Stones' Diary: Built for Pressura'

Chapter 12.) What Now?

Sometimes when life gets hard, you either fold under pressure or keep on fighting. In this sticky predicament, Assyria found herself trying to recall how to walk as the world seemed to be whirling around her. She had no idea what was going on. Falling into the deep end. Or was it moreso that she was pushed? Blurry vision. The air seemed thicker than usual. Her head was pounding. Heart racing. Her body felt mysterious as she found herself sitting against the back of the bar building.

Were things supposed to sound so deafening yet distant at the same time? Were voices supposed to hurt? Was blinking supposed to hurt? Where were her legs? Her feet? Was she dreaming? Inebriated? What was happening? Questions that she needed answered but couldn't seem to hold onto the second vomit came.

Was she sick? Why was she so hot? It was cold as hell outside. Was it the liquor? It couldn't be. Liquor wouldn't have you seeing unicorns. Unicorns? Assyria stared at the dumpster. Was she tripping? There was no unicorn. Why did the world seem so small all of a sudden? Was she still breathing?

Checking her pulse, she released a sigh of relief. She was alive. What in the hell happened? The backdoor to the bar flew open and a few people stumbled out. Crouching between the dumpsters, Assyria thought to run until the girl seemed to be trying to run.

Was she ok? Was she in danger? Assyria kept watching. One guy kissing on the obvious drugged woman's neck, the other lifting her dress. Assyria became tense. Was she supposed to say something? Were her eyes playing tricks on her or was this real?

"Ok... wait... stop, guys seriously," the young woman struggled to fight the men off as they became aggressive.

"Oh no," Assyria whispered, wanting to move but her feet wouldn't let her.

"Stop it... please!"

Closing her eyes when they stripped her, Assyria covered her ears trying to drown out the cries. She wanted to help. She knew she should have but then what? She'd be in the same situation, right? She said stop! Why doesn't anyone listen when someone says stop?!

What was wrong with this world? Why was taking sex such a game to people? Why was taking a person's rights, their body, such a turn-on for others? What was fun about that? About rape? How was this ok? What was funny about this? Why wasn't anyone helping?! Why wasn't she?

With tears in her eyes, her hands shaking, Assyria remained in her spot staring at the woman as she cried. Trying to put her torn clothes together. On her. She didn't want that. She made it clear. But they wouldn't stop!

Sitting there for what felt like hours but was only ten minutes after, Assyria pulled herself up once the woman disappeared. Should she go after her? What if someone sees her? Would it happen again? Was she next? Concerned, Assyria began to walk until her name was called.

Wiping her face, she turned around and stared at Freya, "Huh?"

"Come on,"

Looking behind her, Assyria sighed before following Freya. Two clubs, more music, and alcohol later. Assyria found herself forgetting about what she witnessed. Dancing. Letting the music move her body. Flow through her veins. Laughing with people just like her. It made her feel good. She felt special. Important even. But then, the fear came.

She couldn't speak. Freya was guiding her to the bathroom. At least that's what she assumed. Did she have to pee? Did she vomit on herself? What was going on? Did somebody finally catch onto her fake ID? Why did the music seem so distant? So fuzzy? Where was she?

"Put her over there," she heard a voice say.

Soon, her body was lifted then lowered. Was she home? In a bed? Why did the room seem so dark? Assyria tried to move, tried to speak but couldn't.