31. Lydia
Lydia
I’ve never done real drugs before…but this feels better than any high I could imagine.
Being wrapped around another human, the close connection, the false intimacy, the fantasy you can create in your head when your eyes are closed…even when you don’t know the name of the guy you’re kissing.
When a damaged girl is left alone at a beach house party…what else do you expect her to do? Make responsible decisions? No. I’ve done that for long enough. I tried to be the good girl, and I still got hurt. I cared too much about what other people thought about me, and they still hated me.
Now I just want to stop caring so much.
Whatever this is I’m doing feels so much better. I feel light in this moment. I’m swaying with the music, letting the alcohol run wild through my veins, and being consumed by a boy I don’t even know, who’s coaxing this intense pleasure from me with every swipe of his tongue.
He stops kissing me and leans close, breath hot against my neck. “Let’s go upstairs.”
I pause, reality cutting through the haze just enough to realize how dizzy I feel. “Let’s just stay here,” I tell him, kissing his neck, trying to go back to my blissful, naive bubble.
He presses a little closer, lips brushing my ear. “We could have more fun upstairs. Come on.”
He stands and takes my hand, guiding me towards the stairs.
“No,” I slur. “I…wanna stay here. I like kissing you down here. I don’t want…to do…anything else.”
“You were kissing me like you did,” he tells me with a creepy smirk playing on his lips. “I bet you know exactly what you’re doing in bed, too.”
Vomit rises in my throat. I don’t know if it’s from the alcohol or from my sudden repulsion.
I pull my hand from his. “I said…no.”
He’s in my face now, grabbing my arm hard enough to the point of pain, voice low and frightening. “I promise to make it good for you. Come on, you can’t do that to me back there and not finish what you started.”
“I said no,” I repeat, louder this time, my voice shaking.
He jerks my arm roughly, leaning close, alcohol sharp on his breath. “Come on, stop playing hard to get. I promise, you’ll have fun.”
Panic sparks inside me, spreading rapidly. I search frantically around the crowded party, trying to spot Simone or Tyler.
Faces blur, strangers lost in their own moments. No one notices us. No one cares. The music drowns everything out around us.
“Let go,” I snap, yanking my arm away again. My chest tightens, panic and anger filling me. “I said no!” My voice carries above the music, and heads start to turn.
Tyler’s voice cuts sharply through the noise. “Hey, back the fuck off!”
Relief floods me as he pushes through the crowd, Simone close behind him. He positions himself between me and the stranger, shoulders squared protectively.
The guy raises his hands in mock surrender. “Chill, we were just having a good time until she started being a freak and acting crazy.”
The words sting, but I try not to hold on to them. I move closer to Simone, who wraps her arms around me.
“How old are you? Like twenty-something?” Tyler asks the guy, disgusted. “She’s seventeen! You’re the freak!”
“Yo, I didn’t know she was underage, relax, man. She was the one coming on to me.”
Tyler’s jaw clenches, fists balled at his sides. “But you knew she was drunk, you fucking creep. Is that how you like to get laid? Find a drunk girl you can do whatever you want with?”
The air grows tense as they glare at each other, inches away from violence. Simone tugs Tyler’s arm, and I can tell she’s worried. “Tyler, let’s go. He’s not worth it.”
Tyler hesitates, fury still clearly etched on his face, but he finally backs away, letting Simone guide us quickly out of the house.
The silence in the car after is loud. Shame churns in my stomach until I can’t stand it anymore. “I’m sorry,” I say, voice small, barely audible over the car’s engine and radio. “I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”
Simone twists around to face me from the passenger seat. Her eyes soften immediately. “You didn’t ruin anything. We just care about you being okay. Did…he hurt you?”
“No,” I whisper, shameful tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “It was fine… until he wanted to do more and go upstairs…and I don’t know…I got scared. I’m…I’m sorry.”
“We shouldn’t have left you,” guilt evident in her voice. “We just wanted to step outside for a second away from everyone and—”
“No,” I interrupt, desperate not to be the burden. “I was the one being stupid, kissing a stranger at a house party out of town with a bunch of people we don’t even know…I don’t know what I was thinking.”
The car gets quiet again, only the hum of the road beneath us, the faint music filling the space.
