6 Seconds of Life

by Tonya F Fitzharris

  “Oh no you don’t!” Darby says as she grabs my hand. “You need to keep moving. That’s the only way to keep the momentum up. Now let’s go.”

  “I don’t know,” I mumble, letting my shoulders fall low and loose at my side.

  “You’re coming with me. Let’s go.”

  My body sags to the right like a rag doll as she pulls my hand. I don’t have the energy to pull myself out of the chair, but she doesn’t mind doing all the work for me.

  “Fine,” I say in a flat voice.

  Darby and I throw our shoes off and join Kelly and the other sisters on the dance floor, holding hands and shaking our heads violently from our necks. I feel 100 times better. When I take a moment to look around through my blurred eyes, it seems like everyone is going just a little bit mad. The boys have freed themselves of their restraints—jackets and vests have been thrown to the ground, and neckties have become just loose scraps of fabric that hang from their necks. They’re confidently approaching girls—both their own dates and girls who are definitely not their dates—and dancing with them whether they were invited to or not. I see a few guys get their hands slapped away as they perform some unwanted ass grabs on unsuspecting victims. Some of the less confident guys are standing in exclusive circles, challenging each other to finish the bottles they slyly stole away from the bar while the bartender was flirting with their dates. The girls are pulling the bobby pins out of their hair and letting it cascade down their bare backs. Most are shoeless, and I notice that dress straps are falling and zippers and starting to sneak down.

  Everyone is exceptionally drunk and having an exceptionally fun time. My stomach flutters and my pulse catches up to the beat of the song. I am hyper aware of my body and loving everything about this perfect moment in time. I dance with sisters I’ve never seen, I dance with a cute bartender whose just cutting through the group to pick up another keg, and I dance with the DJ as he comes in from a smoke break. It feels so unbelievably good to move my body. I feel more alive than I ever have before.

  As I dance in the middle of the floor, I close my eyes, just for a second, to take a break from everything that is going on around me. The music is suddenly deafening and I feel woozy. My headache has gotten much worse from all of the jumping and dancing, and I momentarily forget where the hell I am. It’s peaceful with them closed. Almost like sleeping while standing up. I haven’t been able to sleep in forever. My mind feels quiet and tranquil.

  As I let one eye fall open, there are multiple arms and nameless faces grabbing for me. Someone else’s date scoops me up from the floor and carries me like a pile of dirty laundry over to sit at a table. I let my head fall back from his shoulder and see groups of people pointing at me and exchanging whispers.

  Oh fuck.

  I don’t even remember hitting the ground.

  I lay my head down on the tablecloth and take a few deep breaths. A cold glass of water has manifested next to me, and I take long, slow sips. It feels so good to just sit down. I glance at my feet and although I don’t see any cuts on them, they’re still throbbing with pain. I have no clue where I left my shoes.

  “Hey there, you ok?”

  Doyle has perched himself on the arm of the chair next to me. I can’t seem to focus my eyes on his face. For some reason, I want to tell him to leave me alone. But I don’t because my voice feels like it has been slowed down and too sluggish to even work anymore. Instead, I let him pull me up and walk me to the bar, where he orders us a shot and insists I take mine immediately, then orders both of us a beer. As he pays the bartender, I tip the bottle so that the beer quietly flows in the potted plant on the side of the bar. No one even notices. He grabs my hand and pulls me to the dance floor.

  At the beginning of the night, I loved the concept of dancing with Doyle. He held me close and made me feel safe during the slow songs, and stepped back to let me do my thing with the sisters during the fast songs. But now, he is nudging me in so close to him that I can’t even distinguish my legs from his. I ram my palms against his chest, trying to create some space between our bodies. His hot, alcohol breath is beating down on my forehead and making me sweat. I don’t want this right now. Instead of letting me back up a bit, he just keeps lifting me up by the waist and pulling me into him, his arms tight around me like a corset.

  “Your drink is empty, let me grab you another one.”

