#corvussempervirens | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

corvussempervirens · 3 years

Text

Chapter 16: 2009

“don’t worry, i’m with lynn and tricia. have a good night, i’ll see you tomorrow babe” I text him. God he’s fucking clingy. Who cares if he just graduated and I’m only about to be a junior? That doesn’t mean he’s it for me. I just turned sixteen, after all. And quite honestly, I’m already so fed up with what I’ve seen in this world so far.

I have been cutting myself for the last couple of years, like a fucking idiot. Some weeks more than others, sometimes in obvious places because i’m sick and like to watch the way people react to the scars. They know exactly what those wounds mean, but most people just turn away. It’s pretty brutal, honestly, how we can all just go through this life acting like looking away makes terrible things disappear. Again - i’m fucking sick of it all.

That’s why I decided to go out with Lynn and Tricia tonight. They understand the rage against this bullshit system: after school activities, pep rallies, and standardized tests. They actually see the faults for what they are. Plus, they know how to have a good time. So that’s what we were on our way to do tonight - to have a damn good time. Tricia met some guy online and they had met up to smoke before, so we know it was going to chill. Nothing to worry about.

Pot was never really a thing I saw myself doing, but now that sophomore year is over, I’m a full blown stoner. This summer, Lynn, Tricia, and I have spent a lot of time finding different places in the hills to smoke weed. Lynn has long beautiful blonde hair that straight up glows in the summer sun. She is pale white and sometimes, when I’m super baked, I imagine that I’m being driven around by an angel. Tricia has short brown hair and a body that she knows how to use. She is the one constantly pushing me over the edge. I’m awkward. Long hair, long legs, absolutely uncomfortable in my own skin. But they just brought me under their wing, a year older than me, and showed me the ropes toward becoming a different person, a new Lucy.

When I met Tricia in class last year, I was tired of Sunday school, soccer practice, and pretending like this world isn’t a piece of shit. So we started hanging out, and I was glad to leave it all behind. All my friends judged the hell out of me last year, but it’s been months now and I don’t really care anymore.

Tonight is the first time I am going out to a party that isn’t full of my boyfriends senior friends. Dan is great, and he treats me like a queen, but he thinks I walk on water. I’m not the person that he thinks I am. Parties are starting to get a little dull with him there; appearing suddenly when I’m dancing and other guys start to notice, or reminding me not to smoke too many cigarettes, and to drink water. it’s fucking obnoxious. He doesn’t understand the self hatred and anger that I’m harboring. He can’t see how I’m closer to losing it each day.

Tonight is going to be different. I can do whatever the fuck I want, and I know that Lynn and Tricia won’t say shit to anyone because that’s just the kind of girls we are.

Ultimately, I know exactly what I’m here for: to get fucked. Dan and I have been together for almost two years, and we’ve fooled around, but I haven’t had sex with him yet. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because he’s too perfect for me and I’m worried he’ll get too attached. Either way, it was time for me to get laid.

Before I know it, I’m being led into a mobile home by a few guys I don’t recognize. Doesn’t seem like a great party, but whatever. Inside, there’s barely any furniture and everything has a stench of smoke and dirt to it. I look around and notice a tall dark haired guy sulking in the corner of the kitchen.

“’Sup, Paul!” some guy in a red t-shirt and Dickies says to the tall guy.

“’Sup” he says back, taking cigarettes out of his pocket. Marlboro 27′s. Good taste. He scans past the Dickies guy and looks at Lynn and Tricia. Lynn nods her head and waves, playing it cool like always. Tricia walks up to Paul and hugs him, thanking him for letting us be there. I don’t say anything because most guys stop at Lynn and Tricia, and I usually find my way to the booze asap.

One of the other guys, in a black v-neck and black pants, starts playing music. Sounds like some random hip hop artist I don’t recognize, but the buzz of the bass instantly makes things less awkward. He has semi-long hair that covers his forehead, a strong jawline, and you can tell he skateboards by his shoes. Must be Marvin, Tricia’s guy. Her type to the tee.

As everyone starts to mingle, and other random people begin to trickle in, I hunt for the liquor. Soon, I notice that the alcohol is being served by Paul, so I walk to him, arm and cup extended.

