by Taylor Hyer
He let go of my shoulder, but his body was blocking the entrance into the bathroom; consequently, there was no way I could get around him. I went to turn away, but he grabbed my hand and moved me back toward him. “Where are you going? I haven’t seen you in so long.”
“How did you find me?” I asked.
“I wasn’t looking for you,” he replied.
My bones ached.
My body was covered in goosebumps.
How was it possible that we were in the same place? In the same state? Three hundred miles away from where we used to live?
“You don’t…you don’t live here,” I said, my voice still unsteady.
“It’s a great vacation spot,” his smile was slick, too confident; as if he knew something I didn’t. Like he knew this was where I lived, but how?
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” he said, “I didn’t know you moved here. I wasn’t looking for you after you left. Why would I want to find the bitch that lied about our sexual history? No one cared where you went after you left.” His words burned my entire body as they left his mouth.
He wasn’t wrong. No one tried to contact me after we moved away; well, they barely talked to me the few weeks up until we left. Everyone believed his story about me lying. “Slut” was spray painted on my locker the week after the party.
After my locker was painted over, flyers were hung up all over the school stating: “Parker will sleep with you…but only if you pay her $500 and let her pretend it never happened”. There was a picture of me lying drunk on a coffee table, my skirt lifted up provocatively, as I was falling asleep.
There were hundreds of colored pieces of paper around the school; I even noticed some in the parking lot, and on the sport fields. At first, I couldn’t tell my parents about it. I refused to tell my parents about it. Then, they started asking questions. I kept pretending that I was sick so I wouldn’t have to go to school, but you can only pretend to be sick for so long before questions arise.
I also couldn’t keep things from my dad any longer. He had been in the military for so long, and knew when someone was lying, especially his own daughter.
I still remember the day I told him the truth. It was exactly nine days after the incident occurred. I had skipped five days of school, and was starting to fall behind. My dad noticed how distant I had become; always spending my time alone in my room. Nothing pertaining to my family or school interested me anymore, and he became suspicious.
That night, he came into my room and sat at the edge of my bed. “P, you have to tell me what’s going on.”
“What do you mean?” I asked quietly.
“I know you aren’t sick,” he said. “You never get sick. I let it go on for a little bit, hoping it would simply get better for you, but now I need to step in. What is going on?”
I couldn’t lie to him anymore. I looked into his eyes, and could tell he was hurting. My pain transferred into his pain. I sat up in my bed and held my blanket tightly around my body. I was shivering as I began to relive that night. My dad noticed and moved closer toward me, wrapping one of his large arms around my shoulders.
“Remember when I went to that party last weekend?” I asked. My dad nodded, and I continued. “I went with Grant, and had too much to drink.”
The taste of his name made me sick to my stomach. I wasn’t proud of telling my dad that his under aged daughter was drinking, either.
“We started kissing, but I didn’t want it to go any further,” I said, my voice shaking. “He didn’t have the same idea, though.”
I went through that night, unable to keep my composure. I could feel my dad trembling beside me, his body temperature rising with every word I spoke.
“I’ll kill him,” my dad said fiercely.
“Daddy,” I cried, “stop. Everyone at school thinks I’m a liar and everyone hates me.”
My dad stormed out of the room without saying another word. I heard his loud footsteps stomp down the stairs.
I faintly heard my mom say, “What’s wrong?” Her words were almost drowned out by the sound of my father slamming things all around the kitchen.
I quickly ran downstairs and sat on the steps, watching my dad as he moved around the kitchen. There was a panic in my mother’s eyes as she watched my dad pace between the kitchen and the dining room. She noticed me sitting on the stairs and carefully moved toward me.
I had to tell my mom the story over again, causing my throat to tighten even more. I felt like I was losing the ability to breathe with every word I spoke. “I need water,” I said once I finished the story, scratching at my neck.
My mom froze in disbelief for a few moments, then realized I was speaking to her. She swiftly moved to the kitchen and grabbed me a glass of water. My father hadn’t stopped pacing. I could hear him breathing as if he had just run a marathon. I wished I could have some of his breath since all of mine was disappearing as each moment passed.
“Why is he pacing?” I asked my mom when she handed me the glass of water.
“I think he’s deciding his next move,” my mom said slowly.
My dad went to the school administration, and even spoke to the police. Our principal couldn’t expel him because he wasn’t arrested or tried in any way. The police didn’t arrest him because they had no proof. There were no witnesses. Everyone that was questioned told the police that I “had a habit of bending the truth”. Everything was dropped, and I was even more of a joke for trying to get others involved.
No one believed me. It was my word against his. There was no justice for what was done to me. I was just another drunk girl at a party that could barely say no. I was just another statistic. I was raped, but I was being forced to suppress the truth all because some popular guy got his way.
◆◆◆
As he stood in front of me, some two years later, my body still ached. My throat dried up, and it felt impossible to speak. My body temperature changed as my emotions moved from fear, to anger, to hatred. Sweat began to form near the corner of my eyes.
“What are you doing out here all alone?” he asked, leaning toward me.
