Ahh! Finally, and update. So sorry to leave you guys hanging like that. Forgive me? Anyway, thanks to all who reviewed. I really appreciate it. Thank you animallove6991 for beta reading! :)
Unraveling
10 hours ago.
My hair is in curls, and I finished doing all my make up. Lilly was standing beside me applying some lip gloss. We were getting ready to go to a party Jackson's friend was having. "How would you feel if I liked Oliver?" I ask.
She start laughing like a hyena. "You're kidding me, right?"
"Maybe. Still, what would you think?"
"Well," Lilly's face turns serious, "I'd be a little afraid. I mean, if you two become a thing, that would mean I'd become the third wheel. I'd lose my two best friends. Then, I'd think...you two would make a great couple. Better than you and Jake. And, I guess, I'd find it cool in a weird way."
"I like him, Lilly." I said, "I always have. But he was the best 'boy' friend, you know? So I kind of pushed those thoughts and feeling away. Then, when we hugged while I was dressed as Hannah to see if there was any sparkage, well.. All those feelings came back. But he said he felt nothing. I was afraid to say how I felt. So I gave up. I met other boys, specifically, Jake."
"And you fell in love with him."
"Yeah. I did, but those feelings for Oliver still lingered. Gosh, what should I do, Lilly?"
"Tell him."
So there I, well rather we, were. Standing in front of the mirror. "Oliver," I say to my reflection, "we need to talk."
Lilly now has a weird black wig on and a painted mustache to add a masculine touch. "Yo, Miles. Word. Let's talk!"
I rolled my eyes, "So... I guess I'll just come out with it. I like you, Oliver. I like like you."
"Aw, I knew that. Who can resist Smokin' Oken?"
"Uh-um" I cough.
"Yeah, Miley. I like you too. Lets like go to Rico's and get a soda."
Present
He isn't calling me Miley, though. He is calling me Hannah. Hannah. He keeps moaning that secret identity of mine. Its making me sick. Finally, my survival instinct kicks in as he reached to undo my pants. "Get off me, Oliver! Stop it! No! I do not want to do this! Let me go" I wiggle to break his grip, but he is stronger. I am weak, scared, and shaking. He is determined, cruel, and wild.
He says it again. Hannah.
"I'm not Hannah!" I scream at the top of my lungs.
He doesn't care. Somewhere, he sees Hannah. Somewhere, where ever Oliver is, he doesn't see a struggle. He sees me consenting to let him steal away my purity. My body gets weak from protesting, and I give in. I let him rip off my clothes, break my body, and have 'sex' with me.
I felt nothing as he entered my body, except pressure and pain. I screamed out because it hurt. It hurts. He's hurting me. I don't like this at all. Stop. Stop. Please stop. I whimper, "Why?"
He is breathing harder on me. I can feel his heart pounding. I can feel my stomach churn.
I don't know how much time has passed. I know it wasn't that long, but it feels like hours. He is done moving inside me. His skin is wet. Everything stinks and smells horrible. He pushes himself off of me and puts on his clothes. I lay there naked and exposed. My eyes are burning from crying. My throat hurts from shouting. Its amazing how much music can drown out. All the cries out for help. It takes me awhile, but I force myself up.
After Oliver finishes dressing, he looks over at me. All the color in his face fades and his eyes are broken and he starts shaking. "What did I do? Miley," he reaches out to me, but I pull back like a scared puppy who has been beaten by its owner.
I'm completely naked. I wrap my arms around me as if to shield myself from him. "D...Don't t...t..touch me." I manage to whisper; my body trembling with fear.
"I ... I didn't do this."
There is this very small piece inside of me that wasn't to argue that statement. Even if I choose that piece to listen to, I wouldn't know where to begin. I've had a lot of arguments with Oliver in the past, but none... would even compare to what this argument would be about.
"Just leave." I say.
"I didn't do this." he continued to repeat those words.
"LEAVE." I shout.
And still repeating those words, he walks out of the room. When he opens the door, the music grows louder. He didn't even bother to shut the door on his way out. I found a sheet and quickly wrapped my body in it, before anybody passes by in the hall. I run, with the sheet as my clothing, to the door and shut it. Lock it. And slide down against it.
Every inch of my body aches. My heart feels like it's empty and heavy at the same time. I didn't notice it at first, but I am still shaking. My eyes are dry, simply because I'm all out of tears. I feel dirty and wrong; I just want to rip off my skin and escape all of this.
Thoughts I don't want to think about dance inside my mind, calling my attention. Sick thoughts. Thoughts about what had happened. My stomach flips again and this time I can't fight it; I throw up all over this bedroom's floor.
I know I should get up and find help, but I don't know here to go. What to do. This isn't a situation I was ever prepared for. Parents are always teaching you what you should do when something bad happens, but I was never taught what to do if I get raped; especially by my best friend.
Hours pass. I'm not shaking anymore, but the pain and fear is still present. I can hear cars driving away, so I know the party must be coming to an end. It takes every effort in me to get up, find all my clothes, and put them on. It takes even more - more than what I have left in me - to go downstairs and find Lilly and Jackson. I am running on auto-pilot; I have no more thoughts than what I am doing. Nothing. I can't, because if I do, I wont survive.
The music is being turned off, and I see now that a lot of people have left. "Miley..." a voice comes from behind me, and it makes me jump.
"Miley," Lilly says again, and I spin around to see her.
"Hi."
"Hi? Where have you been? Jackson and I have been so worried about you! We thought maybe you left to with Oliver and went home."
Oliver. I can feel my hands start to tremble. The empty-weight in my heart gets heavier. I wish I didn't exist. Pessimistic thoughts invade my mind, and I begin to blame myself. I find reasons to justify Oliver. I want to tell Lilly what happened so badly, but what if she hates me? What if she thinks I'm lying? What if everyone else finds out and thinks I'm a slut?
"Miley, are you even listening to me?" Lilly waves her hand in front of my eyes.
"Sorry." I mumble.
"Miley, what's wrong with your hair? And your make up, it's all smeared. Did you go in the pool or something?"
"Sure."
"Miley, what's wrong?"
"Nothing." I want to fake a smile to convince her, but it's too painful. "Let's go find Jackson and go home."
"Uh, okay."
Lilly goes off to search for Jackson, while I go to the restroom. I clean myself up, wiping off all my makeup. I use a miniature brush to straighten out my hair. When I return to the living room of the house, I see Jackson, his friend, and Lilly.
"Well, I'll see you later." Jackson says, then looks over at me. "Come one, we better get home before Dad has a cow."
"Right." I say. "We don't want Dad to have a cow."
I noticed things I never noticed before in my neighbor hood. Flowers, flags, and other lawn decorations. I saw a yellow ribbon tied along somebody's fence post. I've never seen things in such detail, but probably because I was never looking so hard before. Right now, I was trying to find some comfort somewhere. Something familiar. Something that could convince me everything is alright.
There was nothing.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Review Response: JBhater, I understand what you mean and I respect your opinion. I am a Moliver shipper, yes, which is ironic. Although, just because I am a fan of a certain pairing, doesn't mean I wont read or write something that's completely opposite. Also, I didn't mean to seem like I was blaming the reviwers for the crappiness of my story! I wasn't trying to say that at all. I loved the reviwers. (I tend to phrase things wrong, so please forgive me?) I think I just tried to do too much of what other people wanted. It made the story lose its original plot line. I didn't need reviewers to make my story crappy; I was quite talented at that myself! Hehe.