“Anything for the poor?” I ask him with a smile, shaking my cup at him. Fuck it, he is cute after all. Green eyes. Yum.

He smirks. “I might have something for you somewhere.” He reaches for the tequila and begins to make me a drink. I notice his broad shoulders, and the fact that he’s actually a lot taller than I realized earlier.

I’m wearing short khaki shorts (like literally half my ass hanging out) and a black crop top so my belly and breasts are showing as well. Normally, I would never wear anything this revealing, but Tricia said that I’ve spent most of my life being a soccer player, and that I need to start taking advantage of the body it’s given me. I can tell that Paul would agree with her by the way he is looking at me.

He hands me the drink, and I reach for it. He pulls away, “Ah, not so simple, beggar.” He flashes a big smile. Okay, that’s it. “Maybe a simple round of truth or dare to receive your drink?”. He looks me dead in the eyes, mischievous as hell. Fuck it.

“Okay, fine.” I say. “But, you’re completely wrong if you think I’m going to tell you anything about myself. So dare. Obviously.”

He looks ecstatic, like he was hoping I would say that. “Excellent. I dare you to take this molly with me.” He opens his palm and shows me two white pills. He wiggles his fingers a little when I don’t respond right away. “So?” he asks. “What do you think?”

I’ve never done molly, but I’ve seen my friends do it several times. I’m not sure why, but before I know it, I’m reaching for the pill. I look up at him. “Well, I’m going to need my drink in order to take this down”, I say to him. He smiles and hands me my drink. He picks his cup up, and we cheer.

Ecstasy was definitely not on my to do list for the night, but I take it and begin to drink a few mixed drinks with Paul. Soon, Lynn is there, also getting a drink and I tell her we had taken a molly. Paul immediately brandishes a new one and offers it to Lynn, palm outstretched.

She takes it without a drop of hesitation, and then begins to take shots. “Fuck yeah!” she yells, beginning to dance, running her fingers through her blonde hair.

She’s always surprising me, because most of the time she’s sort of quiet, but then when you get to know her, she’s a fucking tornado. We have a lot in common that way.

I look over at Paul, beginning to feel the liquor really set in. I also start dancing, occasionally looking at him and biting my lip. Moving ever so slowly, closer to him. He just bobs his head and watches me, sipping his drink. Pretty soon, I’m about a foot away from him, dancing but not touching him. I act like I am going to lean into him, but instead I reach around him, and grab the Jose Cuervo. Sometimes, I can be good at this.

The glass bottle gleams in the air as I drink straight from it. This time, when I try to return the bottle smoothly around him, Paul grabs my hips and pulls me up against the counter. Pressing his body against mine, swaying his hips to the music. God this feels good. Nothing has ever actually felt this good before. Is this the molly? We stay like that for awhile, just running our hands on each other’s bodies.

Soon, I’m leading Paul down the hall to an empty room. Lynn happens to notice, and follows us inside. I push Paul onto the bed and straddle him, feeling his body under mine. I continue to grind my hips against his body, in time to the music. I don’t think he minds. Soon, Lynn is kneeling next me and starts pulling me away from him... okay? “What are you doing Lynn? We’re busy”.

She grabs my waist and pulls me close. “I just want to make sure you have the best time possible.” She whispers into my ear. “You need to kiss him like you fucking mean it. Like this,” with one arm pulling my ass into her body, and another one grabbing my neck, she forcefully kisses me. And, she like, fully devours me. I feel her tongue in my mouth, her hand squeezing my ass, and her fingers tighten around my throat all at the same time.

Holy shit, Lynn. I have never been kissed like this. I feel electrocuted, and instantly I feel my pussy get wet. Is this the molly? She lets go, and grins at me.

“See what I mean? Make him lose his fucking mind, Lucy. Nothing matters anyway.” She gets up and walks out of the room, yelling when she gets to the hallway: “Shots bitches!!!”. People cheer in response.

I turn to look at Paul. I could feel every part of me vibrating. His cock pulsing under me, his hands running over my breasts, pulling my nipples. I could see his hunger for me.

Holy shit, Lynn was right. This feeling is all that matters. Fuck Dan, fuck school, fuck church, and apparently, fuck being straight. Who cares who I fuck, what I smoke, what drugs I do?

