by Chessy Prout
Owen unbuttoned my shorts and told me to lift my waist up. He pulled off my shorts and threw them aside. He tugged my underwear down from the side of my hips, but I instinctively grabbed them and pulled them back up. I was desperate to keep my underwear up.
“No,” I mumbled as he kissed me.
It was as if the universe splintered into two. Owen buzzed around like a bee stinging me rapidly and I was trapped in a honey jar, my brain covered in goo. How were things happening so quickly?
I could barely make out Owen’s face. I saw shadows and felt his wet mouth all over me. On my neck. Biting my ear. Chewing my breasts. I was scared.
Before I could process more, he pulled the bottom panel of my underwear to the side and stuck his fingers inside me. I don’t know how many were in there. I felt them scraping around and around.
It was so painful, but I couldn’t move. It was as though I was bolted onto the flannel blanket. What could I say that wouldn’t make him angry?
I was always going with the flow with my family, with my friends. But I was scared he could get more aggressive. At this point, he didn’t seem like the Owen everyone said he was. At least not the guy who’d emailed me BELIEVE IN ANGELS and promised me a sweet view. I was trying to form thoughts in my head, but the pipeline that delivered words to my mouth was gone.
Owen took his fingers out of my body and licked my stomach down to my vagina. His head was down there when he tried for the second time to pull off my underwear. I forced them back over my hips and dragged Owen’s face away from my underwear. I would put a stop to this now.
“No, no, no, let’s keep it up here,” I said, and let out a stuttering laugh.
Finally, words.
Owen scoffed. “You’re such a tease, Francesca.”
My face contorted with confusion. What did he mean? I was saying no. Why was he calling me a tease? I obviously didn’t want any of this. I’d pulled up my bra straps, my underwear, his head. I felt paralyzed. I couldn’t yell. I couldn’t kick. I couldn’t say a word. I’d never experienced this. I’d been lifting my head off the blanket as if that would help me stay in control of the situation.
His mouth was down there again. My head banged against the floor in defeat. Owen stretched my underwear to the side, and then bit the outside of my vagina. Why wasn’t he listening to me? I’d said no several times. What else could I have said to make it stop?
I looked up at the rectangular metal pipes on the ceiling and then felt myself float above my body. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. This person, who was not listening to me, was violating me in the most intimate place, and I was lifeless.
I couldn’t feel my body anymore, so I shut my eyes and focused on the deafening sound of the machines.
The whooshing air. Chessy, listen to the whooshing air. This will be over soon.
When I opened my eyes again, I felt something pushing inside me. I suddenly realized that Owen’s hands were planted next to my shoulders. That meant what I felt was not a hand. I was in shock.
“You’re such a tease,” Owen said again, this time sounding frustrated. “Would it help if I yelled?”
What the fuck was that supposed to mean? I sank deeper into deadness.
He thrusted again. My whole body jerked backward. He was having trouble getting inside me and I could tell that he was angry. He paused and moved his mouth past my stomach and spit on my vagina. I could hear spitting into my body.
I was freezing, a dead fish on the cold floor. I saw Owen’s hand move over my face to reach for something in his shorts pocket. He was back inside me. He moaned.
I was lying there unresponsive when Owen stood up and quickly got dressed. I put my hands on the floor and tried to push up my limp legs. I was so dizzy as I gathered my scattered clothes. I felt drugged. Could that be possible? I held on to the wall as I put on one of my sandals. The room was spinning. My legs were pudding. I lost my balance as I hunted for my second shoe. I braced myself with two hands on the concrete floor.
Then I found my phone. It was 10:18 p.m. How could that much time have gone by? I was completely disoriented.
Owen was in a rush to get to an a cappella concert. He walked over, grabbed my face, and kissed me on the lips. My mouth was numb. I couldn’t form words. Owen gestured that we needed to hurry up.
“How are we going to do this?” he asked.
“Don’t worry,” I mumbled. “You go first.”
