**Trigger Warning**: This chapter was written in compliance with FFN's rules and guidelines regarding no "detailed descriptions of physical interaction of sexual or violent nature". While there is no graphic description of rape itself, the rest of this story will mention and feature the aftermath of a sexual assault/rape. If you think that you might be triggered by descriptions of the physical and psychological issues following a rape, I'd advise you to stop reading. Thank you.
Where Courage Ignites
9. Reputation
January 13th, 2018
It was this Saturday evening when I randomly decided that it was finally time to unpack my room. I had only gotten through a few layers of boxes when…"Gab-by?" A soft, high-pitched voice called out to me. I turned to see my little sister in the cutest little pair of pink overalls standing in my doorway, dangling a fisher price phone by its string. "Gabby call Izzy!"
I reached into my pocket, "Okay!" I pulled out my phone and began exaggeratedly pressing my black screen. I brought the phone up to my face and sang, "Ring! Ring!"
Isabella smiled excitedly and quickly brought her phone up to her ear, "Hello?"
"Isabella! It's your big sister, Gabby!" I said. She lowered the phone and looked at it momentarily before pressing the big, red end button on it. My mouth dropped at her cruel game. She responded with a screeching laugh and ran back into her room next door.
I giggled at her theatrics and resumed my cleaning. I bent over to grab my book bag by its straps and attempted to toss it the few feet onto the edge of my bed, but watched on in dismay as it slowly tilted and fell upside down onto the floor. "No!" I called out, my outreached hands freezing in defeat.
I sighed and shook my head at my own mess. I let my heavy knees land on the floor with a loud thud and lifted my empty book bag up, the last objects falling out to join the pile on the floor. Slowly, one straggler fluttered down and landed daintily on top of the mountain of paperwork. I quickly recognized the small piece of paper by its discoloration. I picked off the notecard and held it in my hands, straining to read his handwriting.
Saturday
10120 N 132nd St.
Shake some of your nerd cred.
I copped up an eyebrow in intrigue as I reread the note. Apart from the subtle insult, Anthony had a point. While I appreciate Taylor for bringing me into the scholastic decathlon team and Troy for wanting me to help him in Biology, I'm so much more than my GPA. I want people to know me as more than just the freaky genius kid. Anthony's friend's party could give me the opportunity to forge my reputation into what I want to be known for, not what others assumed of me.
I glanced at my alarm clock and found the time was already 7pm. The party would start soon, I imagined. I went to my closet and removed a pair of denim shorts and a yellow polo that had shrunken in the wash a few times that it showed my midriff.
I was careful not to encounter either of my parents as I ran out to the door, yelling, "Going to Taylor's!" over my shoulder.
The sun was in its last stages of descent as it painted the sky in strokes orange from the West. Only my shadow accompanied me on the walk just a few blocks into another neighborhood, one that greatly resembled my own with its suburban conformist aesthetic. I found a house on the other side of the street with the numbers 10120. As I crossed, a familiar ache in my abdomen began painfully twisting at my stomach. I ignored it.
I shouldn't have.
I walked up the few steps onto the porch and reached my fist out to knock on the door, when the door suddenly opened by itself. A red-haired girl, laughing to a friend behind her, nearly walked into me before noticing my presence. She jumped back and yelped, "Oh!"
"I'm sorry," I murmured.
She peered her green, snake-like eyes at me expectantly before rolling them and snapping, "So what is it? Are you selling Girl Scout cookies or something?"
"No," I barely heard myself, "I'm here for the party."
"The party!" she laughed along with her friend.
"Yeah, Anthony invited me."
They quickly fell silent. Her narrowed eyes scanned me up and down. "Is that so? Well then, you can come in." She extended her arm on the door to push it open. "He's in the basement with the others."
"Thanks," I said, walking by them as their eyes burned my skin.
I heard some music playing from just around a wall and followed it, discovering a staircase leading to the basement. I descended into a dark room filled mainly with guys all sporting similar looks with tight pants and long, shaggy hair.
"Holy shit," Anthony approached me with his mouth agape. "You actually came. I can't believe it."
"Why not? You invited me after all."
"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually show. I'm actually impressed, Montez. I didn't think you could go anywhere without your nerd troop, or that douchy jock."
"Troy isn't a douche."