This feeling is fucking amazing.

#short story #realisticfiction #yafiction #writers on tumblr #corvussempervirens

0 notes

corvussempervirens · 3 years

Text

Chapter 23: 2016

The phone rings and clicks. I hear Lynn’s voice coming from the speaker. It’s weird, it’s been at least two or three years since we’ve actually spoken. “Hello?” she says, clearly confused to be getting a phone call from me. At least she answered.

“Hey,” I say, my voice cracking because I’m weak as hell. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t know who to call. Kat moved away, and I just don’t really know who to talk to.” I say, unsure if I should continue.

“Yeah, it’s cool. Are you okay?” She asks. Her voice sounds the same, like we are 17 again, drinking Four Loko’s in the back of the school, not 23 and jaded by the terrible decisions we’ve made.

“He fucking cheated on me dude. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Everyone fucking hates me for dating him to begin with, and I just need someone to talk to.” I say, trying to keep my voice even.

“I know.” She says. “Do you want to meet somewhere?”

I don’t say anything at first. Of course she knows. His fucking baby mama sure has a way of making sure everyone knows every part of our relationship. I guess it’s what I get for inadvertently falling in love with someone’s boyfriend. I guess all of this is what I get.

“Top of the hill?” I say, referring to our old smoking spot in the town we grew up in. “30 minutes?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you there.” She says, and hangs up.

I smoke at least five cigarettes on my way over there, playing my memories over and over again:

Alex, my cheater boyfriend, asking me if I was coming home. Me, deciding to stay at my parents instead of our apartment because we have been fighting over everything lately, and I’m tired of it. So, I tell him that I won’t be home, but that we could talk about things later on during the week.

I text him after work, and he doesn’t respond. A few hours go by, and still nothing. My heart starts accelerating, and I have a terrible feeling in my stomach. I play it cool at my parents, but once everyone goes to bed, I feel the inexplicable sensation that something is wrong.

I drive home at 3 am, and as soon as I enter the hallway to the building, I know something is clearly not right. I hear people fucking, and I am 100% positive that one of those people is Alex. I walk to the door to our apartment, and I can hear every movement, every grunt, and every moan from a woman that is clearly not me.

I wish I could say that I walked in, and called him out. That I ripped him from her arms, and beat the shit out of him. Instead, I just went back to my car and cried and drove around all night. I come back to the apartment to watch her leave at 6 am. I confront Alex. Scream, yell, curse, grab his phone and get the mystery woman’s number.

He begins to get angry and yells at me that I’m fucking crazy. That I deserve this. That I am no good for anyone, and that’s why he fucked her.

I leave.

I smoke pot until I finally call Lynn. 27 hours awake now.

At the top of the hill, I park my car and wait for Lynn to get there. I roll another blunt and begin to spark it when she finally gets there, 10 minutes late. Of course. She gets out of her car and walks toward the bench overlooking the bay. She’s wearing black pants, a black shirt, and black make-up. Nothing much has changed about the way she looks except that now she has tattoos, and somehow has became more angelic in appearance. Her beauty has always stunned me, even though I’ve known her for close to eight years at this point.

“Smoke?” I say to her, handing her the blunt when she sits down next to me. She shakes her head. Okay, that’s new.

“Nah, I don’t really smoke anymore. How are you doing?” She asks, looking at me closely.

“Well, not great.” I begin to tell her about what happened the night before, how our relationship had been on the rocks for months, how I confronted the woman and asked her how long she had been seeing him. How the woman was shocked to find out that I exist. I told her how Alex had been cheating on me with this woman for months, and that the woman had actually started moving stuff into our apartment, and that Alex somehow managed to keep it all from me and her.

She sighed and cursed at all the right places, clearly angry at Alex. She grew up with him too, after all. She told me how they had talked a few months ago, and that all he did was talk shit about me. Like he wasn’t the one that pursued me after I told him countless times that we should not date. She mentioned how he had been badmouthing me for weeks, and that he had been talking to his baby mama about the fact that he had been seeing other women behind my back.

My heart fucking explodes like a can of soda that’s been shaken. I don’t know how to feel. Everything about this is terrible. The fact that he did it, the fact that I saw it, the fact that I thought he would treat me differently. Then, a sudden feeling of rage towards Lynn begins to manifest as well. If she knew this months ago, why didn’t she tell me?