“Well, that was fun.” He smirked.
Owen ran down the stairs and didn’t look back. I was trembling. The feeling started to return to my body: my breasts were sore and there was a horrible pain between my legs. What the hell had just happened?
SEVEN
The Immediate Aftermath
I walked slowly down the stairs and squinted under the harsh fluorescent lights. I secretly hoped that the security guard was still around and could see me through the glass windows in the stairwell. Maybe he would ask me what was wrong, or help me piece together the last hour. Because I had no clue how to explain it.
At the bottom of the stairs, I opened the door to the hallway and saw Dylan and two other friends who’d gone tunnel hunting under the chapel with me last week. They were racing around on black wheelie chairs. Dylan and I stood face-to-face in the hallway as I let the door close behind me.
“Hey, Chessy, why are you here so late?” Dylan asked.
I started spilling words: “I think . . . I just had sex with Owen Labrie. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or an awful thing. I don’t know whether to be proud or happy or . . .”
“Did you want this?” Dylan asked.
I touched the back of my head. My hair was a rat’s nest. I was so confused. How could it get that messy? Dylan looked shocked and frightened as I untangled the knots in my hair and stared off into space.
“No, I don’t know,” I muttered eventually. “I don’t know how to feel.”
“You don’t look okay. Do you want to talk?” Dylan asked. “Let me walk you back to your dorm. You can’t go by yourself.”
I noticed his eyebrows furrow, and I immediately snapped out of it. I had to pretend that everything was normal.
“No, no, no, no, no. I’m fine, I’m fine,” I said. “Don’t worry about me.”
Dylan and the other boys walked me out of the building, but I cut across the lawn to get away from them. I needed to be alone. I clawed the tears off my face as I trudged back to my dorm. I gazed at the night sky and prayed it would swallow me whole. I saw alumni up ahead celebrating on the chapel lawn after the a cappella concert that Owen had been racing to see.
How could they be happy when I was so messed up? I felt filthy and contaminated. I convinced myself that I was being too sensitive, too much of a baby. Dylan started pelting me with texts as I walked into my dorm.
Dylan: I am worrying I don’t like him.
Me: I stood my place and pushed, don’t worry.
Dylan: So he forced you?
Me: Kinda, but he’s notoriously aggressive.
Dylan: Ugh I am so sorry
Me: I made a decision, I have to deal with the consequences.
Dylan: ugh I’m still mad
Me: I know.
I had to get it together and fast. I needed Catie but she wasn’t in her room. I drifted down the stairs to the basement and ran into Ivy and Faith on their way to make cookies in the kitchen downstairs.
“So,” Ivy asked, “how was it?”
I ushered them down the steps and into a quiet part of the basement.
“Guys,” I said, my hands shaking, “I think I just had sex with Owen Labrie.”
Ivy’s jaw dropped. “Whaaaat? That didn’t happen.”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God, Chessy, are you okay?” Ivy and Faith gasped.
I promised that I’d talk about it when Catie got back. I tried to pretend that everything was fine and joined the circle of girls on the floor and couches. I avoided direct eye contact with Lilly, who was s
itting across from me.
I wanted to collapse on my own bed, but I was afraid of seeing Tabitha. Not after she’d cautioned against this. Not after what she’d been through. So I retreated to Catie’s room on the other side of the dorm, hoping no one would follow me. I needed to figure this out for myself.
I grabbed a carton of Goldfish crackers off Catie’s shelf and sat on the floor next to a blue beanbag chair. I put some crackers into my hand and accidentally dropped a few stragglers on the floor. They would have to live there. Possibly forever. Maybe I would join them, getting crushed by footsteps until I was pulverized into nothing. I was already dead inside.
Ivy and Faith walked in over my Goldfish graveyard. Moments later Catie burst through the door, looking as if she’d seen a ghost.
“Guys, check this out,” she said as she pulled down her sweatpants and revealed bloodstained underwear. Her boyfriend, Carter, had fingered her for the first time, leaving a gruesome scene for us to witness. This night was a total train wreck.