Tyler glances at me through the rear-view mirror. “Do you want to grab some food?”
I shake my head, exhausted. “I just want to go back to the room. I need to sleep.”
“You sure?” Simone asks.
“Yeah. You two should still go. Just drop me off.”
They share a look before Tyler nods. “Okay. But text us if you need anything. We’ll be close by. Just going to find whatever is still open within walking distance.”
“Promise,” I whisper.
Inside the hotel room, the silence feels deafening.
My phone buzzes in my hand—John’s texts piling up over the last few days, checking on me, asking how I’m doing, how I feel.
Messages I’ve left all unanswered, trying to forget the mess I made back home with my entire life.
I toss my phone onto the bed and let out a long breath, my heartbeat still a bit uneven and the alcohol slowly leaving my system, letting reality seep back in and pushing the numbness away.
I click the TV on, desperate for noise to drown out the whispers in my head, but the images blur, unfocused.
The room feels cold and empty. All I’m stuck with are my thoughts.
The anxiety takes over like always, too familiar and so unbearable.
I just lay there awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the dread creeping in.
Anytime it’s too quiet around, Eli loves to fill the space.
He’ll never give me any peace. Dead or alive.
I can’t even grieve the awful things he did without feeling this fucked up longing and sadness towards him at the same time.
Missing someone who hurt you is torture.
Hating someone who died is worse. Knowing he’s gone forever feels like freedom, yet that thought brings on guilt so strong that it could easily break someone who wasn’t already completely broken.
I don’t know how much time passes, but I still can’t sleep. The noise of the TV is the only company to my spiraling thoughts. I sigh in frustration as I lean over to my backpack and feel around for the pill bottle. I pop open the Xanax and pour one into my hand before swallowing it dry.
Slowly, it pulls me down. I feel weightless as it starts to quiet the thoughts, easing the ache just enough that my eyes finally close. But even sleep brings no real peace, only temporary silence.
* * *
I’m trapped in the same room.
It’s always the same room…Eli’s room. Pale gray walls, the football posters, the faint scent of cologne, and teenage-boy smell. The familiar feel of his sheets beneath me.
Something feels off, though. A thickness in the air begging me to get far away.
My pulse pounds in my ears, making the dread pool in my stomach.
I hear footsteps coming toward the closed door, and I curl into myself tighter, pulling my knees into my chest, trying to breathe quietly as if that’ll keep me safe.
The door creaks open, and Eli stands there. My breath catches looking at him. Instant longing and pain rush over me for the boy I lost, but then I look closer. His eyes look different. They look dark, and empty, and full of vengeance.
“Why do you always do this to me, Lydia?”
I flinch involuntarily, snapping back to the realization of danger. “What?” I whisper, trembling, barely audible even to myself.
He steps closer, getting in my face and narrowing his eyes at me. “Don’t play stupid, Lydia. You think I wouldn’t find out you’ve been sleeping with other guys behind my back?”
I shake my head, confused and terrified. “No, Eli. I haven’t—”
“You’re lying,” he cuts me off. He’s suddenly so close, towering over me. His presence is suffocating. “I know what you are, Lydia. Everyone knows what you are.”
I look up at him. “I swear I didn’t—”
His face changes the second I blink, shifting into someone else entirely—the boy from the party tonight.
His hands tighten around my wrists, pulling me forward, making my heart jump painfully as every instinct tells me to get out of here.
“No,” I choke out, thrashing, trying to get free. “Stop! I don’t want this!”
His grip only tightens, and when I blink again, Eli’s face is back, glaring at me with contempt.
“You never mean ‘no,’ Lydia,” he sneers.
“You just say it to tease me, to make me work harder. You say it because you like being forced. Don’t pretend.
You never stopped me before; now won’t be any different. ”
“No, Eli, please,” I beg, tears streaming down my face. I try to shove him away, but he doesn’t budge, trapping me and taking away any control I have. “Please stop.”
“You’ll do it if you love me,” he whispers, leaning close; his breath is hot and cruel against my ear. “If you’re not lying, prove it. Show me you’re not out being a whore and you’re only mine.”
“Eli,” I sob, desperate to make him stop. “Please.”
