One Night

Prologue

It had been dark for days now. The young girl sat perched on the tip of her bed, her posture terribly flumped and her long dark brown hair covering the sides of her face. It had been hours since she had last gotten up and that was only to fall back down on the bed again. The truth was no matter how hard she tried she could not walk. Her legs felt like jelly and her heart was non-existent. Memories flashed back of how the dark haired man had chased her down the alley... how she limped home with blood dripping from the multiple wounds in her body. She remembered looking into the mirror and seeing two empty blue eyes staring back at her in the mirror. No one was there to stitch her wounds or to bring her back to some sort of sanity. It was just her and her one bedroom apartment, with loose floorboards that creaked with every step, clothes strewn on the heater and a broken lamp that had been the victim of her rage. The room was dark for days now the once translucent windows that had sunlight seeping through it were now covered by the dark clothed curtains. The stove was cool and unused; the small loveseat in the corner near the old TV was covered in cobwebs and looked as if it hadn't been sat on for days. The door remained locked and no one came in and she never went out. No one bothered to knock on the door to simply say "hi" or maybe they had and she was too far into herself to hear anything. The small black cased cell phone sat there for days in its charging dock where it had been for a long time, it occasionally pinged but, the girl never got up and never answered and at one point she couldn't remember when, it too died down, just like she had on the interior. There was an aura of anguish and screams being held back coursing through the entire room. The air was pervasive; she wore the same oversized hoodie and sweatpants she had worn when she had gotten home that day. In front of her bandaged feet lay the short white dress that had once been so beautiful but, now just laid there torn and tattered, it sat there mockingly as if it was trying to tell her that what had happened to her was her own fault and no one else's fault. "It's my entire fault," she repeated over and over again, "it's my fault, not his." The girl now wished more than anything that she hadn't worn that lacy white dress, hadn't danced the way she had, she wished that she had bought the average looking black dress her mom had almost succeeded in forcing upon her. She felt that it was her desire to be the prettiest girl at that last dance that messed up everything. Occasionally Arden got up to change the bandages. She moved in a robotic doll-like motion. At night she would try to sleep but immediately woke up after five minutes because, her own dreams haunted her so much and replayed that day. She felt conflicted, she did not want to remember that night but, she felt as if she deserved all this extra punishment. In reality all she had vied for was the affection of her peers, she had desired to become someone memorable. Yet, instead she became lost, not only to others but also herself. She wished for her phony friend Ashley to accept her fully and that boy with hazel eyes and black hair to love her. Only she realized a little too late that this love of hers was an unrequited one, there was just want not love. She felt like the world was against her. It was sad but she was right, the world was not there to witness what had happened, and afterwards no one came to check up on her. It was just her and the deep sinking feeling, her collar bones poking out, eyes sunken, hair tangled, and extremely disoriented. Her body was bruised and scarred in several places. And against her pink cheeks a purplish bruise could be seen. The fact of the matter is that Arden Taylor wasn't always this way, once there lived a girl with gleaming blue eyes and beautiful dark brown hair that reached her petite waist; she had the biggest smile, she was young and lively. One word, Rape.