[Disclaimer: I do not own Lizzie McGuire. Nope, never have and never will.]
[Warnings: Rated R for dark themes and language.]
[A/N: Okay, I've never tried anything of this sort before, so constructive criticism is appreciated. This is a one shot thing. Flashbacks are in italics]
Hurt. Pain. Despair.
Don't look at me! Don't!
Please, don't look at me!
Get away from me!
No! No! Don't!
I wake up in cold sweat and breathing shallowly. My body trembles as I look around my dark room. I've been having dreams about it for so long. He hurt me. I let him hurt me. I am weak. I hate me. I hate him. Hate is an endless cycle.
Scared. Scared to be with people. Scared to be alone.
I want to die.
I should die.
I trusted him.
I am stupid.
I am worthless.
I try to fall asleep but I am too afraid to close my eyes. What if he comes through my window? What if he kills my family and then me? What if…?
I lie motionless on my bed just staring at my ceiling. It happened seven weekends ago at Jennie Wood's party.
I don't want to explain.
I can't explain.
I never want to explain.
I am scared to explain.
What if he finds out I told you?
What will he do?
What will happen to me?
What will happen to you?
I want to run away. I want to get away from everything. I want to get away from him. I want to get away from you. I want to get away from myself.
Someone please spare me from this pain. Someone please save me. Help me. Save me from him. Get him away from me. Kill him. Burn him. Just get him the hell away from me. Let him suffer and die. Just get him away from me. Get me out of this nightmare. I want to get out. Turn the back the hands of time. Tell me not to go there. Tell me to stay home. Tell me to go to the movies. Tell me something.
I hate you.
You can't do anything for me.
I hate me.
I can't do anything for me.
I hate him.
He hurt me.
I let him hurt me.
I am worthless.
I should die.
Someone…just kill me.
Kill me.
Please?
Just banish me off of the surface of Earth.
Get me out of this hell hole.
Please?
Do something.
I am still worthless. Nothing has changed in two seconds. I've always been worthless.
My mother hates me.
My father hates me.
My sister hates me.
I trust him, he hurts me, and I hate him. Hate. I hate him. I hate him.
Everyone hates me, they always have, always will. They all hate me for various reasons. They're all probably happy that I'm hurting, scared, and ashamed. They're probably throwing a big party right now. I can see it now. There's probably a big "Parker got raped by Danny Kessler" banner hanging there.
I said it.
I said it.
I can't believe I said.
Don't tell anyone.
He'll kill me.
Danny said, "Parker, if you tell anyone I did this I'll blow your fucking brains out! And I'll kill whoever you told!"
You're dead too.
You know.
He then looked at me and smiled smugly and was off on his merry way.
He needs to die.
He needs to suffer.
He needs to be banished
That bastard raped me. He hurt me. He probably loved every second of it. He probably loves being twisted and raping any girl he can seduce with his charm, magnificent smile, and muscular body.
Seduction is an evil game.
He flirted with me throughout the party. Me being the dumb idiot I am, decided to flirt back. I relished every second of it. He has this undeniable charm which is just irresistibly sexy.
"Hey," he said. "You're looking nice, Parker. I should just park myself next to you, Parker."
That cheesy line should have alerted me right there, an alarm should have gone off in my head. Beeeeeeeeeeep. Go, go, go away, and go! Parker, don't fall for it.
I smiled, "You're looking good yourself, Danny."
That's where the referee blew the whistle for the game to start. Everything is a game with Danny, everything. Everything is a lie. He manipulates your mind. He makes you think you're forever his. He makes you want to be forever his.
I was a wallflower like I always am at parties. No one makes an effort to talk to me, so I don't return the favor. He paid attention to me; he made me feel good about myself. He then picked up on it and took advantage of it. That womanizing asshole. That fucking asshole.
"No! No! No! Don't touch me, Danny," I remember screaming.
"Parker, you need someone to love you and that person is me," he snickered.
"No! Get off of me!"
Yelling. Screaming. No one heard me. No one probably gave a shit either. No one ever has cared about me. They've all pretended. It would have been better of they just secluded me instead of offering their fake sympathetic bullshit.
