There's not much I remember about that was cool fall air and loud music. My friends and I had tried on many different tops to perfectly match our favorite jeans. Jason, a well-meaning friend, called to tell us that some other high school graduates from across town were going to make it to the party, exciting my giddy friends and I further. We were finishing high school with a bang before we fragmented into our choice colleges, sure to speak never again. We knew but avoided it.
When we got to the party (which was known to us all as "the big party"), there was barely room to breath. But somehow we managed. I didn't ask what was in our cups or in my friends' cigars. That was the kind of shindig it was. Everyone was happy.
I met him in a strange way. He was walking out of the kitchen with his new brew of...whatever it was. I, of course, was perfectly positioned for him to knock his elbow on my arm and spill his drink all over my meticulously chosen casual-but-eye catching halter top. He muttered an obscenity, rubbing the back of his head while looking down to the floor in embarressment. My friends gasped in feminine horror, but, upon seeing his tanned and handsome face, fell into fits of giggles.
"I'm so sorry, let me get some napkins," he said sorrowfully.
"Um..." I started, putting on a brave face because I, too, was swayed by his pouting hazel eyes, "it's an old shirt," I lied, smiling at the attractive stranger.
It was pleasant at first. We talked and laughed together. A little a lot of flirts were exchanged. After two hours of screaming into each other's ears to talk about nothing over the music, he asked if I wanted to talk in the quiet of the woods behind the house we were situated inside. A bit taken aback, I forced a smile and rolled the idea around in my head. Even then, I knew it wasn't a good idea, but only because I was worried we'd end up with our tongues dancing and I'd never hear from him again. But after promising he just wanted to chat, his eyes playfully begging me to accept his request, I accepted. I probably should've realized something was up when he took my hand and dragged me outside without being able to tell my friends where I was going. And he walked through the woods, leading me, for what seemed like forever. I joked lightheartedly about all the calories I was burning, but he didn't reply. I was getting uncomfortable very quickly.
He finally stopped and turned to me. There wasn't a smile on his lips. I cleared my throat and commented on how much quieter it was. In fact, we'd gone so far I couldn't hear anything but the quiet, normal rustling sound of the forest. I remember hearing an animal scurrying in the brush far away. He just looked at me for a few seconds, not responding. He stepped closer, closing the small space between us. I giggled, reminding him of how he wanted to talk when we were at the party. He still said nothing, leaning instead to kiss me roughly. I froze, surprised, not reacting.
I finally pulled away, ready to give him the "I'm not that kind of girl!" speech, when he pushed me on the ground. He forcefully laid himself ontop of me and recommenced his kissing me. Unprepared, I pushed against him as hard as I could, managing onto to tear my lips away from his.
"What are you doing?" I screeched lamely, my pitch raising as I started to panic. He chuckled at my nearing hysterics. As I pushed with all my strength, he slapped me. Hard.
"You're making this hard on yourself," he spat. "Just fucking enjoy it."
It finally hit me then. He wasn't going to stop, nor would anyone be able to save me. I started crying then, tears welling up in my eyes and spilling down my cheeks silently.
"Please," I whispered. I wanted to beg him to let me up, let me go home; I didn't care about the party, or my now drunk friends that hadn't even noticed my absence. I only wanted to be home in my bed, safe, unafraid, and far, far away.
He laughed darkly, pulling out a condom from his pant's pocket. I was a virgin, but I still recognized the flourescent green wrapper of the free health-clinic brand. But I think that deepened my fear, the knowledge of what that condom meant. Questions flooded my head, but all I could do was scream. I fought to get free, kicking my legs as he pulled down his pants, smashing my fists into his chest. He pushed down on me harder, holding my wrist with one hand and putting the condom on with the other.
Before I knew it, my pants were down, too, and there was so much pain. I cried. I cried and screamed until he got tired of listening to it. Reaching up, he crushed my windpipe with his fingers. The trees above me spun and swam out of my vision, black overcoming everything. There was no more pain.
There were times I wish I'd just died right there, on the pine needles and fallen branches of the forest floor, the stars shining merrily while ignoring my rapist finishing with me and leaving. He just left me there to lie unconcious, not caring what would happen to me.