Her and I suddenly stopped being friends three years ago. One day we were friends getting drunk and smoking weed, and then she just fucking ghosts me. No word, no text, no call. Nothing. I try reaching out to her a ton at first, but after I hear that she’s hanging out with everyone but me, I get the message. I stop trying to figure out why, and I move on. Even though that happened, we have been through so much together. We have seen each other through the worst. She couldn’t pay me this courtesy?

I keep smoking. Lynn doesn’t say anything. I think she can tell what I’m thinking. She always can. “Well, fuck.” I say, unsure of what to say or how to feel. I become aware of how tired I am, how empty I feel. “How are you?” I ask her.

She begins to talk to me about her relationship, and all of its problems. She tells me about her family, and about her struggles. She tells me that she’s trying to be a better person, and that she’s trying to amend for her wrongs in order to move forward in life.

“Lucia?” She says, her voice shaking. Weird for her to use my full name.

I finally turn to look at her in the eyes. Her bright blue eyes are filled with tears, and are starting to get red even though she isn’t smoking.

“Yeah?” I respond.

“I need to tell you something.” She says, her voice now shakier.

“Okay,” I say, completely unsure that I can handle anymore.

“I fucked James.” She states, her voice a little steadier. Her eyes trying to read me.

“I know.” I say looking back into her eyes. “He told me.”

James is my ex-guy, not really boyfriend, but guy who had me at the palm of his hand from the ages of 16-21. He’s also the first boy to ever ask me out in sixth grade. James had told me about this though, on my twenty first birthday, when he decided to appear uninvited. We made out behind the house, and then he stopped and decided to tell me that we could never be together because he’s terrible, and fucked Lynn.

Seems like a great time for Lynn to remind me about this.

“Yeah, but I don’t think you understand Lucy. It wasn’t just once.” She says, pausing to put her hand on my knee. What the actual fuck. The way James told me, he made it seem like it was a one time thing. “We fucked for like a year. Lucy, he even tried to get back with you while we were still fucking. Then when you went back to him, we kept fucking.” She says.

I’m not really sure why she’s telling me all of this right now, but I’m so god damn tired and sad that I can’t even summon the strength to get her to stop. Lynn begins to map out all the different times they hooked up, how those times coincided with the same times he was trying to fuck me. How he told her all the same lines he told me, and how she had honestly fallen in love with him. She told me how she cheated on her boyfriend with James for a year, and how James made it a point to brag about double dipping between best friends to anyone who would listen. She tells me how all of this fucked with her, and that he’s the reason she abandoned our friendship.

By this point, I’ve smoked the blunt and another three cigarettes. I can’t breathe. Lynn just keeps talking about how she just wanted to tell me because she’s been bearing this weight on her chest for years, and that she can’t move on in her life with that weight bringing her down.

Now, I’m fucking furious. I’m furious at James for doing this to me, even though we have known each other since grade school. I’m furious that Lynn decided that this would be a great time to tell me all of this information. I’m pissed at the sheer selfishness that she is exhibiting by trying to clear her karmic debt at a time like this.

I’m fucking mortified at the way that these men in my life have treated me, and how I always seem to fall in love with people who are willing to hurt me. I’m depressed at how many people decided to stop being my friend when I started dating Alex. I’m basking in the information that Lynn is revealing, and this knowledge that I am so much more alone than I ever realize. I am so broken, so weak, so empty.

“Okay, Lynn.” I say suddenly, a little too loudly. “Thanks for telling me. I hope things go well for you, and this helps you move on. I’ll see you around.” I say to her, cutting her off from saying anymore. She looks flustered, unsure of what to do.

I walk away. I get in my car. I have nowhere to go. I drive back to Alex.

#short story #realisticfiction #yafiction #writers on tumblr #corvussempervirens

0 notes

corvussempervirens · 3 years

Text

Chapter 21: 2014

Eureka, California has been my new home for the last year. It’s not exactly the San Francisco Bay Area, but it has a lot of heart. The forests called me here once when I came to visit and I took mushrooms in the ancient redwoods. There was not a doubt in my mind about whether or not this coastal town would become my new home.