I go unnoticed, I'm happy with it that way, or so it seems.
I secretly crave attention, I thrive with it. I loved it when Gordo tried to impress me and all of the girls were jealous of me because I went with Ethan to the dance.
I need someone to help me.
Help me.
Help.
The memory of me screaming keeps haunting me. My screeching and my helplessness make me ashamed.
I am ashamed.
I feel dirty.
I am afraid.
I don't want to leave my house.
I don't want to leave my bed.
I don't want to be surrounded by people.
I don't want to be alone.
The images keep replaying in my head. Stop reminding me how worthless I am! Stop! Stop it! Please! Have I not suffered enough? Have I not been miserable enough?
I know I'm worthless! Stop reminding me!
I hate you Danny Kessler!
If only you could see what your horny pleasure has reduced me to. Not that
you'd have any remorse. You'd relish the fact that you've made a seventeen year
old girl into a psychotic mess.
Do you care?
No you don't.
You don't give a flying fuck about me!
No one does.
They all pretend.
They pretend that they care. They all do. They all hate me and their hatred for me is the one thing that brings them together. They all have their reasons to hate me. Don't believe me?
Kate Sanders hates me because she's a bitch, as does Claire Miller and their lemmings.
Miranda hates me because "I'm a weird witch".
Lizzie hates me because of the incident in eight grade.
Gordo hates me because Lizzie hates me and I broke his heart in eight grade.
Veruca hates me because I kissed Larry at a party in tenth grade.
Larry hates me because Veruca does.
Jennie hates me because she just does.
My parents hate me because I'm not their perfect child.
My sister hates me because I always get her in trouble.
Everyone else has their reasons and I don't blame them. I don't blame them that they hate a worthless person who won't amount to anything in life.
You probably hate me.
Danny's the only person who doesn't hate me.
Yet again he raped me, so what does that say?
It says that I'm insecure. This is something shocking to the outside world. I appear confident because I'm constantly yelling and snubbing everyone. Well people, don't trust what you see. It can be an illusion.
I wish I had known that seven weekends ago.
Yet again I can't know everything; I am worthless person who won't amount to anything.
Yes I am.
Don't offer me your fake sympathy.
I'm not worthy of any.
I'm worthless, remember? Absolutely worthless.
My parents probably think there's something going on.
"How was school, Parker?"
I answered nothing.
"Did you not hear the question?"
I still answered nothing.
"Damn it Parker! Answer the question!"
"IT WAS FINE!"
"No it wasn't!"
At that point, I usually trudge up to my room with pounding footsteps. Once I slam my door I start crying.
Why do I cry?
It's bad enough that I am worthless, but Danny makes it a point to remind me. He looks at me and licks his lips or gives me some other perverted look.
I feel sick to my stomach when he does it.
He has this look in his eyes when he does it. He enjoys tearing me down. He enjoys making me suffer. He can because I'm weak and worthless and can't do anything about it.
Danny Kessler raped me.
I deserved it.
Because I'm worthless and everyone hates me.
You probably hate me.
You think I'm imagining things.
Well I'm not! I got raped! I am not lying! Stop looking at me! Leave me alone!
Stay. I don't want to be alone.
Don't look at me! What am I? Am I here for your sick amusement?
Please help me. I am helpless and worthless.
"If you were like this more often, you'd get lots of guys," he snickered.
"I hate you, Danny."
"No you don't. You love me."
"You're a sick bastard."
"I'm the only guy who you'll ever get with, so be happy that you got it now."
And with that he left.
I stayed the night at Jennie's. I was afraid of going home. I was afraid he might have killed my family or was waiting there to kill me.
"Can I stay the night here," I asked Jennie.
"Sure, did you tell your parents you were sleeping over my house," she asked in confusion.
"Yeah," I lied.
I called my parents after that and they believed me. Those dumb asses believed me. I stayed the night on Jennie's sofa with my eyes wide open the whole night. Would he come back? Would he kill Jennie? Would he rape me again or kill me?
Danny should die.
Danny should suffer.
He should suffer like I'm suffering.
I can't kill him though.
I don't have the heart to kill him.
