Hey, you guys. My first story. I should note that this is purely fiction. Please enjoy.

Her Back

Cornelia's cheeks felt hot as she looked away. The boy in front of her was smiling, and most importantly, staring. She swallowed and suppressed a sob that was about to escape her chest, but she didn't know if she managed to hide the fact that she was shivering.

"So, Cornelia? Would you be my date?" His voice was gentle and utterly familiar. After all, he was one of her best friend's older brother – and, at one time, her big crush.

At one time.

"Sorry Peter, I . . ." Even though only three pairs of friendly eyes were looking at her, she felt unbelievingly uncomfortable, unbearably vulnerable. "I c-can't go with you. I'll be busy on Prom night."

Her gaze darted to him only in time to see the grimace of sadness pass over his face. "Oh," for a moment, he looked completely disappointed and defeated, but he quickly regained his composure and smiled sheepishly at her. "Well, uh, I understand. Thanks anyway. Um, see you, Cornelia. Bye girls." He waved awkwardly as he walked away.

Cornelia could've sighed in relief, but she remembered that she was still with Will and Irma. Both girls were looking at her questioningly. There was a silence that the girl didn't want to break, though unfortunately for her Will did, unaware of her wish.

"Cornelia, are you okay?" The blonde beauty rubbed her arm as she faced her friend. The redhead's brown eyes were full of concern and worry, but there was also seriousness and determination. Determination to get answers.

"I'm fine. Why?" She directed the question to Will; however it was Irma who answered.

"Dunno. Maybe because you just turned down Peter? The guy whom you used to be crazy on?" The brunette looked skeptically at her.

"I just don't have these feelings for him anymore." She spoke so quietly and so softly that the girls barely recognized her. They weren't recognizing her for a while, now.

Slowly, Will thought of her words and said, "Cornelia, enough with the hiding. Enough with the denying. You've been acting weird around everybody. You . . . you've changed." She held her hand to touch Cornelia's arm, but when she noticed her friend's body tense as her blue eyes restlessly fixed on her extended hand, Will dropped it. "I . . . we're just wondering what's wrong with you. I mean, has something happened?"

Cornelia froze at her question, and she let her head lower down in disgrace as Irma's words penetrated the mess and guilt and shame in her mind. "It's just that we're so worried about you. You can tell us everything; you know that, right?" Irma said thoughtfully. She gave up teasing and fighting with Cornelia ever since she'd been like this.

"I'm just having a hard time. Can't I have problems? Personal problems?" She'd meant to sound angry, but her anger barely boiled over the surface of her voice. What she sounded like was, frustrated, disturbed and very, very fragile.

Will and Irma were taken aback. The brunette didn't know what to say so she looked at Will for help. Nevertheless, the redhead had conflicted feelings as well. On one hand, she understood that Cornelia wanted some privacy. And on the other, it was obvious that she wasn't handling her problems right. Will wanted to help the blonde, but trust and love made her force a small smile instead of persisting.

"Okay, Cornelia. Whatever you say. Just know that, like Irma said, you can tell us everything." Cornelia stared at the brown eyed unblinkingly for a few moments before she nodded in appreciation.

"Thanks, you guys."

"No problem honey. Now come on, let's walk you home." She nodded and they all started walking, with Cornelia in the middle. She bit her lower lip as she felt like a burden. She had kept asking her friends to walk her home since about three weeks. No – nineteen days. Exactly nineteen days.

Anyway, the tall girl just wouldn't go home alone, and wouldn't also leave home alone for that matter. So she felt like a big weight, but she couldn't help it. She was so lucky to have great friends to understand her needs without understanding the causes.

Cornelia bit her lip even harder as she saw an alley close by. Between every couple of buildings, there was an alley – and each one terrified the hell out of her. At this sight, her eyes winded and she was aware of her breathing becoming heavier and shorter. She tried her best not to lose control next to Will and Irma, though she couldn't even know for sure if they were still beside her; their voices were distant and tiny now. She couldn't hear them clearly. All she could do was to panic.

Panic and remember.

What had happened that night was clear one minute, hazy the next. But one thing remained; the feeling of being dirty – soiled in a way. And that feeling never left her.

Cornelia looked away and focused back on the cement street in front of her, though she could still feel her mad heartbeats. It was a look at the memories that boiled to the surface of her mind and then receded, and the feelings that those memories induced in her.