“She isn’t alone,” a voice from behind me said sternly. I turned and saw RJ standing tall with his arms crossed against his chest.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Her boyfriend,” RJ replied. “Who the fuck are you?”
“The name is Grant,” he smirked, revealing only half of his teeth.
I began to move toward RJ, but Grant grabbed one of my wrists, pulling me back to him. I bumped into his rock solid body, causing me to lose my balance; sending me crashing to the floor. My knee scraped against the carpet, sending a burning sensation through my body. I was too nervous to even let out a slight whimper of pain.
Before I could even think about getting up off of the floor, RJ was in Grant’s face, fuming. His fists were clenched tightly by his sides, and even from where I was sitting, I could tell he was breathing unevenly.
“You get off on touching other girls inappropriately?” RJ asked, his voice steady.
“Just on your girl,” Grant replied arrogantly. He licked his lips provocatively toward me, causing him to not even see the fist that was swung in his direction.
RJ’s fist met Grant’s cheek bone at a slightly lowered angle; since RJ stood a few inches taller. A crowd began to form around all of us as I hurried to my feet.
“RJ!” I whimpered, finally finding my voice. “RJ, please stop.”
There was no way he heard my cry for him though, since the audience of the fight grew larger and louder as each second passed. For the most part, RJ was winning, as he had the size advantage. RJ was able to block most of Grant’s attempts, and countered with full forced punches to the face and rib area.
Blood was moving down Grant’s face from two different spots, and RJ’s right cheek began to bleed after one of Grant’s strong punches connected.
It didn’t surprise me that no one was trying to break them up. There were many phones out, no doubt recording the alte
rcation. I knew better than to insert myself into a full on brawl, as I was half their size and probably would have been at the end of an accidental haymaker.
I knew the adrenaline was causing RJ to tune out any outside noise. They were now fighting on the floor, rolling around and throwing as many punches as they could. After a few minutes, a few larger men pushed their way through the crowd. Two of them pulled RJ off of Grant and held his hands behind his back.
“Someone take him!” Grant yelled. “He just attacked me for no reason.”
“You touched my girlfriend, you mother fucker,” RJ yelled, trying to squirm out of the grasps of the large men.
“She liked it,” Grant laughed. “Especially two years ago.” Grant winked at me as he said this.
Just then, I realized RJ had no idea who he was beating up. He didn’t know our history. RJ thought a random guy had simply been hitting on me. He didn’t know that this was bringing back all of my past trauma. Chills were running up and down my body. Sweat was beating down my forehead.
RJ’s eyes widened as he looked from Grant, then back to me. I could visibly see the anger rising in his body as he sprung loose from the men that were grabbing him. He lunged toward Grant at full force, as if he were trained to be a linebacker and not a wide receiver.
“You son of a bitch!” I heard RJ yelling as he continued to punch Grant. No one was able to pull him off after this. “You raped her!”
The large crowd that still occupied our space moved their eyes toward me now. It felt like thousands of eyes were shooting heat at me. Couldn’t they lower the AC a little? The sweat was really flowing at this point.
“She’s a little lying bitch,” Grant hissed. “She wanted me.”
I couldn’t find my voice anymore. I wanted to scream, “Fuck you” or “I hate you,” but a simple whimper came out as I tried to speak. I didn’t want him. I wanted nothing to do with him, but it was too late.
RJ
I could feel the blood pooling in my mouth. I had been knocked down plenty of times before, and had been a little sore every time; but this time was different. The adrenaline was surging viciously through my body. I couldn’t feel anything, aside from the hatred I felt for the guy in front of me.
He was just like Parker had described him. The problem was, he reminded me of myself. He was clearly athletic; the typical jock type. His shirt was just a little too tight, and his hair didn’t have a piece out of place. His smirk was just like the one I used to give to other girls. It said, “I can have you whenever I want and I know it.”
At that moment, I was more disgusted with myself than anything. I felt like I could throw up, thinking about the pain that I put other people through; thinking about the pain that Parker went through. I would never touch someone without consent, but I knew my motives to get the attention of other girls wasn’t always acceptable.
My stomach was turning as I was still trying to pummel on the punk in front of me. At that moment, I knew I couldn’t stop. I was already in too deep. In my mind, if I stopped beating on him, it meant that he won. What he did to Parker needed to be addressed. Years later, and she still had nightmares. She still flinched if someone reached for her too quickly. He needed to pay.
Justice needed to be served. Why was there no justice before? Why didn’t anyone believe her?
Before I could get another punch in, I felt two strong hands grasp both of my arms. I had only ever felt a grip like that when I was wrestling with my brothers. I turned to see Leighton pulling me backward. His strength was unmatched; I couldn’t get away.
He pulled me away from the crowd and shoved me into an empty chair. Leighton held me down as I moved erratically. It was no use; it was as if I were glued to that chair. My vision started to blur as the anger filled my body.
“Let go!” I screamed. “I have to end him.”
“Rayne,” Leighton protested, “that’s enough.”
“Leighton, you don’t understand!”
“I do understand,” Leighton replied. “Parker called me. You remember her? Your girlfriend? She’s been here watching you beat the shit out of that dude for like twenty minutes. How the hell didn’t anyone separate you two?”