Even though he raped me, I'm too nice to do anything. I'm too weak to do anything. I'm too worthless and stupid to think how about I am going to do something.
Stop!
Stop it! Stop playing the images in my head over and over again! I am worthless! Don't you think I know it already? Do you like seeing me cry and hurt?
Of course you do.
You're just like everyone else.
They all love to hate me.
Everyone does.
I don't blame you.
After all I am worthless.
After all I am weird, I am worthless, I am mean, I am lowly, and I am a bitch.
I wish my life was a VCR. Then I could rewind to the part before the party and just pause and cherish the moment of being happy.
Then I wouldn't have become worthless.
Yet again I have been worthless all of my life.
Everyone says so.
You're probably thinking it right now.
I know you are.
Tell the truth!
"You're not worthless," you say.
Yes I am! Stop offering me your fake sympathy!
"Parker," you spit out my name.
"Ethan, why did I even call you over here," I say. My words are drenched in acid. A hurt look comes over your face.
"I'm so sorry. Danny's an ass."
"No you're not! You're just like everyone else! You hate me! Stop saying you're sorry!"
"I am," you say.
"Ethan! Stop! Stop telling me these sugarcoated lies! Stop telling me I'm not worthless! Stop!"
You hold me in a warm embrace. Don't touch me! Get your hands off of me!
"Ethan! Get your hands off of me!"
"Parker, please! I'm sorry!"
"No you're not! Stop saying it! Stop it! Stop!"
I continue yelling and you back away towards my window. My parents come into the bedroom and see me with tears running down my face and you cowering at the window. My mother is dressed in a silk robe and her curly hair frames her face. My dad's silver hair shines in the moonlight that comes through my window.
"What is going on," my mother exclaims. Like she actually cares about what's going on.
"Nothing," I whisper.
My father chuckles sarcastically, "How could it be nothing if you woke us up at three in the morning?! And why is Ethan Craft in your room?"
I say nothing and you do the same.
My mother speaks up, "Why is he here, Parker? Why?"
"I told him to come," I say. You just nod.
"Why," my father asks.
"I had a nightmare," I say.
"Damn it Parker," my mom sighs in anger. "You're not a little kid anymore! You don't call Ethan in the middle of the night to help you get over some dumb ass nightmare! We need sleep so we can work tomorrow and we can buy you all of the stuff you and your little sister bug the hell out of us for!"
Don't mind my mother; she's not exactly "Best mother in the world" material, same with my father.
"What was the meaning of this Parker," my father speaks up.
Dad wouldn't understand, he's selfish like that.
I say nothing and you remain silent.
My father walks over to you. He looks at you with cold hazel eyes.
"Ethan, why are you here," he asks you.
You look at me for something to say and I shake my head. I know what you're thinking, Ethan. I know that you want to tell him every word I said and tell him about every tear I cried.
"She had a nightmare," you say. Good boy, Ethan.
My mother yells, "I know it, you know it, the American people know it! Parker, tell us what's wrong!"
No, mother, you don't deserve to know. You don't deserve to be a mother.
"Please Parker," my father pleas.
You wouldn't care dad; your head is way up your ass. You've always been like that. You wouldn't care.
Don't think I'm not watching you Ethan. I know you want to tell them. I know you want them to be there for me so you don't have to. You think you've done that part and you're done offering your fake sympathy. But your fake sympathy is all I have in my grasp. I don't have anything else to hold on to. Even though your fake sympathy is like holding on to a thin string, it's still something. I know I've disregarded you in the past few weeks, but I need you Ethan.
You don't need me though.
You have Kate.
Kate doesn't need your sympathy, Ethan.
I need it! I need it! I need your sympathy.
It's the only thing I have to hold on to.
"Parker…what happened," my mother asks sternly.
"You wouldn't care," I scoff.
"Of course I would!"
No mother, you wouldn't care! You wouldn't! All you care about are your hair appointments, breaking a nail, your designer clothes, and yourself! You don't care about me! You never have and you never will!
Same with you dad, you're just as bad as mom. You pretend to care. You're very good at it too. You never cared about us; you only cared about screwing your secretary.
