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lobster-peach · 4 years

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The Girls Bathroom

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Part 1

Part 2 -

This is a short story I wrote for my 10th grade creative writing class and I thought I'd share:)

*trigger warnings*

Eating disorders

Mental disorders

Drug/alcohol use

Violence

Child predator/abuse mention

Implied suicide

Another night without sleep. It’s growing less uncommon now. I’ve taken so many things to help me sleep, you’d be surprised that something hasn’t worked by now.

My window is open. I’ve always liked it that way. It lets the night time air into my room, and it fills my lungs with the sweetest scent, that if it were bottled, I would keep it on me at all times. I’d be the girl people would ask what perfume I was wearing. I’d be the one they complimented. I’d be the one they talked to, in an admiring way.

The smell reminds me of my childhood home. It reminds me of the smell of a thick and damp forest. It reminds me of the silent happy times. I let the night breeze create ripples in my curtains.

And It’s peaceful.

It’s peaceful to watch a force of nature calmly move something as simple as a sheer white window curtain to the beat of its own rhythm. To make it move like it’s dancing in water.

I’m writing all my thoughts down again, like I do every time my mind won’t sleep. I’ve noticed that everything feels so surreal at these times. Everything is quiet, the moon is the only light source in sight, the wind making the only other movement besides myself, and the world is still. I lay on my back and stare up at the ceiling, just stare and think about the world, and about life. Stress comes and goes at these times but it usually doesn’t stay that long.

I think about my family, about myself, about strangers. I wonder if strangers do this too? Do they wear themselves out in the adventure we call curiosity?

I keep asking questions until I finally fall asleep to the sun peaking over the mountains.

...

I haven’t been to school in weeks. I haven’t actually left my room in weeks either, if you’re not counting the trips to the bathroom. I feel like I've just been a whirlpool of emotions. One second I feel fine, and the next I feel like I’m in someone else’s body, wanting to scream. But today- today is the day I’m changing that.

I get up, take a shower, and apply the minimum amount of makeup I actually have.

No one is awake in the house, so I slip out without a sound.

If I’m honest, I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to go to school now, because the second I stepped through the glass doors, I was bombarded with shouts, shoves, and the smell of axe body spray. But right as I was about to turn around, get back into my car, and drive far, far away from this hell-hole, the vice principal noticed me. I saw the shock, and excitement light up in her eyes.

She made a b-line for me.

There was no escape.

...

After an hour or so of sitting and listening to her gush about how much the school had missed me, and that if I "Ever needed anything to come talk to her, or any of the school faculty", I was able to leave her office. If I knew that I would get this bombarded with unwanted attention, I would have never left my house in the first place.

I would just dwell in the thought that I would have to make a living becoming a fast food worker, or selling my body to Sin City herself.

But that would still be better than this.

...

The brick walls of the school seemed to piss me off even more than they used to now. They seemed to mock me, to make me feel like even more of a failure, with their posters of encouragement and activities. I headed into the girls bathroom to take a breather. Everything starting to kick in. I dashed into a stall and let my empty stomach empty itself even more. Nothing had actually happened to trigger any sort of panic, and I hated myself for it even more. I hated the fact that I couldn't be around people with no filters. I hated that I couldn't sit still in class. I hated that I couldn't just be normal. And now I'm just sitting on the floor trying not to think. But then I hear a knock, and a voice, gently, and quietly asking if I'm alright. My eyes widen. I don't know why I didn't think I would be the only one in a public highschool's girl's bathroom. Theres a part of me that hopes if I stay silent then whoever it was on the other side of the door would go away. But the voice comes back a second time. Still quiet, still gentle, but more urgent. Sounding like they were actually worried. Coming to the conclusion that I can't hide, I stand up and open the door to see one of the school's cheerleaders, Vanny. Her real name was Savannah, but everyone only ever called her Vanny. She looked as surprised as I was when she saw who was standing in front of her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bother you. I just heard.. gagging, and I wanted to make sure that whoever it was, was alri-”

I quickly cut her off.

“It’s okay! Really!”

Wow, I sound flustered.

“I just needed to let some things…uh… out.”

She let out a small breathy laugh at that.

“Yeah, I can tell.” she said

I can just feel the temperature in my cheeks raise at record breaking speed. My internal panic growing with it.

“I- uh- sorry…”

God, I'm a mess.

She lets out another laugh at that, but this time something that looked somewhat like sympathy showed in her eyes.

“Don’t be sorry. Really. I get it. It happens to me too.”

I gape at her a little.

But not so much that she would notice. Or at least I hope I so.

What on earth is happening.

But before I can even finish that thought, she's speaking again.

“I haven’t seen you around all year. I didn’t think about it that much till now. Do you wanna talk about it?”

She didn't wait for an answer and made her way into the handicap stall and sat against the wall. She just gestures for me to do the same. Part of me wonders if this was some kind of joke. If she had people outside the girls bathroom just waiting to torment me. But against my better judgement, I sit. I can't figure out how I am supposed to act, sit, or even breath. Is there even a right way to handle this?

She begins talking about her history with depression and anxiety. And normally when I hear someone say they have it, it’s not actually the “real deal” if you will. It’s just someone who thinks that it’s the end of the world when something unexpected and bad pops up in their life.

And I know it sounds terrible to judge a person like that, but it's just how things tend to be around here.

But she, she wasn’t like that.