I came here to prove that I can function away from all the things I have allowed to define my existence.

I spend a lot of time in the forest, and I’ve begun to realize that no matter where I go, there I will always be. The same depression clinging to every centimeter of my mind.

To be honest, the only things that make feel anything are the fog, and Demetria.

The fog is absolutely inescapable, just like Demetria. Everywhere I look, there she is. Just like the fog. It’s not like she’s intentionally looking for things to cloud up, it’s just in her nature. To be everywhere all at once.

The difference between the fog and Demetria is that the fog makes me feel trapped, like I’m living the same day over and over again. Demetria, on the other hand, sets me free.

We met in our Introduction to Metaphysics class when I first transferred here. They had tucked us away into the oldest building in the Forestry department, because they never put Philosophy classes in the newer, nicer buildings. I walked in, and scanned the room. It had those really old metal and wooden desks from the 1970′s, green chalkboards, and disgusting linoleum floors. As I tried to figure out where to sit, my eyes fell on Demetria.

Wow. She was brandishing a white t-shirt, no bra. I tried not to stare at her nipples, and instead moved my eyes to her face. Her black wavy hair fell to the top of her shoulders, her round face was flushed pink. Her plump lips were painted in burgundy lipstick, and her hazel eyes were outlined in black eyeliner.

“Uh okay, are you just going to stare or are you gonna come sit down?” she said, squinting her eyes at me. Shit.

“Sorry. I just.. uhhh...yeah.” I stammered, completely caught off guard at the time. Flustered by how beautiful I found her and how quickly she made me lose my composure. I move and sit at the desk right next to hers.

“Wow, I thought we Philosophers were supposed to be eloquent with words?” Her voice was full of curiosity, like she actually wanted me to answer.

I just stared at her and kind of smiled, not sure of what to say.

“I’m Demetria.” She said, and I swear, it was like God herself had come to rescue me. “Are you new to the program? I haven’t seen you in any of the other classes.” She extends her hand across the aisle, each finger adorned with a different ring.

I grabbed her hand and felt my heart start spinning. “Yeah” I say. “I’m Lucia. I just... moved here.” God I sounded like an idiot. Always losing my shit around beautiful women. I can flirt with any guy and get him to fuck me within the hour. When it comes to girls, I always seem to forget how to talk.

“Lucia, huh?” She smiles and looks off to the distance turning her head upward. “Nice.” She says turning back at me and smiling open mouthed, hazel eyes looking into mine.

“Lucy is fine” I finally smiled back at her more confidently. Then, the professor walked in and began passing out the syllabus and talking about the properties of identity, and asking what it means to exist. We both looked away, but continued to sit next to each other the rest of that semester.

It was right around midterms during that last term that Demetria finally fucked me. We had been hanging out a lot together, and she had been helping me feel less depressed and homesick. We were out on her porch, sitting on a loveseat, and drinking Jim Beam when I told her all about my life back home. About James, and all the different ways he fucked me over. About how I became actually crazy about him. About how I always feel like I’m not a good person, and that my desire to die is never ending. About my fear of being who I really am around the people who used to know me. She just listened and stroked my back.

“You don’t have to be scared, you know?” She said, taking a drag from her cigarette.

“What do you mean?” I responded, leaning my head onto her shoulders. I inhaled her smell; the whiskey, the Camel cigarettes, the vanilla lotion she always wore. “I’m scared of everything. Dying. Living. All of it.”

“You don’t have to be, though” She pulled me away and grabbed my face in her hands. “Like about this, this doesn’t have to be scary.” She said, stroking my hair. She pulled me into her and kissed me. Softly, at first, testing to see what I would do.

Her lips felt like the only thing connecting me to life - perfect.

I lost it. Years of repression and self-doubt about my sexuality just completely disappeared. My hands reached for the back of her head and grabbed her like she could finally release this torment.

When she finally felt how badly I wanted her, she unleashed and climbed on top of me. She positioned her ass perfectly on top of my clit, and began twisting her hips into my body. Her tongue began sucking on my neck, she had one hand on my breast, the other traveling down my stomach. God.

After that, we’ve never really said anything about the type of relationship that we are, if we are serious, or anything. Like I said, Demetria is the fog. Everywhere, here, and there. She isn’t to be bound to a schedule or a season. She just exists, and I would never be the one to try and trap her.

