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By Root 239 0

a virgin, and he was struggling. He took his hand and shoved it inside me. I screamed “No” repeatedly. My heart was racing and my mouth ran dry. He stank. He rammed himself inside me as he squeezed my arms and put all of his body weight on me. I turned my head swiftly back and forth to avoid his mouth. Looking out the window to my left, I could see revelers on Madison Lane under the blue-white glow of the street lamp. With each thrust, my head was slammed into the headboard or wall behind me; when I tried to lift my head, my cheekbone was smashed into the same surface. He grunted on top of me as I tried to lock my legs together and fight him off. “Please, no,” I begged. “Stop!”

Despite my screams, he held me down and thrust into me repeatedly. I thought I was going to die in this filth. During the act, I heard doors opening and shutting and could see lights—maybe someone would help me. At one point, with horror, I sensed others in the room. I heard shouts and excited voices. But within a split second, my mind went dark again. All I could feel was something warm and wet gushing between my legs. I tried to focus on thoughts of my family and of God. Then, with a wash of pain, I passed out.

In the dark hours of that night, I remember feeling movement around the room, and remember being jostled. Was I being moved? Was I being raped again? I could feel something underneath me and the sensation of dragging, but I could not open my eyes or speak. I have flashbacks of hearing a shower running and feeling water on my back. Cold tile under my face. Time standing still and me not being able to move.

There was a shout in the hallway, “Holy shit! What did you do to her?!” but I could not open my mouth. It was sealed shut with dried, scummy residue and the rest of me could not move. I don’t know how long I lay there or how many people saw me. I heard a commotion somewhere on the floor with shuffling and yelling. The music started and stopped over and over. My body and brain swam down into a warm nest. I tried to lift my head at one point and I felt someone touching my face as I fell back into darkness.

Hours later, sunlight streamed through a window. I opened my eyes and assessed my situation. My mouth was almost glued shut with film. Where was I? I slowly became aware that I was in a room with a bed, two desks, and a loft bed above me. My eyes scanned to the right and left in the early-morning sun and I realized I was on a couch and that it was probably before seven A.M. My head hurt horribly; I raised one hand to the back of my head and felt a painful lump at the crown. I was wrapped in a dirty sheet. With horror, I looked down and saw the bloodstains from my thighs all the way down to my ankles. I began trying to peel the sheet off my body, but the blood was dried and brown and it felt like ripping a bandage from a scab.

Finally, I got free and shakily stood up, holding the sheet to my body. I steadied myself on the post to the loft bed, and crept over to the dresser. There was a pile of papers and mail on the top. “Will.” The name jumped into my mind. Someone named Will. Sure enough, I saw his name in the papers. William Beebe. As I put the papers down, I heard footsteps behind me. I froze. There he stood, just as I remembered him. His face terrified me. This man was an evil man, I thought. This man had hurt me.

But his face smiled.

“Well, I hope I was a gentleman last night.”

I said nothing. I tried to figure out how to escape.

“No? Hey, you’d better get out of here before someone sees you. Take a jacket if you want. It’s chilly out there.” His head jerked toward what I assumed was a closet door.

I couldn’t move. How could he be speaking to me after the violence of the night before? I was still afraid of what he could do to me, so I stood stock-still as he gathered his things and packed his backpack. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him take a plastic baggie that looked to be filled with a white powdery substance out of the top drawer of the dresser. I just stood with my head down, scared.

“Hey,” he said loudly. I snapped