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A scream tears from my throat and I try to run but he trips me, grabbing my thigh and covering my mouth.
“We both know you wanted this,” he grunts as he digs into the waistband of my pajama pants.
He has no idea.
This is all I’ve wanted for so long.
For justice, the only way I know how to get it.
Even so, when he pushes me back against the sofa, I continue to fight him. At first, I think it’s instinct. But when he smiles and grips my hips, pushing me and pulling me down, the sick feeling of regret makes my skin go cold.
“Leave me alone,” I yell, scorching my throat but he doesn’t listen. My nails rake the back of his hand as he shoves me down with a bruising force.
I wish I could stop him.
“Stop!” I scream out, kicking him, but he covers my face. My heart beats wildly.
I changed my mind. I don’t want this.I try to scream again but he yanks my arm behind my back and pins me in place, forcing me facedown on the sofa.
“I’ve always wanted to play with a girl like you.”
* * *
I’ll never forgetthe smell of the blood. The air was thick with it although I didn’t know what it was until later.
The floor creaked as I stepped into Sam’s bedroom. I called out her name, pushing the door open wider, but deep down I already knew something had happened. The house was quiet, save the click of the air conditioner turning on. Even that made me jump.
Sam!I called out louder when I didn’t see her on her bed where she usually was. Her phone was there, though. Right in the center of the neatly made bed.
I can still see her now, sitting cross-legged and bobbing her head, making her ponytail swish back and forth as she listened to the music blaring from her earbuds. But that was the old Sam. The girl who knew who she was and loved herself.
That was before she was raped. Before she was told it was her fault. That she should have known better. Before everyone looked at her like she was the only one to blame.
Before she believed that she’d genuinely deserved it. That there was something innately wrong with her. That she really had it coming to her. That’s what everyone told her, so why would she think any different? Even if she didn’t want it, it was because of what she’d done that he hurt her. And she was the one who was the problem.
I tried to call out her name again but my voice was hoarse as I saw the light filtering through the crack of the open bathroom door. And the note on the floor.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I ended it.
I’m sorry I went to the party.
I’m sorry I kissed those boys and led them on.
I’m sorry I drank. I’m sorry I ever talked to Kevin.
It hurt when he held me down.
I promise I tried to scream. I’m sorry you didn’t hear me.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Mom.
I’m sorry all of this happened.
I don’t want to be this person.
I swear to you I’m sorry.