  The roughness in Doyle’s voice scares me, and he leaves me alone on the dance floor before I even have a response. I feel my mind getting dark and faded and on the verge of completely shutting down. I wonder if he wants me to get drunk so that he can get to the more advanced fooling around that didn’t happen the last time we were together. Who knows? It tires my entire being just trying to puzzle these things out without actually asking them.

  When he comes back with my drink, he pulls me into his chest again. I suck down the blue concoction, and it seems to push my headache out of my body. I feel refreshed. Doyle pulls me closer again, just like he did before. But this time, I don’t feel like fighting.

  I’m exhausted, and he provides me some stability. He starts running his fingers through the clumps of hair that have fallen from my up-do, and I let him.

  He just likes me. He wants to be close to me. There’s no reason to feel uncomfortable about it.

  Fucking relax, Maura.

  We keep dancing for the next two songs, slowly and sweetly, even though they are fast songs and everyone else around us is jumping around and screaming. He leans down and gives me a tender kiss on the forehead.

  He just likes me.

  That’s all.

  “I’m tired, Doyle…”

  I look up, and he’s smiling at me. I just want to feel taken care of, even if it’s only for a few moments. I miss the comfort of having a guy more than I ever imagined I would. And the way Doyle is looking at me right now, I feel like the most important girl in the world.

  “Want to go up to our room and take a break for a bit?”

  ****

  We’re in our hotel room now. Every brother who purchased tickets for the formal got one—a great package deal, so they say. I’ve never been in a hotel room alone with a guy before. I feel sickly nervous.

  But he wastes no time.

  I’m thrown into an invasive kiss, and he pushes my body towards the edge of the bed. I fall down on top of him. The sheets are so soft, I feel like we’re lying down on a cloud. They smell clean and reassuring. This is going to be good. Amazing. Exactly what I need right now. It’s okay.

  He pulls my hair to one side like a curtain and starts kissing my neck. His velvety lips feel like butterfly wings as that flutter against my flesh, making me tingle with anticipation. This is the way things are supposed to be. This is what will make it all complete for me. His hands are wandering the length of my body. I feel lightheaded. The way his hands push my hair away makes my chest tighten. Now they sneak up my dress, I feel my throat clench up.

  Too quick. I just want to take things slowly. Make this moment last.

  “Wait,” I whisper, trying to come off as a coy, sexual beast. I need a moment to retreat in my brain and just think about everything for a second.

  He shushes me and pushes his lips back into to mine. What the hell… He’s way too sloppy now, biting my lip and panting like a rabid dog. I bring my hands up and peel his limbs off of me, but he refuses, pulling away from me and twisting my wrist slightly. I swallow my voice, begging myself to stay silent. I feel like he’s getting angry with me.

  This will be okay. Just go with it Maura.

  I pull his hands off of my stomach and out from under my dress. And he lets me, taking it as a moment to get a drink of water. Where is this going? What am I doing here? He turns over and coughs and I find myself relieved at the fact that maybe this is ending. Maybe I don’t actually want this right now. But he lies down, and my stomach sinks. He’s back, and it only takes a moment before he brings one hand to my forearm and starts circling the sensitive skin there with th
e pads of two fingers. Okay. This is okay. I can handle this. It gives me shivers, but I let him keep going. It’s actually pretty sweet. So I let him kiss me again, and he pulls his body on top of mine. It’s heavy and throbbing, and now I’m not okay—I suddenly feel like I’m trapped under a boulder, struggling to catch my breath. Get off, get off, get off. His hand shoots back up my dress and grabs at my bare flesh. His jagged cuticles cut into me and I have to fight back tears.

  What the hell is happening?

  “No, stop.” I throw his hand to the side. Why won’t he fucking listen to me? I can’t let him do this, especially not here. I may be incredibly wasted but I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. I have to get in control. I breathe again, and I feel my pulse slow a little. But then he starts again. Forceful hands on my shoulders, cracked lips pushing against mine.

  No.