Cornelia didn't want to be violated. She hated what was done to her. It was unimaginable how it felt to be invaded that way. To be so powerless that she had just lain there and breathed – just breathed. Just stared up into the shadows and BREATHED and prayed its end.

And she was afraid. So much afraid. Her body had been stiff and it had hurt. It was like being impaled. She couldn't do anything but breathe, because He had taken every other part of her body. He owned her. Cornelia would never use her hands without feeling His engorged flesh against her palms. She would never be touched without sensing His hands on her. She would never look at her skin without remembering His mouth, hot on her, and greedy, like leeches.

Cornelia could remember. She could never forget.

She'd cried, and He'd laughed at her tears. He had walked away smirking. She had lain there, torn and dirty. And even when she did manage to get up, she was still lying there. On her back. In the dirt.

If they knew, then they'd understand why she couldn't bear to feel people watching her or looking at her. She, the Queen of Spotlight, hated being seen.

Cornelia decided to silently walk through her life, trying to act normal and . . . and well. But in her head, she was always on her back and in the dirt, with her legs spread wide, and her shirt pushed up around her neck, her body tired and her thighs damp with her own blood.

People saw her on her feet, but she lived on her back. Her friends looked at her, but they never understood why she became so quiet. Why she became so distant. They never understood what she was hiding from. They never knew why she had built so many walls. They never understood her fear, why her heart raced whenever she got in an argument. How she lost the ability to stand up to someone because she was afraid of what might happen next.

She didn't let them understand. She was ashamed of herself; she believed she was too much of a coward to let it happen. Self-hate, self-loathe even . . . how she reacted, how she dealt with it . . . She used to think she was strong, but what had happened to her proved her true value. However, Cornelia knew she was going to have a hard time keeping it to herself since her friends would probably bother her nonstop to know why she was being so perpetually silent, slightly emo-like and a bit of a loner for a while now – completely unlike her traditionally social, even if a bit snobbish, personality.

If anybody knew, they'd probably scold her for her stupidity and weakness. If her friends found out, they'd be disgusted of her, and they wouldn't want to hang with her anymore. They were strong; they would never let that happen to them. It made her sick. It made her hurt.

"Here you go, Corny." Finally, Irma managed to break through the blonde's bitter thoughts and nasty memories. Cornelia found herself in front of the gates of her building. She turned around to face her friends. Irma was smiling but Will was looking anxiously at her. Cornelia assumed that the redhead had been talking to her, but being lost in thoughts, received no answer.

Conversely, it seemed that she wasn't going to pressure the blonde and push her to give her explanations as Will slowly backed away, still not smiling, and gave her one last look. "Goodbye, Cornelia." She said before turning around and leaving, Irma soon to follow after saying her own byes.

The now lone girl sighed and went to her house. Knocking on the door, it was her mother who opened it and greeted her daughter with a warm smile. "Hey, Cornelia. How are you honey?"

"Fine." Always the same question. Always the same answer. Always quick and dry.

Elizabeth Hale was no fool; she knew something was wrong with her daughter. A mother always knew. But Cornelia wouldn't tell her what the matter was, she refused to communicate and talk to her. Elizabeth knew she couldn't force her child to speak, but she wished she could help her. She'd been so quiet, and even Lillian's annoying bothering wasn't getting under her skin anymore. And the mother couldn't do anything.

So she watched as her sixteen year old kid went to her room, and closed the door behind her. Mutely, she shook her head in frustration before she sighed.

In the room, the broken girl dropped her bag on the ground and ran to her bed before crawling into a ball on it. Flashbacks went through her mind like endless, sharp needles. She shut her mouth with her arm to prevent sobs from being heard while heart-wrenching tears silently streamed down her face as she remembered a starless night and a rough body pressing over her. A hand on her mouth and another on her bare, slim waist. And a gruff, mean voice moaning in her ear.

She didn't know how to recover. Cornelia didn't know how to become who she used to be. She didn't know how to become someone new. She didn't know how to come to terms with what had happened to her. The unceasing pain . . . she couldn't make it leave her.

Forever, she'd be trash. Filthy garbage, marked with ignominy and contempt. She didn't know how to get cleaned up. She didn't know how to get up.

And all she wanted was to get up off her back.