“No one could,” I said sternly.
“Then how come I could pull you so easily?”
“Shut up,” I said. “Where’s Parker?”
Just then, Parker’s small body squeezed out of the crowd. Her face was a deep shade of red, and she was running toward us in a panic.
“Leighton!” she screamed. “It’s Landon! Grant grabbed him and punched him in the face. Now no one can get Landon off of him.”
Leighton moved quickly away from me and pushed his large body through the crowd. “Landon!” I heard him yell from across the room; his voice always carried like an echo whenever he spoke.
Parker was breathing heavily in front of me. I started to move from the chair, but she looked at me with her deep ocean eyes, and I melted back into the seat. I was lost at sea again.
“Baby,” I said softly, reaching my hand out toward her.
She hesitantly moved toward me. Parker reached for my cheek. It was still bleeding, and I began to feel the impact of the blow as the adrenaline slowly receded. “I’ll get some paper towels,” Parker said, barely audible.
She turned around, not waiting for my response. A few moments later, she returned with a few paper towels in her tiny hands. She lightly set them on my face, gathering the blood. I cringed as the pain began to really surface.
“You’ll have a black eye,” Parker said, keeping her eyes on the paper towels. She couldn’t even look at me. She was disgusted with me.
“I lost it,” I said. “The idea of him touching you made me sick. Then, when I found out who he really was, I exploded.”
“I’d say you exploded before then, too,” Parker replied.
“I know,” I turned my head away. “Thinking of someone hurting you really gets to me. My entire body was burning up. Every rational thought left my mind, and all I was thinking about was saving you.”
“Who said I needed saving?” Parker responded. “When did I ever ask you to help me? Does it seem like I need someone else to save me? I have been doing just fine without anyone for over seventeen years.”
“What would he have done if I hadn’t walked up?” I asked.
“We are in a public place. What could he have done?” Parker responded.
“That party was public enough,” I said sternly.
“You’re right,” Parker said, “but I was stupid and went into a private area where no one could see. I wouldn’t have gone anywhere with him today.”
I stood up and lifted Parker off of the ground. I set her right back down and stared at her. “It’s that easy for big guys like us to pick you up and take you away.”
“I can take care of myself!” Parker said, and then she stormed off, disappearing into the crowd of people. I did the same so I could figure out what my brothers were doing.
As I pushed through the crowd, people began to walk away and spread out. The fighting was over. Leighton and Landon were brushing themselves off after getting off the floor. As I got closer to them, I didn’t notice any visible bruising on their bodies. I couldn’t see Grant anywhere either.
“Where’s the punk?” I asked.
“Ambulance,” Leighton replied.
“The police came and said they needed to call our parents to come pick us up though,” Leighton pitched in. “One car is waiting outside until they get here.”
“Shit,” I scoffed.
“Dad is going to kill you,” Leighton rested his hand on my shoulder with disappointment.
“Care to explain how the hell this happened?” Landon asked. “You’re bruised pretty badly.”
“Yeah, bro,” Leighton pitched in. “You’re a bit hot-headed at times, but you’ve never actually fought a stranger before.”
I turned away, knowing I shouldn’t tell them what really happened. “He just got on my nerve
s. He was hitting on Parker, that’s all. It was irritating.”
“You don’t just kick the shit out of someone because they got on your nerves,” Landon said. “He has to go to the hospital, RJ.”
“I can’t tell you,” I said. I thought about how I yelled: “you raped her” in front of that entire crowd. I embarrassed Parker, and brought up even more of her past without even meaning to.
“I don’t understand what is happening here,” Landon pitched in.
“I couldn’t tell you,” I said. “I had to respect Parker’s privacy.”
“Tell us what?” Leighton asked.
Parker appeared from behind us and spoke up, “That guy you all were beating up? He raped me two years ago. During my freshman year, we dated, went to a party, and he just wouldn’t stop. Everyone said I was lying. I was bullied, and we had to move. Nothing happened, and I just needed to forget about it.”
Parker spoke quickly. She seemed numb from reliving the story again.
“Wait,” Leighton stopped. “We just let a rapist live?”
The words sounded sour as they left his mouth.
“He got away with it,” Parker spoke up. “I was the joke of the school. The class slut. We had to move because of him. I lost everything because of him.”
The words quickly flowed from her mouth. There was a sudden braveness within her that I had never seen before. Her eyes were fierce, and she was standing with a newly discovered confidence.
“I wish they just killed him,” Parker said loudly. “People like him get to live, but my mom gets murdered simply for sharing her passions.”
The confidence turned bitter. She was no longer sad about her past, or about her mother’s murder; she was angry. An anger I had never seen from her before. She was so small and fragile, but in that moment, I saw nothing but strength. It wasn’t a strength you gain from working out for years; it was the inner power you get from finally realizing your worth. She was in pain, that was obvious; but she was healing in a way that proved she was the toughest and most amazing human I had ever met.
I reached toward her and wrapped one arm around her waist. She moved closer to me, allowing no space between us. I leaned down and whispered, “I’ve never seen someone so strong.”