  He stops for a moment, holding my face in his hands like I’ve always wanted someone to do, like in the most romantic of movies. Okay. We’re doing okay again. Sloppy fingers quickly unhook my bra and I don’t stop him. It feels good. I swear this is all that I’ll do. We will not go any further tonight. He’s rubbing my shoulders, and then running a finger down my cleavage.

  “You are so hot,” he says, his voice shaky. Is her nervous to be with me?

  “Thanks,” I groan in his ear. It’s okay, Doyle. I like you. I’m not just some random girl. We have something kind-of special going on now. We start kissing again. Slowly and full of passion at first—but it all turns around and becomes an aggressive battle again. His hands start grabbing at flesh all over my body, making it almost impossible for me to breathe. I feel nauseous and I swear that I’m going to throw up. Like right now. I grab his hands and toss them over to the side, but with more force this time. I lean over the side of the bed and position the trashcan under my face.

  Oh god, oh god, oh god.

  “Maura, don’t be such a god damn cock tease. Seriously, you’re being a little ridiculous here,” he growls, rage seeping through every word. I feel my eyes moistening again and I can’t bear to look at him. I’m terrified now. I don’t even know what I’ve done wrong. I pull myself back up to the bed and ball up in the corner.

  “I’m not trying to tease you Doyle, I’m sorry. I’m just…nervous. I don’t want to do anything we’ll regret,” I whimper, using the edge of the sheet to wipe off my face. I gasp for air a few times and feel all of the alcohol in my body swish around. Please please please, don’t throw up. I blink my eyes and try to remember where I am and how the hell I got here. I feel a hand on my back, ice cold against my sweaty skin.

  “Just relax. You’re so damn tense all the time,” he says, making small circles and doing his best to regulate my breathing. I’m so exhausted. I just want to sleep.

  “Doyle, I’m tired…”

  Without waiting for a response, he fervently kisses me—tongue pulsing in my mouth and digging into my throat. I start crying again because I don’t think I can inhale through this. He slams his body back on top of me and I feel my lungs get flattened and pushed out from my belly. He’s breathing roughly in my ear, his alcohol breath making me feel panicky just like it did when he got too close on the dance floor. I sob. This cannot happen. Please, if there is a God. I can’t deal with this right now. My head feels like it’s full of water now, just swooshing around where my brain should be. My vision is clouded over and I can’t make out the shapes on the wallpaper behind his head. I feel cold fingers run up the length of my leg, pawing at my underwear.

  This is going to happen whether I like it or not. I know it.

  “Doyle…” I mumble in between bouts of tears.

  My underwear is off now, and Doyle’s hands are fondling my naked body underneath my dress. His fingers poke and prod and I just know that that elusive tiger is going to jump right through the wall, maul me, and devour me. My arms are shaking. There’s a ringing in my ears, piercing through my brain and electrifying me to the point of being comatose.

  “Hold on a minute, please…”

  I hear him fumble with his belt and a zipper. His breathing is quickened and heavy. I keep my watery eyes focused on the ceiling, scared to look at what exactly he’s doing.

  Please God, if you exist, if you’re up there…Please.

  “Please…” I cry, not even realizing that I’m talking out loud.

  He’s back on top of me, and I feel his bare skin against me now. He’s gasping in my ear and kissing my neck again, but I can’t move. I can’t do anything to stop this. It’s already happening.

  “Doyle…” I say, my voice sounding like an echo a thousand miles away.

  His hand comes up to my mouth and he rests one of his dry, scaly fingers on my quivering lip. “Be quiet,” he hisses with such intensity that I want to throw him against the wall and run.

  But I don’t.

  I don’t know how.

  “No, please no, not right now…”

  I bite down way too hard on my lip, and my mouth fills with blood. My heaving sobs are the only sound filling the room now.

  I wish I could just die.