My first instinct was to ignore what had just happened to me and take care of my friend. But Ivy and Faith didn’t forget, and eventually they turned their attention to me. If I refused to talk about what happened, I thought it would raise more red flags.
At first I was nervous and giggly, recounting the rooftop, the kissing. My words crashed into each other, I was speaking so fast.
“He took off my shirt and shorts he kept trying to take off my underwear but I wouldn’t let him he fingered me and tried to eat me out I lifted his head up and I said let’s keep it up here but he kept going down there and I said no and he called me a tease.”
My friends looked at me and then at each other, their eyes bouncing like pinballs around the room.
“Oh my God,” Ivy whispered.
“That sounds aggressive,” Catie said.
I tried to keep it together, like this was no big deal. I checked my phone and saw Owen’s name in my inbox. I thought I might vomit.
francesca you’re an angel.
much love
owen
Stay calm, Chessy, I told myself. Figure out what the hell happened before saying anything more. Stick to the script he gave you.
Me: you’re quite an angel yourself but would you mind keeping the sequence of events to yourself for now?
Owen: comme tu veux belle fille.
I plugged the sentence into Google Translate to figure out what he was saying in French: “as you want beautiful girl.”
I looked up at my friends. The words tumbled out again.
“He bit my breasts and then he pinned my arms above my head and I couldn’t get them down,” I said, trying to steady my trembling hands.
“What do you mean?” Faith asked.
“Yeah,” Catie said. “Show us. Do what he did on Ivy.”
“Fine, I’ll show you,” I sighed.
I got up from the floor and positioned Ivy so she was standing with her back against the closed door. She was wearing a white T-shirt and baggy red sweatpants with ST. PAUL’S emblazoned in white.
I lifted up her arms and kept her elbows slightly bent, making a diamond shape around her head. I clasped both of my hands on her wrists and pressed them against the door. She couldn’t move. Like I couldn’t move. Catie took a picture. Ivy was searching my eyes. I could tell she was worried.
“He fingered me and then I was confused because both of his hands were near my head and I still felt something inside me. It was really confusing. I was just lying there.”
“Shit, did Owen wear a condom?” Catie asked.
“I dunno,” I sighed. “He reached for something in his pocket but I couldn’t see what it was.”
“You could get pregnant, Chessy,” Ivy gasped. “You need to ask him if he was wearing a condom. You have to find out.”
I felt like an ax had crushed my skull. I could be pregnant?
“I can’t ask him. What would I even say?”
“You need to,” Ivy insisted. “Get your phone.” My fingers were slipping as Ivy dictated an email. But I was too embarassed to use the word “condom.” I sent it at 11:09 p.m.
By any chance, were you using anything tonight?
Owen responded in Spanish on Facebook messenger instead of his St. Paul’s email.
¿que?
Could this guy just fucking speak English?
“Now what am I supposed to say?” I groaned.
“Just spell it out for him,” Catie said.
I was freaking out inside. My friends demanded that I get answers, but I was worried about setting off any alarms or offending him. I didn’t want him to lash out or retaliate against me. I wrote back, drawing out my words with extra vowels to make it sound more casual. The girls read and approved every message.
Me: Liiike a condom? Just incasee . . .
Owen: yeah
Me: Haha okaay thanks
Owen: are you on the pill?
Me: Nope
Owen: praise jesus i put it on like halfway through
Why was he praising Jesus? What did he mean halfway through?
“This is serious, Chessy,” Catie said, stitching her eyebrows together. “You need to stop being polite and figure this out.”
Me: Are you sure?
Owen: yee i think you’re fine
Wow. Think I’m fine? Were we like fifty-fifty here? Because I was 100 percent certain that I didn’t want to be pregnant.
Me: Hopefully, do you know for sure?
Owen didn’t respond for nearly two minutes. The girls insisted that I get explicit about ejaculation. I was mortified.