"C'mon, Gabriella. Wake up. All jocks are douchebags."
"I'm sure many people say the same thing about skaters."
His tone suddenly turned defensive, "Yeah? Well they don't know shit." With that, he stomped away and disappeared into his group of friends.
To my left against the stairs sat a table with a variety of drinks and snacks. Bags of pretzels and potato chips were propped up against the gigantic bowl of punch. I grabbed the sticky handle of the ladle and served myself a full solo cup. I brought the plastic cup to my lips and took a full swig. It tasted slightly better than how I imagine nail polish remover would taste. I wanted to spit it back out. The juice had turned, I thought.
Anthony appeared at my side and asked, "How's the punch?"
"It's good!" I responded, not wanting to seem rude.
"Good, drink up!" He responded, pouring another red solo cup full and passing it off to me.
After about twenty minutes, the punch stopped tasting funny, but my tongue felt heavy in my mouth. I was in the same spot next to the snack table, scrolling through short stories on my phone when I noticed my eyes couldn't focus properly. The words on the screen would suddenly blur without notice like my eyes couldn't keep their focus. I kept my phone tightly gripped in my hand, but it seemed like it was spinning. I dropped my solo cup on the table and looked around the room, feeling like I was in slow motion.
Anthony approached me and asked, "Enjoying your punch?"
I slowly turned my head towards him, trying to focus on his spinning beanie. "Iss therre some thing in it?" I slurred.
"Definitely!" Anthony laughed. "About two bottles of vodka!"
I cried out, "What?"
"You mean you couldn't taste it?" He stepped over a napkin on the floor to close the space between us. I could feel the warmth radiating off his body, and a sudden nausea came over me.
"I need to go home," I said, turning around the corner and beginning to walk up the steps when I felt a hand on the small of my back. I froze.
Anthony ordered, "Keep walking." I looked back down into the room for someone else, but no one noticed me. "Go," Anthony put pressure on me until I had to keep moving. I tripped over the last step and stumbled onto the floor. Anthony bent over and began pulling me up by my waist. "You can't go home like this," he said and I felt my breathing instinctively quicken in fear.
"I wwant to ggo hoome," I clumsily stumbled towards the front door, the floor swaying underneath me as though I were on a boat.
"You need medicine," he pulled me further into the house by my wrist.
"I wwant to ggo hoome," I pulled back.
"Come with me, we'll get you some medicine to help you straighten up." His grip tightened.
I yelled, "I wwant to ggo hoome!"
He yanked me by my wrist towards him, but I resisted and kept my feet pushing me back against the hardwood floor towards the door. He lifted me and I flailed my limbs and desperately clawed for the walls for something to grab onto. My nails chipping against every bump and crevasse in the stucco.
"Help!" I cried out in peril.
He put one hand over my mouth and held my arms down with the other. I wildly kicked his shins and at the walls of the hallway, but he kept us headed directly for the door at the end. I tried to get my feet up on either side of the frame, but couldn't manage the maneuver in my inebriated state.
My eyes were swelling and a sense of terror overcame me once the door opened and saw a bed.
…
The sun had completely deserted me by the time I left the house. I began my trek through the dark, seemingly vacant neighborhood. I had to have been dreaming, I thought. This reality could not exist. In fact, it did not exist. I rejected the thought that what had just happened to me in that house was real. Nobody would be so evil, so possessed. I had to be dreaming. The alternative was too tragic to consider.
I cut through the long grass of the front yard to my house, the droplets of dew atop the long grass licking at my ankles. I found the stepping-stones and let them lead me until I stumbled towards the door. I had taken a few attempts to enter my key, when it suddenly turned on its own and opened.
My mother, with a sleeping toddler on her hip, put her index finger vertically on her lips. I entered so she could secure the door close behind me and set off for the kitchen. I opened a drawer and quietly plucked through the pill bottles. I found the painkillers and swallowed three tablets dry. I went upstairs to my room and stripped off all my clothes. I buried my bloody underwear in the bottom of my hamper and replaced it with a fresh pair and a pad.
…
January 14th, 2018
I didn't sleep at all last night. I lied on top of my sheets and stared ahead blankly at the glow in the dark stars stuck on my ceiling. I remained fixated on the pale green specks for hours as the alcohol gradually wore off. By morning, I had the sobering realization that none of that was a dream. That what Anthony did to me was real.
