43. Lydia #2
“No bathroom here,” I murmur, not opening my eyes.
He chuckles. “Yeah…I can see that. Are…are you high?”
I crack one eye open. “Maybe.”
He walks in slowly, standing over me, and the way his eyes scan me feels all weird and predatory. But I’m too gone right now to care, so I just let it play out.
“You’re really pretty,” he says, staring at the lower half of my body.
I feel exposed all of a sudden. He hovers over me, and the smell of alcohol on his breath makes me gag.
Before I can register what’s happening, his mouth is on mine.
At first, I don’t know how to feel about it, and then I think, whatever, right?
Why not? I was probably going to find some stranger to hook up with tonight anyway.
I try to kiss back, but my mouth feels a little numb, and my head is swimming.
The contact is gone, and I look up to see him closing the door.
Something shifts, and my heart skips as the fear rises to my throat.
I can’t move. I can’t stand. Not the way I should.
My limbs feel underwater. Then he’s back on me again.
Hands roaming everywhere. It’s all too much, too fast, too rough.
He’s kissing and touching me while whispering something about helping me ride the high.
I lie there limp.
When I hook up with someone, I want to be present, to be able to enjoy it—this isn’t enjoyable. When one of his hands makes its way under my dress, the baggie falls from my underwear. He holds it up in the air, looking at it and then looking back down at me. “Oh, you’re a real little junkie, huh?”
The smile on his face makes me want to vomit.
I feel the bile rise in my throat, and I force myself to swallow it back down.
All I can do is watch him, take in his movements, try to process what’s about to happen.
I manage to shake my head, trying to tell him no, but he just laughs, taking in my state and probably realizing he can do anything he wants right now.
I don’t want this. I try to make my arms work, try to push him off, but my strength is gone. My body isn’t listening.
“I don’t want to—,” I mumble, but he ignores me, kissing me harder.
I start to panic, breathing too fast. My mouth feels like cotton.
The kissing is so uncomfortable, and I can’t seem to get any air.
My body starts to buck, trying to get him off, but his hands quickly move to hold me down.
He uses one hand to hold both of my wrists above my head, and then he leans down into the curve of my neck.
“Relax,” he tells me.
As he lifts my dress up all the way to my stomach and moves my thong to the side, my body goes slack.
Tears run down my face, and I try to force my brain to shut off, but flashes of Eli forcing himself into me fire off in my brain as I close my eyes.
I feel the pain like it’s happening now, but when I open my eyes, it’s not happening—not yet.
The guy stands up, taking himself out of his jeans, and then leans back down on top of me.
Even with my throat feeling raw, I manage to get a scream out, making it as loud as possible, hoping someone will hear. “Stop!”
He places a hand over my mouth, trying to silence me, when the door opens up.
He turns to look over his shoulder and tells the guy to get out. When I don’t hear the guy say anything, I think he actually did leave. I start sobbing, thinking that my one shot at being saved just walked back out.
Stop. Please.
All of a sudden, the guy is off of me, and I hear him zipping his pants up.
“What the hell is wrong with you, man—”
Are they still in here? Please still be in here.
The breath I was holding breaks through my cries.
I scramble to shove my dress back down and push myself up to get a better view.
When I look over, I see fists flying. I move back further onto the bed, scared as I watch the violence unfold in front of me.
I hear fists continue to meet flesh, and watch as the guy who just walked in has my assailant pinned to the ground.
“You disgusting piece of trash!” he yells as he hits him over and over again.
He pulls him up by the collar of his shirt, and all I see is pure rage in his eyes to the guy. “You get off on raping girls at parties?” he yells with his face inches from the guy’s.
“She—she wanted it, man.”
He slams him back down onto the ground, hard. “What part told you she wanted it?” he asks, “Huh? Was it her tears she was crying, or her screaming at you to stop?”
I can’t see the guy anymore as he lies on the ground; all I can see is the guy on top of him.
I hear pained moans before he starts to hit him again.
I’m physically shaking, not able to calm myself down.
The pure fear and shock have completely killed any high I was feeling.
The effects are still there, but none of them feel good anymore.
