’ve kept a better eye out for you.
Don’t blame yourself dammit. If anything it’s both our faults. Share the
blame. But don’t just blame yourself.” You try and reason with her. Then all
of a sudden Marcus speaks.
“Kit. Why?” And he breaks
down, and slowly slides down the door, ending up sitting on the floor.
“Look, I don’t have an
answer. I know I should have listened to you, but you made me so mad, that I
wanted to defy you and then show you that I can take care of myself and it all
just blew up in my face. Listen, I’m sorry. I love you so much, and I’m sorry
I’m causing you this pain, but please, please, if anything, don’t be mad at me,
and please don’t say any ‘I told you so’s.’ Love me for who I am, and realize
that I make mistakes, and this was a big one, but please don’t criticize me for
it.” You try and reason with him. This just makes him cry harder, and when the
wave of tears slowly subsides, he gets up, walks over and squats right by you,
taking your hand, and kisses it. Then after a minute, begins. “Kit, I love
you. I always have. You should know that by now. There is nothing that I
wouldn’t do for you. I know I was angry with you, and I wish that this had
never happened, that I had been there to stop it. But the fact is, it did
happen, and there is nothing that neither you nor I can do about that. But I
would never criticize you, or belittle you or do anything to hurt you, and I’m
sorry that I did hurt you as it is. I want to change that. I never want to
hurt you again. I’m so sorry. I love you.” He choked the last words out
before breaking down again and you sit up and put your arms around him, holding
him while you both cry, and then finally you two sit and face Lily. You all are
silent for a couple moments, all thinking the same thing, until Lily finally
says it, “So what are we going to do about this?”
“Nothing. Let it be. I
don’t want to do anything about it, but forget it.” You state your opinion.
“Kit, you can’t do that.
You need to catch this guy before he does this to another girl just like you.”
Marcus argues. “Do you really want that to happen?”
“You don’t understand. I
don’t want to. I can’t. I cannot let anyone find out about this, especially my
mother, how do you think this would affect my mother? She would be
devastated. I know it would be noble to fight and try to get him to pay for
what he did, but there are too many hoops to jump through, and nothing will come
of it. The frat boys will stick together, and say I provoked it all, and the
guy will get a good lawyer, and I don’t have the money to get a lawyer to defend
me. Nothing will come of it but anguish and tears from everyone I know,
especially me. It’s better left alone.” You justify yourself.
“But Kit, what if everyone
has the same attitude as you, every girl who gets raped says that it’s no use,
nothing good will come of it, then the same thing will just keep happening to
girls just like you. There always needs to be someone who’s brave enough to
fight for what they believe is right, even if it causes a little pain and
anguish along the way, because it will help out those others along the line, who
are naive like you were.” Lily fights back.
“But I’m tired, I’m tired of
all of this. You don’t know what it’s like. Waking up crying in the night,
three to four times a night, experiencing the same dream over and over again. I
want to forget all of this. I want it to be over and done with. I want to move
on with my life, I want to get a whole night’s sleep, without horrible dreams,
to not always have that image lurking in the back of my mind, I want it to all
be gone. . .gone, gone, gone.” You try and make them understand how you feel.
“I understand that this must
be hard, but I don’t think that you should just sweep it under the cracks. I
think that you need to fight...”
“You don’t get it do you. I
don’t WANT to fight it. Can’t you see that. Please, both of you, listen to
what I am saying. I don’t want to do anything about it but FORGET it. That’s
all I want. I will even go to counseling if that will make you feel better, but
I am not going to publicize myself and put myself against the fraternity or the
university just to be shot down. I don’t have the drive or the desire. Now,
please respect my decision and let’s drop the whole subject. I’m tired of
discussing it, and I need to focus all my energy on tomorrow’s performance.”
You finish, hoping they finally get what exactly what you are saying.
“Okay Kit, if that’s how you
really feel, then I will respect that. But I do think that counseling is a good
idea. But now, let’s all dry our eyes, and go watch a movie in my room or
something to take our minds off this whole event. What do you say to that?
I’ve got Cruel Intentions and Ryan Philippe is really hot.” Lily offers,
a big smile on her face, easing the tension and seriousness of the previous
conversation.
Laughing, you say to her,
“Yes, yes I think that’s a great idea."
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