He raped me.
Tears leaked out of the side of my eyes and rolled into my hair. I tried to block it out, to think about nothing, but the pain reminded me of everything. My wrists still ached from the tight grip he had on them. The ripping sensation I still felt below the belt was inexplicable. Each ache, scratch, and tear was a testament to what he had done.
I tried to drag myself to sit upright on my bed, but it was too painful. So I carefully lifted my pillow to elevate my head and silently watched as the rising sun outside gradually illuminated my room. I listened to the sounds of the house, the pipes turning on, my father waking up Isabella next door, my mother's footsteps as she walked downstairs. I could hear from the clanks of pans that she was making breakfast. When the smell finally reached my room, I became nauseous.
Abruptly, a quiet, high voice spoke from the other side of my door, "Gabby!" I heard Isabella's soft hands patting the door between us. "Gabby, wakey!"
I stayed in my bed, holding a hand over my abdomen. My father murmured something inaudible to Isabella, and then spoke through the door, "Gabriella, honey? Why don't you come down for breakfast?"
"I…" I started, my voice shaking against my dry throat. "I'm sleeping in."
I heard him sigh, "Alright." He explained to Isabella, "Sissy is sleeping."
"Sissy no sleep," she argued, resuming her pats on my door. "Gabby wakey!"
I held my hand over my mouth to silence myself as I began to cry.
"C'mon, Isabella. Let Gabby sleep. We eat breakfast." I heard my father take Isabella away.
I sniffled and wiped the few escaped tears from my cheeks. I pulled my pillow out from beneath my shoulders and up to my head to lie flat. There I remained for hours, staring off at the plastic stars again as the occasional tears dripped from my eyes.
…
I can't remember when I finally fell asleep, but I must have because soon after, my family was loudly gathered on the other side of my door.
"Gabriella!" My mother yelled. "You need to leave your room at least once today!"
My father spoke up, "Come with us to the park, dear! It'll be fun."
"Gabby!" Isabella chanted.
"Go away," I responded.
My father huffed, "Gabriella…Look, may we come in?"
I sighed, "I guess."
He opened the door and the three of them filed in. Isabella approached the side of my bed and smiled at me. I stared into her happy, naïve eyes and the image of her innocence overcame me. I was on the verge of tears yet again.
"Gabriella," my mother said, "You need to come with us."
"Mom," I groaned, putting my hand just beneath my stomach.
"Oh," She nodded, loudly whispering, "That time of the month?"
My father dramatically cupped his hands over his ears, "I don't want to hear it! I don't want to hear about it, girls!" He shook his head in disgust as he left the room.
I asked my mother, "Can you bring me some pain killers?"
"Sure," She picked Isabella up onto her hip and departed the room. When they came back with some pills and water, she informed me that they'd be at the local park for the next few hours. After a quick peck on my forehead from Isabella, they left.
It didn't take long for the loneliness to overwhelm me. I wished I could go be with my family today, but I simply couldn't. I was in mourning. Mourning of my body, my happiness, my virginity.
…
It was about an hour later as I was still engulfed in pain and the accompanied thoughts when I heard a distinct buzzing from across the room. As carefully as I could, I dragged my feet over my bed and sat up, but quickly jumped off the bed as though I had sat on something sharp. I approached my hamper and picked up my shorts from last night, locating my cell phone in the back pocket.
Troy: Hey Gabby! Sorry I haven't messaged you yet today. Can I come over to study now?
Shit. Troy and I agreed on Friday to meet up today.
I'm sorry, you can't come over, I responded. I'm sick.
Troy: Bummer! I can lend you my book before homeroom if you'll be in school tomorrow.
I left Troy's message unanswered as my heart sunk down to my stomach. I would have to attend school tomorrow, with the possibility of running into Anthony all day long. I fell sideways on my bed and tried for hours to fall asleep until it eventually found me.
A/N: I understand that it might be difficult or uncomfortable to read a story with this kind of subject matter, but please don't let that discourage you from finishing the story. Take a break if you need to, but please continue reading. She will have a lot to work through, but I promise she's not damaged completely beyond repair. This story is ultimately about overcoming adversity and finding the courage to do so. There will be a light at the end of the tunnel.