  I gasp for air when I feel him enter me. It hurts and I let out a dismal whimper that’s not even audible to his serpent ears. He just grunts and continues to move his body, back and forth on top of me. I lock my eyes on the intricately patterned wallpaper behind his head. Two farmers dance around a group of goats, waving their arms in the air and smiling down at me. I don’t think I’m crying anymore. Sweat is beading up between our bodies and my dress is sticking to me like masking tape. I’m gone now. I’m not in my body anymore. I’m sitting at the desk by the window, watching it all happen.

  Look at that idiotic girl. She finally got herself into a situation she can’t talk her way out of. What a fucking whore.

  I let my head fall to the side and notice that black tears are smeared all over the pillows. But my face is numb so I don’t even know if they’re still flowing or not. That girl that looks just like me is pointing and laughing.

  Back on the bed, underneath this beast, my corpse forces its lifeless eyes closed.

  “Are you upset that I’m going to the same college as you? I don’t want you to think that I’m following you or anything.”

  “But you are, aren’t you?” Owen says, flashing a smile that’s razor-sharp with victory.

  “Don’t be an ass!” I squeal as he picks me up and tosses me back into the sand. We’ve been sneaking out to the beach every night this week. The sky is dark and heavy with the threat of summer rain, so no one was brave enough to come out and build a bonfire. It’s just us, completely alone with nothing but the quiet hum of lapping waves and the entire universe sprawled out above our heads. “You’ve been insisting since graduation that I go to Fisher!”

  “Yeah, I know,” he purrs into my ears, unbuttoning my shirt. I hold my breath and relax my mind for what’s coming next. His fingers rub across my boobs and I lose control of my hands. We paw frantically at each other and before I realize what’s happened, we’re both naked on the beach. I think he feels my body turn into stone.

  “You’re still not ready, huh?” he asks with the slightest hint of disappointment in his voice.

  I slap my hands over my face. “I’m so sorry Owen, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.”

  “You know you have nothing to be afraid of, right?” He collects my clothes and pushes them back into my hands.

  “I know,” I whisper into his lips.

  “Well, we are not going to rush. I want our first time to be amazing, Maura. And I have absolutely no problem with waiting for that moment to come.”

  He squeezes my fingers and I feel the whole world melt away.

  “I’ll wait forever for you.”

  Ten minutes later Doyle rolls off of me with a thud and falls asleep.

  00:00:02.883

  I deserved every shitty thing that happened to me.

  I was such a reckless waste of a human being.

  Ever
yone is going to be so much better off without me.

  00:00:02.664

  That fleeting moment of hope

  “Why are you working with me?”

  This is my fifth meeting with my abominable middle school ‘buddy,’ and every session has been excruciating. Instead of engaging in an enlightening conversation with me about his life and the way he deals with it for my Adolescent Psychology project, he has instead done the following: drawn on my sweater with permanent marker, shot a rubber band at my face, called me an asshole, stormed out of the classroom and ran across the street to the grocery store where he proceeded to steal a bag of candy, and called me a bitch. Needless to say, it seems as though this fifth and final meeting will result in the same outcome. I will officially be failing my first final of my collegiate career.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Well you don’t seem to really like me.”

  He’s a genius, this one.

  “I have to work with you. It’s for a class project.”

  He starts to pull at a scab on his arm, and I can see the blood starting to form around his grubby fingernails. I close my eyes and take the deepest breath possible. For once, you are the adult in this situation, Maura. Do not let him get the best of you. And just get your fucking project done.

  “You’ve been dubbed the class bully by your teacher, Marcus.”

  I state very matter-of-factly, bringing my pen to my notebook and forcing this kid into an engaging conversation—whether he wants to or not.

  “It figures. Stupid bitch.”

  “Um…what?”

  “Did I stutter?”

  I want more than anything to open my mouth and lash out at this little bastard, but instead I take a few deep breaths—1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. I close my eyes and imagine myself in a far better situation than my actual reality.

  This is totally manageable. I am going to be a responsible, fun, and enlightening almost-counselor. Marcus will love me and call me his favorite person ever and six years down the road when he’s graduating and giving a speech to his peers he will take the time to personally thank me for being his greatest inspiration. I will make a difference in this asshole child’s life.