She tells me everything. How she can’t sleep at night, so she goes on drives. And how she finds that puking her guts out, nasty and as toxic as it seems, feels a little like a release. She tells me about her “friends” and how much she wishes that she could talk to them about everything that’s going on. She just tells me everything. Every feeling she gets. Every reason a tear sometimes slips from her brown eyes.

Everything.

I didn’t know that a person could feel the same way I did. I didn’t know that I could understand a stranger more than myself in just 30 minutes.

These talks become a regular thing for us. After our second period classes, while the rest of the school left for lunch, we would go into the girls bathroom on the second floor. Into the handicap stall on the far right. And we would talk about everything.

Vanny was kind. She held the door for me when we were together, she spoke to me like a real person rather than a joke, and she felt like home. There were days however, where she didn’t talk to me. She would send me apologetic glances from across the room so I tried not to think too much about it. I understood. She had a reputation to uphold. And I wasn’t apart of that. If I was, everyone would think of it as a joke. That she was just getting close to me to make fun of me. That was the part I worried about.

I just wanted to mean something more to her than that.

I just wanted a friend.

Everyday that I spent with Vanny lead me into a deeper spiral of what I would call bliss. It was almost like, any trouble I had, any insecurity I had, she could instantly wash away with one look.

...

I was stopped at an intersection driving home from school, when I noticed the people in the car in beside me were fighting. I didn’t want to invade their privacy, but then I noticed who was sat in the passenger seat. Vanny. The guy, was much older. Dark grey hair, and stubble across his chin. He had his hand on her thigh. I couldn’t see what his expression was clearly, but I had a pretty solid guess. Vanny looked very uncomfortable, she slapped his hand away and said something with her brows furrowed. The guy just laughed and put his hand back. She tried to push it away again but the guy wouldn’t budge.

I decided to try calling her to make sure she was alright but the phone went straight to voicemail. I started to panic. I didn’t know what to do. I started to roll down the window and shout but the light finally changed to green and the car sped off. I wanted to change lanes and potentially follow them, but I couldn’t with all of the traffic of eager teeangers wanting to go home after a long day. I tried to try calling a few more times, but failed to get any sort of answer.

My phone was hot from being pressed to my cheek for so long. I got home and the house was empty once again. This time though, my heart sank. I didn’t know who to ask about what I should do.

Me, in my panicked state decided to call the police.

I started blurting out everything that happened but it didn’t help. Without the guys name, plate number, or address, there was nothing they could do besides go to Vanny’s house and see if she was there and OK.

I couldn't sleep. My mind was racing with all of the possible things that could be happening right then to my Vanny.

No.

Not my Vanny.

Just Vanny.

I got a call from the police station just hours later. They told me she was safe at home and that I had no reason to worry.

Everything was fine.

...

I still however rushed to school the next morning, calling and texting her trying to get some sort of insight to if she was really alright. I kept tapping my foot all through my first two periods. My mind couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than the thought of Vanny.

She needed to be okay.

What felt like years of waiting for that wretched bell to signal my release from this prison of unmatched bricks and books, it rang.

I all but ran to the second floor bathroom. And let me tell you, I have never been so happy to hear someone crying. I knocked on the door precisely six times to let her know it was me. I heard her shuffle and stand up. When the door unlocked I rushed in to hug her.

Her face was tear stained, but her eyes were empty.

We sat down and I held her.

Everything just felt... wrong.

I didn't know how to ask her what happened.

I didn't know if I even should.

She felt so fragile in my arms, that I was scared I would break her by saying anything else.

We sat in the bathroom in silence for the rest of the day.

I just let her cry.

At the end of the day I offered to take her home but she fervently said no.

I took her to my house instead, only so I could make sure she was safe.

...

The car ride home was quiet. I was waiting for the right time to ask her about what had happened but I still just didn't know how.

She had stopped crying hours ago but she kept the same empty look in her eyes.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye, just staring at the passing houses.

Her brown hair falling over her shoulders like silk.

I finally spoke up.

"Savannah, what happened?"

She jumped at the sudden sound of my voice.

I couldn't tell if she was going to answer or start crying again.

She was so unreadable.

But her dry lips parted, and her voice rasped out.

"My..."

She breathed out, sounding so wounded.

I had pulled the car into an empty grocery store parking lot and faced her.

"My stepfather... tried t-to...."

She couldn't finish. Her eyes welled up again with tear and she broke.

Her face buried in her hands.

I didn't know what to say.

So many thoughts were racing through my head.

I couldn't speak.

I just stared at her completely horrified.

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out.

She lifted her face and looked me in the eyes.

"Please don't tell anyone."

"Vanny we have to call the cops we-"

"No!" She yelled, I had never heard her yell.

"Promise me you won't tell anyone. Not your family, not any teachers, not the police."

She was urgently begging me.

"Vanny I can't just let this be. This is serious. He needs to be put in prison for this-"

"Please." She said once more.

"Please."

I looked at her.

Red, wide, eyes staring deep into my soul.

"I-I can't..."

...

I called the police once we got to my house explaining everything.

They got a warrant to search Vanny's stepdad's things and found digital folders of child pornography. They didn't have enough to charge him with the assault, but the files were enough to put him away.

When it happened, Vanny didn't speak to me for weeks.

She was convinced I had betrayed her.

But she eventually came back.

#wlw advice #wlw aesthetic #wlw blog #wlw mood #wlw post

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