We fuck a lot though. Demetria has taught me to be okay with the way my body can make me feel. Even with all the men I have been with, I have never fully felt like I could let go, but Demetria taught me how release. To make sex be about me and about the person who I’m having sex with. To feel pleasure and to feel good about feeling good. To be okay with my sexuality, and to embrace the beauty that it is to have sex with both men and women.

Now, a year later, I’m moving back home. I’m worried about being back around the same toxic people who I grew up with. To be within driving distance to the people who make me feel trapped in time. The thought of being near Lynn again, near James, and near so many reminders of my past freaks me out. I look forward to seeing Alex. We’ve been texting a lot, and I feel like I know I will always have a friend in him. Demetria says I need to be careful about taking too many steps backwards.

She helps me walk my bags over from her apartment to the Greyhound station. While we wait she holds my hand, and pulls me toward the wall, shoving me into it. Her hands pull my ass into her waist, and she starts kissing me. I’m going to miss her, and the freedom that she makes me feel. She pulls away, and looks me in the eyes.

“Don’t be scared, okay?”

#realisticfiction #short story #lgbtq #yafiction #writers on tumblr #corvussempervirens

0 notes

corvussempervirens · 3 years

Text

Chapter 25: 2018

Trigger warning: abuse

Please read with caution.

December

Fear is all I feel.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” I shriek at the police officer.

“Ma’am just stop resisting” The officer bellows, trying to grab my arm. I pull away.

Suddenly it’s twenty minutes ago and Alex’s hands are crushing my esophagus.

“I’m just gonna fucking kill you!”

He spits in my face. The sudden realization of what’s happening stuns me, and the police officer is putting handcuffs around my already bruised wrists.

“Why couldn’t you just shut up?” He sounds like Alex - bossy. “We weren’t here for you.” he says more sympathetically. Sighing, he leads me towards the car. I walk past the other cop car and see Alex glaring out at me, also in handcuffs.

September

It’s only about midnight, but I’m already well through my second bottle of wine. Alex is passed out already, almost immediately after fucking. I’m going through his phone again, even though I can barely read anything. This is how it’s been for the last two years: me fucking paranoid as hell. Alex always giving me a reason to be insecure. Me, too weak to walk away.

After years of hard work, tons of money, and a shit ton of tears, I finally graduated from college. Even though Alex has dragged me through the mud the last two years that we’ve been together, he’s supported me every step of the way. Financially, physically, and occasionally, emotionally.

When he cheated on me, everything about the dynamic of our relationship changed. I knew better than to stay, but I always have a hard time walking away from people I love. Most of the time, I’m scared of everything. Especially of being alone.

So now, it’s a work night on my second week of my new teaching job. It’s literally everything I’ve ever worked for, but here I am, looking through every single app and message on this fucking guy’s phone. I’m so fucking weak. So fucking pathetic. So wasted. I keep scrolling. There it is. Tinder downloaded, messages going through. Jesus fucking christ, why do I keep looking for things I know are going to destroy me? He’s got plans to see some chick after work tomorrow. I grab the bottle of wine and chug the rest of it down in one deep inhale.

“FUCK!” I yell at the top of my lungs.

Alex bolts up out of bed. “What? Lucy, Jesus. Are you still drinking?” He says, looking at me in nothing but a bra, panties, and holding the wine bottle. His look of superiority tips me over.

“FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! You stupid piece of shit, why do you keep doing this?” I scream at him, brandishing his phone.

He suddenly realizes what it is going on, and jumps up out the bed. His six foot frame towering almost a whole foot over me.

“What the fuck! Did you go through my phone again you crazy bitch?” He yells, reaching for his phone.

I throw it across the room and drop the empty bottle. His eyes follow the phone as it smashes against the wall, and then he turns to look at me. He looks at me like I’m the one that is constantly doing something wrong, like I’m the one who has to bend to his will, like everything that has ever been wrong in the world is my fault.

I throw my hands against his chest and begin pounding them against him as hard as I can. At some point, I close my fists and keep going.

What am I doing? Who is this person? How did I get this way? This has never been me, never in all my darkness have I hurt this bad. Have I felt this stripped of who I am. Trapped. Violent.

