Chapter 3
Three
Briana
“Oh my God. That was so fucking fun. Did you guys not have a blast?” Desiree asks as we make our way back to our house.
I’m shaking violently and looking in every direction. Scared out of my mind. Unnerved beyond belief. Is he following me? Lurking in the shadows?
Luckily, I’m not required to answer. The three of them prattle on and on about the guys they flirted with, the fruit punch, and the dancing. They don’t seem to notice I’m two seconds away from losing my composure.
“Oh, hey,” Ronie suddenly interjects, twisting around in front of us to walk backward like she did on the way to the party. “Did you guys hear about the freshman prank?”
“No. What prank?” Taylor asks.
Ronie’s face lights up as she starts talking.
“So, supposedly, there are these guys who like to scare freshman girls at the beginning of every school year. Like, I heard they grab them, pull them into a dark corner or behind a bush, and say filthy things to them. Some girls end up peeing themselves out of fear. Nobody’s ever caught the guys. ”
Desiree gasps. “Holy fuck. That would scare the shit out of me. Can you even imagine?” She glances first at Taylor and then at me.
I shake my head. I have no idea how I school my face, but I must do a good enough job because none of them seem to notice my distress.
“How do they know it’s more than one guy?” Desiree asks.
Ronie shrugs. “Rumor has it that it happens at multiple locations on random days during the first few weeks. I guess they’ve pieced together enough information to know it’s not always the same guy.”
My teeth are chattering, but it’s not cold out here. I just want to get home, go to my room, and shut myself inside. I need to be alone.
I consider telling them that the rumor is true because it happened to me, but I don’t feel like talking about it. I’m too shaken up. Exhaustion is tugging at me. The last thing I want to do is answer fifty questions from my housemates about every detail. And what if they insist I tell the police?
No. Bad idea. He made it clear that I was not to talk about our “chat,” as he called it. I’m going to obey him.
Apparently, not everyone does, though, if there are enough rumors of these incidents that it’s common lore.
And who am I kidding? It’s not lore. I just experienced it.
The good news is, hopefully, it was a one-time thing. He grabbed me, scared the fuck out of me, and let me go. Ronie didn’t mention it ever going any further than that. If anyone had been seriously harmed, it would be widespread knowledge.
Taking deep breaths, I remind myself it’s over. I hate that it happened to me, but it’s over.
Except I’m struggling to believe I’ll never encounter him again. He didn’t pick me at random. He stalked me. He knows where I live. He knows what’s in my fucking underwear drawer. Granted, that part was a guess. It wasn’t an unreasonable guess, either.
It shouldn’t surprise me that I look innocent. I am. The fact that it’s written on my face isn’t shocking.
I’m beyond relieved when we enter the house. Ronie locks the front door. “Should we eat ice cream?”
I shake my head. “I’m exhausted. I’m just going to go to bed.”
“Okay. I hope you had fun. You’ve been really quiet,” Taylor points out.
I force a smile. “I had a great time. I’m just tired.”
Desiree gives me a quick hug. “See you tomorrow.”
As soon as I’m inside my room, I close the door, lock it, lean against it, and slide to the floor.
There’s a good chance my legs weren’t going to hold me up much longer.
I’m shaking violently. Even this long after I left the pantry, I still feel like I might hyperventilate.
Granted, it’s only been about twenty minutes.
The guy told me to go home immediately, and I wasn’t about to disobey his order.
No one noticed me coming out of that dark space. When I stepped out, the house seemed louder, the people more drunk, the music more annoying. Somehow, I managed to find my roommates quickly in the front room, and thank heavens, they were all ready to leave.
I’m grateful that the house we’re renting has four separate bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. If I had to go to a shared bathroom to pee and brush my teeth right now, I might not be able to maintain my tenuous composure.
After sitting on the hardwood floor for a long time, I finally manage to stand and make my way on wobbly legs to my bathroom.
I don’t turn the light on because I can’t stand the idea of seeing my face right now.
There’s enough light coming in from a small window above the shower for me to pee and put toothpaste on my brush.
A street lamp outside sends bright streams of light through that window at night.
Shaking as if I’m freezing, I strip out of the clothes I borrowed from Desiree and drop them into the hamper. I’ll wash and return them to her. I’m sure as hell never wearing them again.
It pisses me off that some man has shaken my world to the extent that I’ll never dress provocatively to go to a party. Hell, I can’t imagine ever going to another party. Or stepping out of this house to go to class. Or being able to sleep.
I’m traumatized. How the hell am I going to get over this? Wearing nothing but the cotton panties my assailant guessed I had on, I hurry to my dresser, pull out a long T-shirt, and shrug into it.
When I climb into bed, I’m still trembling badly. Also, my mouth is dry. I never drank anything all evening. After pushing to sitting, I grab the stainless-steel bottle I keep on my nightstand and suck down half the water through the straw. At least I won’t wake up with a dehydration headache.
But who am I kidding? Waking up would require me to fall asleep first. That isn’t going to happen. I pull the covers to my chin and stare blankly at the ceiling.
My room would be darker if I shut the bathroom door. Leaving it open gives me the stream of light from the tiny window. I’m not sure I can tolerate total darkness. My anxiety was already high from the move and life changes, and it just multiplied by a hundred tonight.
Taking deep breaths, I try to calm myself. It’s not possible. I keep hearing his voice in my head.
“You’re so vanilla you’ve probably never had a man pull your hair, have you, princess?”
“Were you hoping to get fucked tonight, princess?”
“Tell me about your panties, princess.”
“I bet no one has ever touched this pussy, have they, princess?”
He won’t stop taunting me. I roll onto my side and pull my knees up. His words were so filthy. He said things I’ve never imagined anyone saying to another human being.
He said them to scare me. I understand better now that I’ve heard the rumor. Rumor, my ass.
I can still feel his fingers teasing my thigh. In fact, I can still feel the slight burn from where he slapped my leg. I reach for it now and rub the spot. Why does the memory of him touching me make me feel tingly?
Even squeezing my eyes shut doesn’t block out the multitude of sensations he evoked. His fingers grazing my neck and down to my cleavage. His lips on my ear. His warm breath hitting my skin. His arm banded tightly around my waist, his forearm pressing the underside of my breasts.
But what stands out the most is his rough fingertips against my thigh, so close to my sex. My pussy. I shiver at the way he said the word pussy. So dirty.
Stop it, Briana. He’s getting to you. It was just a prank. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You’re lucky it was only a stupid freshman joke. You’re not hurt. He didn’t touch you intimately. Not really. It was a game. A stunt. It’s over.
Rolling to my side, I pull open my nightstand drawer and grab the bottle of melatonin. I try not to use it too often. I worry about growing dependent on it, but it does help me sleep. I pop one in my mouth, down some more water, and slide under the covers.
What I need is sleep. But I need my mind to stop racing so I can accomplish that. I’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.