The source of my embarrassment. The reason I no longer participate in school activities.
The reason I wear big sweaters and sweatpants—because everyone wants to comment on my body.
The reason I don’t speak with anyone, after realizing I had become a social outcast people wanted nothing to do with.
Yeah. I am fucking ecstatic that the year is about to end.
“Can I go to Grandma’s for the summer?” I ask, voicing the question that’s been on my mind since I found out the truth.
“The whole summer?” she asks, looking a little conflicted.
“Yes. I think it would do me good to get away.” To hide.
“Get away from what?” my mom questions.
“Just this town.” And the people in it, I add in my mind.
“I thought you loved this town.”
“I do.” I did. But now, it’s just too small. I don’t think I can stand another summer of being around the same people—the same bullies. I don’t think I’ll survive it.
“What’s going on, Dimah?” my mother tries to coax me into telling her what’s happening, but I refuse to answer.
“I just need a break, Mom. Especially before school starts again.” I give her an easy tale, an answer she’ll want to believe.
“I’ll talk to your grandma,” she promises—and for the first time in the last few weeks, I give her a semi-genuine smile. For the first time, I feel like the end of my suffering is in sight.
9
And your tongue could not get enough.
Just before seventh period, I go over to the nurse’s office and tell her I’m not feeling well. That just adds to my ever-growing list of lies, but I can’t face Gym today—not after my last run-in with Janice, or the follow up with Aron.
“So, what’s going on, Dimah?” Nurse Johnson asks.
“I’m not feeling too well.”
“You said that when you walked into my office. What’s the problem?”
I rack my brain for the next lie to tell. You’d think it would be easy to fabricate them by now, considering they’ve been my shield for the last few months—but every time I tell one, it chips away at what remains of who I am. Of who I was.
“Are you pregnant?” The nurse’s words break through my internal thoughts.
“Am I what?” I ask, my voice rising.
“Are you pregnant?”
“Why would you say that?”
“It’s not like we don’t know you’re sexually active. The walls have ears.” She looks at me like I should know. Like I should be aware of what a slut I am. As if I’m the only one who’s missed the memo.
“Are you serious?” I ask, a laugh escaping my lips. It echoes around me—maniacal and wild—and it scares me.
She looks me up and down. “I know you slept with Jacob Hastings last year.” I can see the disgust in her eyes, the way her nose wrinkles in disapproval. “I’m sure he isn’t the only one,” she adds.
My hands begin to shake; I start rocking back and forth on my heels, but she doesn’t notice. She doesn’t realize I’m a cup that’s been filled to the brim and I’m about to overflow. She doesn’t realize what her words are doing to me.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” I shout, all restraint finally breaking
She gives me a condescending smile. “Watch your language, sweetie. It’ll be alright—some people just make poor choices,” she says, trying to fucking soothe me.
I can’t believe the nerve of this woman. Stupid high school students I could deal with. Teenagers with nothing better to do than make fun of me, I could get over. I could ignore it. I could live with it.
But not this.
Not an adult, without the slightest semblance of an idea of what actually happened, throwing it back in my face. This, for some reason, I cannot stand for.
A strength I haven’t felt in years surges through my body; a sudden air of confidence comes over me, and a little piece of who I used to be before last year comes back to life. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I spit out.
“Honey, I think everyone knows what I’m talking about,” she reasons. The walls have ears means she’s listened to all the insults thrown my way on the daily. She’s heard all the things I’ve been called, all the things that have been said. And she’s done nothing. As a nurse, she has a duty to care for her students; I’m both shocked and disgusted by the realization that she’s chosen to ignore that responsibility. Clearly, like everyone else, she prefers to pass judgment on me for choices I didn’t have.
“You should be wary of taking the words of high school students as gospel.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means that not everything you hear is true.”
“Some of it is,” she says.
“Some of it isn’t.”
“So, you’re saying you didn’t sleep with Jacob and all the other guys I keep hearing about?”
I pause for a second. “All the other guys?” I ask.
“Yeah, the other football players from last year. Some people in band. You’ve been getting around, apparently.”
My hands flex into fists. “Do they teach staff to blame the victim too?” I ask in a low voice.
“Victim? You?” she says in surprise, like me being a victim is so far-fetched she can’t believe it.
“You should’ve asked, like you’re supposed to do. But I guess the rumor mill’s too entertaining.”
The nurse sniffs. “It happens. People sleep with other people. Sometimes they regret it later. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t coming in here because you’re pregnant. You should know how to be safe by now.”
“Why don’t you just shut up?”
She frowns. “Excuse me?”
“You insist on speaking about something you know nothing about.”
“I know enough.” She crosses her arms, looking down on me.
“Bullshit. You know nothing. You know only what you’ve been spoon fed.”
“Most rumors are at least a little bit true, Dimah.”
“You’re really bad at your job.”
“I’m doing my job. Checking on whether students are having unprotected sex is a part of it.”
“I guess you can only manage one thing at a time then, and poorly at that.”