After what seems like minutes, he grabs my wrists. His hands could crush my bones. “STOP!” He begins to force me backward. “Fuck you stupid cunt!” He slams me, hard against the wall. I feel the light switch dig into my back.

“I didn’t spend my entire childhood being abused and fucking molested by my stepdad to have some crazy bitch think she can put hands on me!” He yells in my face, his eyes flashing like I’ve never seen anyone look before. He’s just grabbing me and slamming me to the wall over and over again.

“Stop!” I hear myself saying after while. “I’m sorry!” What the fuck? For what? God, help me. I begin to try and kick him off of me. He looks at me again. He’s gone. I don’t know who this is.

He throws me away from the wall, and I stumble backward, my soccer player legs finding their balance again. He comes toward me, I back into the corner. He closes his fist, and punches me, dead in the temple. “Stay the fuck away from my shit, crazy bitch.” He says. He walks out. I lay, curled on the floor. I should leave but I don’t know where. He comes back and goes back to sleep.

I stay on the floor, crying. Around 5 am, I text my boss. Tell her I won’t be in.

I don’t know what to do.

October

The last four weeks have felt like the most confusing days in my entire existence. Actually, I’m not even quite sure that I actually exist. No one knows about what happened. Not even Kat, the only person in the entire world who I trust with my whole soul. This is killing me.

At work, I pretend to be who everyone wants me to be. Luckily, I have the type of personality that most people like, and because no one knows me, I don’t have to try too hard to throw them off my scent.

I’m drinking like a fish. Like booze is the only thing that can keep me from feeling the full weight of everything around me. Alex is still texting other girls, occasionally throwing me reminders of how no one would ever want me, even if I was strong enough to leave.

I’m fucking him like a rabbit because sex and booze are the only things that make me feel anything at all.

It’s a weekday again, even though I can’t keep track of what the hell is going on between all the lies I have to tell everyone, including myself. Just keep drinking, just keep smoking, this isn’t real.

We’re fighting about some stupid shit again because that’s all we know how to do. Despite the fact that he had done that to me, I’m still belligerent as hell, and will not back down from an argument.

I’m sitting at the edge of the bed. I don’t even know what he just said anymore but I say, “Whatever dude, at the end of the day I know that you’re nothing but a scared little boy. Fuck you.” I don’t know why I say it. I think I want to hurt him like he’s hurt me. I turn away. All of a sudden, he’s flying across the bed, tackling me to the ground. He gets on top of me and pins me to the ground. “I’m so fucking sick of you!” He screams. “Why are you so annoying? Why can’t you just shut the fuck up? Fuck you!” He slaps me. His fingers find my throat and clamp.

I throw my entire weight forward, fighting him off. I try to run away, but he grabs me by the hair and pulls me back. This time he begins biting my back. Squeezing my bones. I know he’s trying to break them. I know it hurts, but somehow I can’t register it. I elbow him off of me and run. He grabs my favorite mug, the one Kat bought me in Eureka, and throws it at my head. I dodge it and it shatters into pieces, like every last bit of me that remains.

He chases me into the hallway, catching one more solid punch at my back before I make it into the bathroom. I lock the door. I hear him leave. I stay there all night.

At around 6, I call my boss. I tell her I can’t make it.

I don’t know what to do.

December

We’re at a holiday party together. I’m still living in this haze. If I pretend nothing is wrong, I’ll be okay. Still, no one knows. Most of the time, I try to act like it actually isn’t real and that I’ve made it all up.

I’m still just going through the motions, drinking to the point where it might be more effective to just hook me up to an IV.

They commend me for doing a good job at work. I’m such a fucking liar. Fucking pretender piece of shit. God I hate myself.

At the party, I’m wearing a black leather mini skirt, fishnet tights, black pumps, and a black cropped sweater. I did my hair so it looks nice and wavy, and my face is fully made up. I look sexy. Again, a fucking pretender piece of shit.

Throughout the night, Alex is putting his arm on my leg, around my waist, just hands everywhere. I try not to cringe. Guys keep looking me up and down, but I’ve come to believe Alex. You don’t want me, I think to myself.