Someone else rushes into the room, pulling the guy on top off.
The guy on the ground doesn’t get up, and I don’t hear any noises from him anymore, which tells me he’s either unconscious… or he’s dead.
When I look up, I recognize that it’s Mason—a frat guy we’d met a couple of times from Simone.
Then I look to the guy who just saved me.
I stare at his hands—bloody and bruised—then move my eyes up to his blood-stained shirt and slowly raise my eyes to meet his.
My brows furrow, and I blink through the fog.
I know him. Where do I know him from?
He stares back at me, breathing heavy. There’s this look in his eyes; it looks like anger, hurt, and sadness all in one.
I don’t fully understand it, honestly. We’re all just frozen in place…
not saying anything. People start to crowd the open door, trying to see what’s happening, when suddenly, Simone, Lani, and Sandro push through.
“What the fuck?” Sandro says, standing there, taking in the scene.
Mason grabs Simone. It looks like he’s worried when he sees how upset she is, but Simone pulls out of his hold to get to me. She and Lani rush over to me on the bed, and Simone pulls me into her arms. She looks up at Mason. “What happened?”
Mason shakes his head, just as confused as all of them. “I don’t know…I was headed to the bathroom when I heard a commotion like someone was fighting. When I walked in here, Bash was beating the shit out of this kid, and I pulled him off.”
Bash? Why does that sound so familiar?
Sandro looks over at the guy lying on the floor. “Is he…dead?”
Mason bends down and checks his pulse. “Nah, just knocked out,” he says, looking at him for a second longer. “Probably needs some kind of medical attention if you want my professional opinion. Definitely gonna need some stitches.”
Mason winces and stands back up.
“Someone get him the hell out of here,” Sandro shouts.
Mason nods and turns to the crowd of people outside the door, pulling another guy in to help him. They both take one end of his unconscious body and carry him out of the room.
Lani looks over at me. “Lydia, what happened?”
I just shake my head, unable to speak. I try to open my mouth, try to say something, but I can’t. I see the tears swelling in her eyes, like she knows…whatever happened here…wasn’t good. She looks over to her brother, still desperate for answers.
Sandro turns to Bash and gives him a silent, questioning look.
I watch as Bash clenches his fist. He looks over at me, like it’s my decision, even in this room full of people and an obvious scene; it’s my choice if I want it to be said out loud or not.
I nod, and he gives me a sympathetic look before speaking.
“I was…looking for an empty room, and when I opened the door…” he trails off, diverting his eyes from me and looking at the floor, “he…he was holding her down…and he was on top of her…while she was screaming.”
I feel Simone tighten her hold on me, and both she and Lani gasp at the same time.
Simone leans her head down to whisper to me. “Did he…did he…?”
I shake my head to tell her no.
But would it be that much worse if he did?
Yes, the physical pain was avoided…but what I feel right now in my head?
It feels just as painful. I want to burn every part of my body that he touched.
I want to make the helpless feeling go away.
The control I should have had over my own body… once again ripped away from me.
My body feels paralyzed. I can’t feel anything, and I don’t know if it’s the drugs, or the fear, or both. I look back to Bash, and the cloudiness in my mind slightly fades. I finally place where I know him from. He’s the guy from the library.
His eyes soften on me. “Your name is Lydia?”
His voice is so soft, and comforting, and soothing. I love the sound of it.
I nod.
“Are you okay, Lydia?”
It feels like it’s just me and him in this moment.
The fear I had for him just moments ago—watching how violent he got—suddenly disappears.
I don’t know what this feeling is now. I don’t know if it’s the lingering drugs still talking, or what, but I feel tethered to him in this moment, maybe even since the first time we met…
I feel this strange connection I’ve never felt before, and he’s a complete stranger…
but it’s like our souls know each other even if we don’t.
These drugs must be really good. Our souls know each other? Lydia, what the fuck?
I would laugh if this weren’t such a seriously fucked up situation.
I snap out of the trance and shake my head no. What’s the point in lying? I’m not okay. But let’s be honest, I wasn’t okay long before this night ever happened.