Prom Night
He unzips my dress, pulling my hair, kissing me roughly. I imagine what it would be like if it were happening slowly, if it were sweet instead of rushed. But regardless of how much I close my eyes and try to envision it all happening differently, the taste of alcohol on his lips is a reminder—this is my reality.
“Stop,” I tell him, pulling away as he tightens his grip on me.
He doesn’t listen. He continues to kiss me, pulling my hair painfully as his hands travel over my body. He moves towards the bed, pulling me along with him. Suddenly, he rips my dress open.
I watch it fall slowly to the floor. “Jacob,” I whisper, a tear gliding down my face.
“Isn’t this what you’ve wanted for a long time?” he asks me.
I finally notice the slurring of his words, the redness in his eyes. He’s looking at me like a predator looks at its prey. “Not like this,” I tell him.
It doesn’t derail his focus. He pushes me down on the bed, rips off my underwear.
“Stop.” I hear myself shouting in my head—but there aren’t any words coming out of my mouth. Stop! Stop! Stop! I keep shouting but…he doesn’t stop.
He doesn’t ask me if I’m enjoying this. He doesn’t check to see if I’m okay. He never even looks at me—not even as he takes the part of me that no one else has had.
It ends in a matter of seconds, but to me it feels like hours.
Maybe he just got too lost in the moment. Maybe it was the alcohol that caused him to be so aggressive.
Maybe he really likes me and this was his way of showing it.
Maybe next time he’ll be sweet. Maybe next time he’ll listen.
May
be next time… he’ll ask.
10
Yet, losing me, for you and me was not the same.
I rush out of the room like there’s fire under my feet. I don’t give the nurse a second glance. No more words. Nothing. She isn’t the problem anyway—not the main problem, that is. She just did what everyone else does. She bought into the gossip, believed the lies. She’s nothing more than the tail of the snake, and cutting off the tail will do nothing to stop the poison.
I walk around the school, waiting for my anger to subside.
Just breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat.
I continue to guide myself through that simple motion, hoping it’ll loosen the building tension in my chest…but I still feel it. I’m still suffocating under the weight, and it’s only increasing with each inhalation.
I walk over to my locker to get the books I need to take home with me. Above my head, the bell rings, followed closely by doors opening, pounding footsteps, increasing noise. I block out all the chatter, trying the combination to my locker again since my first attempt failed. I do it slowly this time, carefully, because the shaking in my hand isn’t helping.
Calm down. Not this. Not right now, Dimah, I tell myself as I finish the combination and pull the lock down. Just as I’m about to open the door, a hand comes from behind me and slams it shut again.
“I’m glad you followed my advice and backed off.” Janice’s voice echoes in my ears.
“Leave me alone,” I tell her, my tone eerily calm.
“What did you just say?” she says, spinning me around and pressing me against the locker.
“I said, you should leave me alone,” I repeat. My voice shakes, revealing the strength of my emotions.
Janice smirks. “Did you guys hear that?” she asks the crowd loudly. “The school slut is telling me to back off!” Pinning me with her sharp gaze, she drawls, “Or what? What are you going to do if I don’t?” A small, inarticulate sound comes out of my mouth. She laughs—everyone laughs. She digs her fingers into my shoulder, pressing me against the wall of lockers.
I look down at her hand, feeling my own twitch in response. “I’m not going to say it again,” I warn her, my voice low enough for only her to hear.
Her top lip curls slightly before she announces to the crowd, “Did you guys hear that? Easy Girl isn’t going to say it again.”
Deep breath, Dimah, I tell myself. I inhale deeply, then release the breath. “I’m done taking your shit,” I tell her, bringing both hands to Janice’s shoulders and shoving her as hard as I can to the other side of the hall.
“Oooh, the slut has a temper!” someone yells in the crowd.
“Did you see that?” someone else adds.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Janice says, climbing to her feet.
“I told you to back off.”
“You think you’re tough now?” she asks, charging at me. I brace myself for the punching that will follow, the pulling of hair, the inevitable fight—but it doesn’t come.
“Let me go!” Janice shouts.
I look up to see Aron with his arms around her waist, stopping her from getting closer to me. Janice looks behind her and smiles, no longer fighting, seemingly content that he’s gotten close to her.
“What’s going on here?” Aron’s voice booms in the hallway; everyone falls silent.
“Dimah is off her meds, apparently,” Janice whines. “Picking fights with me just because I’m telling her the truth.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I demand. I swear I hear everyone gasp.
Aron’s eyes find mine and he asks, “Dimah, are you okay?” I look at him and don’t know what to think. Is he holding her because he wants to protect her, or is he holding her because he wants to protect me?
“Okay? You’re asking if she’s okay?” Janice shrieks. “That bitch pushed me! You should be asking if I’m okay.”
“I told you to leave me alone.”
“Like you left Jacob alone? Despite knowing he didn’t like you, you followed him around like a lost puppy. And when you got the opportunity, you screwed him, slut.”