Me: Like before or after you came
Owen: hahaha i put it on long before i knew i would i would say you’re good to go but i guess it’s your call?
Me: haha sorry for all the technical stuff
Owen: you’re a gem let me know if there is anything else i can do
Me: you’re not too bad yourself
I fidgeted with my bracelets and tried to keep my shit together. I didn’t want to let on how upset I was. I didn’t want to be weak. I didn’t want Ivy and Faith to think I was a withering little girl.
I was in control. I felt that maybe this was my fault. I hadn’t been clear enough to him. Maybe I should have done more to stop him.
Faith and Ivy hugged me and then headed downstairs to deal with their cookies. They were probably charred by now.
After they left, Catie looked me straight in the eyes. “Are you really okay?”
“No, Catie, I’m not,” I said, gnawing on my lower lip. “I’m scared. Look at this.”
I slowly lifted up my shirt and revealed red bite marks near my nipples.
“Holy shit, Chess!” Catie said. “That’s not okay.”
“I need to take a shower,” I said. “I need to get everything off me.”
A couple of tears leaked out from the corner of my eyes.
“Can I use your shower and stuff?” I asked Catie. “I don’t want to go to my bathroom.”
“Yeah, of course, of course. Here, let me get you a towel.”
I hid in a bathroom stall and felt a shooting pain inside me as I tried to pee. I was paralyzed again.
Eventually, I stood in scalding-hot water and scrubbed the filth off my body. I wanted it gone. I tried to rub my skin raw, but my body recoiled from my own touch. Tears slid down my cheeks and swirled into the drain. I was empty, like something had been ripped out of me.
Catie, who never allowed anyone to touch her sheets, let me crawl into bed with her and wear her pajamas. She gave me a white T-shirt, white shorts, and white underwear. She cradled me and fed me Goldfish crackers until I fell asleep.
My head was pounding when I woke up. I had to face my parents. My sick grandmother. My little sister. I had to be okay. First I needed clothes. I skulked down the hall to my room, praying that Tabitha wouldn’t see me. I tore through my closet. Nothing felt right. I needed to cover my body. I put on a loose-fitting royal blue shirt and long white jean
s.
I met my family outside the dorm for the alumni parade. Dad was beaming, so happy. We were about to march from the chapel through campus down Rectory Road, the same path that he and Mom had walked along when they were newly engaged. The oldest alumnus led the line, followed by other classes celebrating their reunions, and the form of 2014 in the way back.
Dad put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed me. “Chessy, remember we’re going to be on the same reunion cycle, so you and I can share this for the rest of our lives.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said, trying not to flinch.
Lucy looked gorgeous as always in a white dress with pink and red flowers. After the parade, we made our way to the hockey rinks for the celebratory luncheon. Christianna held Lucy’s hand while they walked with my parents, and I slipped away to catch up with Dylan. He was with Haley—Andrew Thomson’s little sister.
“Are you all right from last night?” Dylan asked.
I shook my head no, holding in my breath. Dylan gave me a warm side hug.
Haley looked perplexed and I began to unload. I was still unsure of how to describe it. Haley put her arm around my shoulder and pulled me in, too.
I moved in a fog from the parade to the luncheon to the crew races, my head down, staring at the red bricks beneath my shuffling feet. Mom and Dad took pictures every two seconds, and I was exhausted from fake smiles. All I wanted to do was hold Christianna. I kept putting her on my lap and squeezing her. I needed comfort and home and safety.
The one event I was mildly excited about was a performance by the female a cappella group, the Madhatters. I planned to try out in the fall. It was a short show that night—just fifteen minutes before the Flagpole Ceremony, when students received athletic awards.
We arrived too late to get seats in the bleachers surrounding the makeshift stage in front of the flagpole. I was standing in a crowd next to Lucy and our cousin Katie when I noticed Malcolm Salovaara staring at me. I’m not sure what any girl saw in him.