Mom and Dad walk out of the room looking at me as if I am a leper. I might as well be. I'm worthless and being a leper would add to the situation. Nothing that comes out this will be good.
Ethan, stop looking at me! Don't think about coming near me!
"Parker…why didn't you tell them," you ask sympathetically.
I say nothing.
"Why didn't you tell them?"
"Because."
"Because why," you're more assertive this time.
You're scaring me Ethan. You're starting to act like Danny.
"No Danny! I told you already that I don't want to!"
"Not so fast beautiful," he chuckled snidely. "You know, there's nothing to be afraid of. Remember me? I'm the guy you danced with during the second grade Valentine's Day party. You used to like me. I bet you still do."
"No I don't! Don't touch me Danny!"
"Hey! Listen to me! I can do whatever I damn well please! You're weak; you're worth absolutely nothing except to be laid. You're a slut!"
Stop looking at me Ethan! Stop it!
You have the same look in your eyes that Danny did!
Stop looking at me! Stop it Ethan!
"Parker," you call my name. "What's wrong?"
Didn't I already tell you?
"You should know."
"Why did he do it?"
"Because I'm worth nothing more than being laid."
"Danny's just messing with your mind."
"Danny's telling the truth, Ethan. Danny never lies," I snap at you.
"Yes he does," you snap back.
"Stop it Ethan, stop offering me your sympathy. It's fake," I yell.
I don't care if it's fake. I need your sympathy. I want your sympathy. You don't seem to hate me.
"It's not fake!"
"Yes it is!"
"Look what Danny has reduced you to! Look! He's making you think you're worthless!"
I am though.
"He's telling the truth."
"Parker, he's fucking with your mind! Don't you see it?!"
Stop it Ethan. Stop!
"He's making me realize the truth."
"He raped you Parker! He raped you! He's an asshole! He's made you feel so low, so he can make himself feel good."
Stop acting like my dad, Ethan. I don't need you to be his replacement.
"You need to press charges against him," you yell. My parents are probably in a dead sleep from their alcohol consumption, so thankfully they won't hear him. Even if they did they wouldn't give a shit.
"No I don't! He'll just sweet talk his way out of raping me. He'll say that I came on to him and was looking lonely. He would say that I'm just a mindless slut and worthless! And you want to know what? He'd be telling the truth! I am a worthless, mindless slut! Everyone hates me! They all probably wish I was dead or he killed me! You hate me! Everyone does! Should I list the reasons?"
You're in shock. I guess you were too dumb to think I had it in me.
"I don't hate you," you say.
Bullshit, of course you do.
"Um, listen, talking to Ethan is kind of like talking to wallpaper. Well, actually, wallpaper's a bit more interesting."
You thought I meant it.
I just said it so I could get Gordo to forgive me.
"I'm sorry you had the unfortunate event of knowing me. Just go away, I don't need you," I lie. You look at me sadly.
I need the attention, I need the fake sympathy.
Please save me. Please save me.
Fight away my fears.
Protect me.
Shelter me.
Do something.
I'm too weak, I can't help myself.
You look at me, "Parker, you need to tell your parents."
You're joking, right?
"They wouldn't care."
"They're your parents."
"Your point is?"
"They should care. They should care that someone violated you."
"They wouldn't though. They're too wrapped up in their superficial pleasures," I remind you.
"I care," You reassure me.
I know you do.
"No you don't," I try to protect myself. I can't trust anyone. I can't trust you or even myself.
Trust.
I don't believe in that shit anymore.
It's so asinine.
No one can trust another human being, not even themselves.
We sit in silence. You look at me, not knowing what to say.
"Parker, tell someone. You need to tell your parents and the police," you sigh.
And with those being your final words, you crawl out of my first story window. It's dark in my room still. It's quiet and lonely.
I can't sleep.
I can't do anything.
I am weak.
I am helpless.
I hate it.
I hate myself.
And I hate Danny Kessler, the most of all.
I hate you because you make me feel weak, worthless, dirty, angry, sad, scared, and hateful.
I hate you.
Because of you…the canary stopped singing.
I hate you.
[A/N: Okay, did that suck horribly? Or was it good? I don't know I kind of have mixed feelings about it.]