But he doesn’t. His hands are so rough, pinning me down, making sure I know he’s controlling me. I’m helpless and powerless under him.
The room spins around me, and I close my eyes, wishing myself somewhere else, anywhere else.
“Open your eyes,” he growls. “Look at me.”
Reluctantly, I do, but Eli’s gone again, replaced by the stranger from the party, eyes cruel and hungry, mouth twisted in a smirk. “You were asking for it, weren’t you? Kissing me like that. I know what girls like you want.”
I scream, but no sound comes out. I push and shove, but I’m too weak. I can’t even fight back.
“Stop fighting it,” Eli’s voice returns, harsher now. “You want this. You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”
“I’m not,” I cry. My voice is broken and small. “Please let me go.”
Eli’s face darkens further, voice dripping with venom as he leans closer.
“I can’t believe you would hurt me like this.
I thought you loved me the same way I loved you…
but as soon as I’m gone, you just move on like I was nothing.
Did you think I wouldn’t find out about John? My best fucking friend, Lydia?”
My breath catches painfully, the panic turning into shame. “No, Eli, please—”
“You really are a whore,” he says, spitting on me. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it. He can’t save you. Nobody can.”
“Please,” I whisper weakly, the fight draining from me. “I’m sorry.”
He leans in, close enough that I can smell the familiar cologne, the bitter alcohol, the weed, the rage pouring off of him. “It’s too late for sorry, Lydia.”
I thrash and scream, but he’s too strong. The pain comes. It’s sharp and too much to handle. It all blurs into this terrifying moment of agony and complete helplessness.
Then I see John standing in the doorway, his eyes wide, horrified. I reach toward him, desperately. “John—”
Eli’s laughter is cruel as he holds me down. “He won’t save you. He doesn’t care about you, Lydia. Nobody does the way I did.”
John looks away, leaving me drowning in this nightmare.
“No—John, please don’t go!” I scream, reaching toward the emptiness.
No answer. I’m just left alone with Eli’s laughter and my heart splitting open once again.
I wake up gasping and soaked in sweat as my body tries to come back to reality, but I’m shaking so badly. I sit up quickly, heart pounding, eyes scanning the dark hotel room, scared and all alone.
It was only a dream.
But the fear feels real. It feels painfully wrapped around my throat still. I collapse back onto the pillows, tears streaming silently down my cheeks. My phone buzzes, and I jump at the feel. I look down at the screen to see John’s name.
John: Hey, just checking in, making sure you’re alive lol
The guilt has been eating at me all weekend, even with all the forced distractions.
I hate how I’ve left him hanging, how I’ve purposely ignored him because I can’t just be honest enough to say how I’m feeling.
I don’t even fully know how I’m feeling, but if I tell him anything I’ve been thinking, it’ll just end up hurting his feelings, and that’s the last thing I want to do.
I can’t keep pushing it off, though.
Lydia: I am! I’m sorry I’ve been quiet all weekend. I just needed a little mental break and space from everything
He replies immediately, and honestly, I wish he weren’t so sweet, that he didn’t care so much. It would make this all so much easier.
John: I get it. Maybe I can see you when you get back?
I let out a long sigh before biting the bullet and just telling him the truth. No point in dragging this out any longer than I already have.
Lydia: Actually, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I think sleeping together was a mistake and something I just wasn’t ready for. I didn’t mean to drag you into my mess. You’re a really sweet guy, and I really did enjoy being around you. I’m sorry for fucking everything up
He takes longer to reply, and with every minute that ticks by, the guilt and shame grow louder in my head. When his text finally comes through, I feel the knife I just pushed into his heart.
John: Oh
Then another text comes through.
John: For what it was worth, I really did like you, Lydia. Mess and all
Ugh, I wish he weren’t so nice. He didn’t deserve this. Why couldn’t I stop myself from using and hurting him? Why can’t I ever just stop hurting and craving a fix for my heart…even at the expense of others?
Lydia: I’m so sorry, John
John: I understand. It’s okay not to be ready. I’m sorry. I hate that you regret it
I toss my phone aside, letting the tears finally spill out freely. The relief and pain intertwine with each other, fighting for which one should hurt more.