“You know, for someone who claims to know so much, you don’t know shit.” I take a step closer to her.
“Excuse me, whore?” Janice sneers.
“You’ve been so intent on calling me names, so intent on making me look bad for sleeping with your boyfriend, but you’re the one I feel bad for.”
“Oh, please. You feel bad for me?” she scoffs.
“Yes, you. Because you allowed your boyfriend to rape someone for the sake of a dumb fucking high school game. And then you took him back. That’s pathetic.” Silence. My declaration is met with shocked faces and deafening silence. “You focused so much on how easy I was…I guess it didn’t matter that I never agreed to it.”
“You’re lying,” Janice spits.
Now it’s my turn to scoff—at her ignorance, at her naiveté. “I said yes to going to prom. I was foolish to think he liked me, but that was all. I never wanted to sleep with him. And I told him that much—as he forced himself on me and made prom the worst day of my life.”
“Stop lying,” Janice shouts. Aron’s still holding her back, but his eyes are focused on mine. I see a storm of anger brewing in his gaze as he stands there, frozen.
“I’m not lying. Whether you believe me or not is up to you, but I’m sick and tired of you…” I pause and look around the hall full of students before adding, “and your sick, mindless followers, calling me names behind my back, making my life impossible—speaking without knowing.”
I walk toward her slowly, sizing her up. I know that to her, and likely everyone else in the room, it appears that I’ve transformed before their eyes. Some may even think I’ve lost my mind for standing up to someone like Janice. But I haven’t lost my mind at all—in fact, I think I’ve gained a piece of it back.
It’s the part of me that wants me to fight for myself, the part that will no longer allow me to be a doormat.
I close the distance, so close now that we’re face-to-face. “If you so much as whisper my name again, I swear I will drag your pathetic, self-centered ass through these halls.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Janice challenges.
“You have no idea what I’d do. You don’t know me. You only know the person you created through the venom you spewed—but I promise you I can be much worse.” I look to Aron. “Let her go.”
Hesitantly, he releases her.
“You’re crazy. He didn’t rape you,” she says, shaking her head and looking around at the students surrounding us. They look back, their eyes full of questions.
I shrug. “Tell yourself that if it’s what you need to hear. But I was there, and you weren’t. Now, are you going to back off, or do I have to make you?” I ask, staring down at her, stepping closer. As close as we are now, I realize I’m taller than she is; another piece of who I used to be clicks back into place—stronger this time.
Janice looks around the room again, and then at Aron, still standing at her side. She knows she’s lost this battle; she never expected me to fight back. I needed to cut the head off the snake though, and she’s the head.
I hear the shuffling of feet, and cautiously tear my gaze away from Janice to survey the room. Everyone has shifted positions; they’re all standing behind me now. The only people on the other side of the room are Janice and Aron.
I let out a short, triumphant laugh. Lines have been drawn and now that the truth is out, most people are with me; it’s funny how the tide has turned, how things have changed. Most of these people have talked about me behind my back for so long I almost can’t remember a better time—but now, their eyes show empathy. Guilt. Sorrow. Embarrassment.
I turn to Janice again, tapping my foot. “I’m waiting.”
“If you knew she’d been attacked and didn’t say anything, I’ll make sure you regret it for the rest of your life.” Aron’s voice echoes off the walls as he walks away from her, making his way towards m
e. Standing at my side, he rests his hand gently on the small of my back.
“I didn’t know,” she whispers.
“Dimah won’t be the only one making your life hell if you mess with her again. I will come after you too. And you wouldn’t want that.” By the time he finishes speaking, Aron’s voice is hardly more than a growl. Janice flinches visibly.
She looks at me, then at Aron, her eyes scanning over everyone else behind us. A lone tear slides down her cheek; she seems to become smaller right in front of my eyes, and I can sense her powerlessness.
The same powerlessness I’ve been living in ever since prom night.
Then, she does exactly what the old me would have done—she turns toward the exit and runs. As she disappears, another piece of my puzzle slips back into place.
11
Losing me, for you was the beginning.
All I needed was the courage to take ownership of my life. Telling everyone in the room what happened wasn’t ideal, but I wasn’t thinking about that in the moment. All I knew was that the weight wasn’t going to go away until I did something about it.
The words of my peers weren’t going to stop hurting me until I said a few of my own.
I don’t know what’s going to happen to Jacob now—but honestly, I don’t intend to waste another thought on it. Maybe there’ll be a trial in the future. Maybe not. All I know is that people who do bad things eventually pay for what they’ve done.
“Hey Emerson, wait up!” I hear Aron say as I make my way to my bike.
“What’s up?” I ask. It’s great to be feeling so much more relaxed than I was at the beginning of the week; it’s great not to suffocate under the need to hide anymore. I walk with my head up and my chin high. In the days after my confrontation with Janice, I’ve gone to class, my locker, the cafeteria—and I haven’t heard anything negative being said. I haven’t heard anything being said at all.
Not the End (Not Alone Novellas Book 1) Page 5