Beer somehow just keeps entering my body. It’s almost incredible how quickly I can drown. We call an Uber. He’s all over me, but I push him off once we get in the car. We randomly begin to talk about what it would be like to start a business. I make a statement about bank loans that he doesn’t approve of. Here we go.

We bicker for a couple of minutes, and when we’re about 10 blocks away from our apartment, he suddenly slaps me across the face as I’m telling him that this conversation is stupid anyway.

The Uber driver slams on his brakes, and yells in Arabic at Alex. “Get the fuck out of the car!” He says right after. Alex looks pissed, but gets out anyway. The driver turns to me, “Do you want me to call the police?” He says, clearly mortified and wanting to help.

I’m cradling my face, scared. “No.” I say. “Just take me home, please. We’re almost there.” He looks unsure, but does what I ask. I have no idea why I can’t just find my voice and say something.

People see me as this intelligent, fierce force to be reckoned with. Fucking pretender piece of shit that I am. Weak, is more like it.

I walk upstairs. I know I have about ten minutes before he makes it back, and I know I should run, but I don’t know where. To my parents? Their star child, show up on their doorstep bruised, abused, and wasted? No.

I’m too drunk to drive anyway. I need to change. I take my shoes off. I hear the door open. Fuck. He comes in, and I yell at him to stay away from me.

He rushes me, thirsty for blood, to cause hurt. He throws me to the ground and begins punching me. Any physical place he can touch. I try to cover my face, but that just opens my chest to receive the blows. He gets up and starts kicking me in the ribs. I just cry as he kicks me over and over. I don’t know how long it lasts.

I summon the strength to try and crawl away. He grabs me from behind and puts me in a chokehold. I somehow break free, but his mouth is biting my arm. This time, even through all of the adrenaline, I can feel how much it hurts. How much all of it hurts. The acting like everything is fine, the lying to everyone, the fucking pretending.

My hands claw his neck, and he lets go of my arm. Somehow, he still pins me to the floor. He puts his hands on my neck. This time he’s really squeezing hard. This time he really might do it.

“I’m just gonna fucking kill you!”

He spits in my face.

I’m gasping for air, getting dizzy. Somehow, my hands find a shoe on the floor. I pick it up and toss it against his head. I make an athletic dive for my phone and run to the bathroom. I call the police. He runs out of the apartment. I hear the police get here really quickly. Alex just waits for them with his hands up as they approached him, guns drawn.

I go outside, barefoot. The police officer begins to ask me questions, I’m dizzy. I’m wasted. I feel all sorts of pain from so many places, but mostly I feel empty. This isn’t real. He asks to go inside. I tell him no, because I know that they will treat it like a crime scene, and I don’t know how to process that. He begins to comment on all of the bruises that are already appearing on my face and neck.

“Did he try and choke you?” he asks aggressively. “Because if he did, that’s additional charges”.

I shrug. Where is my voice? My arm reaches to cover the blood that’s beginning to spill from where he bit me.

“Is it okay for me to take pictures?” He asks, and reaches for me. I flinch.

No, absolutely not. It begins to dawn on me exactly what will happen after this. That I will have to testify in court, that these bruises will need to be documented, that I will need to speak up about this. I’m not ready.

“Never mind, just let him go” I say to the cop. He looks at me, clearly beat up, make up disheveled, barefoot. He’s incredulous, but clearly this isn’t his first time. He hands me a card that reads Domestic Abuse Hotline. What the fuck is this? I’m not a victim.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that ma’am. Once you call, we have to make a mandatory arrest. Especially when the victim is clearly showing signs of abuse.” He looks at me, and tries to reach out and console me.

Suddenly, I’m yelling at him, calling him names, crying and saying incoherent things. I refuse to go back inside. Another officer appears, and they try to manhandle me into my apartment, so I try to get their fucking hands off of me.

I’m tired of the hands on me.

I’m yelling and screaming. One of the cops finally lets go and says, “Fuck this! She’s not gonna fucking listen, then book her for being drunk in public!” he yells, and walks away.

The cop looks at me. He doesn’t want to arrest me, but an order is an order. Even if it means arresting and manhandling the woman who was just abused by her boyfriend.

They let me out of jail at 4:30 am. I go back to the apartment.

What am I supposed to do?

#shortstory healing triggerwarning realistic fiction corvussempervirens

0 notes