I wake up, it's a bad dream
No one on my side
I was fighting
But I just feel too tired
To be fighting
Guess I'm not the fighting kind
- Keane.
____________________________________________
After Shawn got a grip on himself, he brushed his teeth with his finger, swished mouthwash around in his mouth three different times to erase the taste that could only be described as ass, and combed his fingers through his hair. When he made his way down the stairs, he found Alex sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, a bowl of cereal in front of him and his face buried in a sports magazine.
"Well, good morning, Sun—"
"Call me Sunshine and you'll have one less nut," Shawn said.
"Touchy, touchy." Alex took another bite of his cereal.
Shawn groaned and lowered his head to rest on his crossed arms. The pounding felt like someone was using his skull for drum practice. "I feel like hell. Why'd you make me do all those shots?"
"You shouldn't make bets you can't win." Alex chuckled and pushed a bottle of water and some Advil across the counter. "Lightweight."
"You know I don't usually drink." Shawn fussed with the bottle of pain reliever until the child-proof cap finally popped opened. He dumped two into his palm and downed them both with water. The liquid hit his stomach and immediately made it start to churn. He grimaced and laid his head back down. He needed to remember this feeling, commit it to memory in case he ever had even a fleeting thought of being such a colossal moron again. No drinking. Ever.
"Could have fooled me. But you seemed like you were having fun. Especially during the latter portion of the night."
Shawn peered over at Alex, still keeping his head down. "What do you mean?"
"You know." He tipped his bowl up to drink the milk left in the bottom. "With the little brunette. Dude, I didn't think you'd ever come up for air." Alex got up and walked across the kitchen to deposit his bowl in the sink. "I've never seen you so all over a chick."
Shawn felt the heat drain from his face. He'd still harbored the slight fantasy that he'd imagined everything. Alex just shot that dream all to hell.
"Hey, man," Alex said, and moved closer. "You all right? You're not gonna puke, are you?"
Shawn drew in a breath and forced his rising panic to stop. "No. I'm just ... I don't remember much." And what he did remember, he wanted so badly not to be true.
"No shit?"
"No shit."
"Damn," Alex said. "How the hell much did you drink?"
"I have no idea." Shawn rubbed his hands over his face. "Tell me, though, what do you mean I was all over this chick?" He had a pretty good idea what happened in the bathroom upstairs, but wondered what he'd done in view of everyone else. And more importantly, what he'd done that could get back to his dad.
"You really don't remember?"
"I told you I didn't," Shawn snapped, his annoyance finally breaking through. "Just ... tell me, all right?"
"Fine, jeez," Alex said. "Well, I meant what I said. I've never seen you mack so hard with a girl. You were like practically dry humping her in the middle of the living room."
Shawn groaned and covered his face with his hands. He knew better than to drink. He knew it. Why hadn't he just said no? "And then what?" His voice cracked on the word "what."
"Dunno." Alex shrugged. "I came into the kitchen for a refill and when I got back, you were both gone."
"Great."
"Hey, man. Don't worry about it. No one's gonna tell."
"What are you talking about?"
Alex's eyes met his. "Everyone knows about 'the rule'."
Shawn just stared.
"For what it's worth, I think it's bullshit. Who plays better sexually frustrated, you know?"
Shawn pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. This was a nightmare. "I don't even know her damn name. I mean, that's kind of a dick move." In the past, Shawn had been an ass, a cocky douche, but he had never been a dick. He had standards.
"Who cares?" Alex slapped Shawn on the shoulder. "Less mess that way. Besides, I think she's just some scrub from Whitecastle anyway. They totally owe us a few of their skanks, know what I mean?"
Shawn didn't say anything and lowered his head back to the counter. The cold Formica against his forehead helped a bit with the pounding. Something about this whole thing wasn't sitting quite right with him. He didn't make it a habit to sleep with random girls and not even get their names. But even more so, he had no idea what kind of girl this girl was. She couldn't be so innocent if she let him bang her against a door without even giving him her name. She'd probably let any guy do the same thing. What if she was diseased or something equally disgusting? God, he'd have to go get tested now. A shudder worked its way through his body. He hated needles.
The more he thought about it, the more he thought maybe Alex was right. Chances were, if he didn't know her name, she didn't know his either. The last thing he wanted was for some girl tracking him down, claiming she'd been with him, and his dad finding out. No, that wouldn't be good for anyone involved.
Yeah. This was best. He'd just push it aside, pretend it didn't happen. He'd forget about the girl with soft brunette hair and sexy black boots. He'd forget the way she clung to him, and sunk her nails into his shoulder. He'd forget the fact that he had no idea whether or not he'd had a barrier between himself and her. And he'd definitely forget that he didn't even know her name.
____________________________________________
Camila sat alone, dressed in only a thin paper gown, the chilly air in the sterile, clinic room giving her goose bumps. She shifted on the table, the paper liner sticking to her skin and crinkling beneath her. Her bare, pale legs hung over the end, not even reaching half way to the ground. Her eyes shifted to the chair near the door where her pile of clothing lay. A pair of purple panties with a small bow on the front peeked out from the fold of her jeans. Irrationally, she wanted to jump up and tuck them down inside so no one would see them. She knew it was stupid, the doctor would be seeing a lot more of her in a few minutes than her preferred brand of underwear. But somehow it felt like if she at least hid them, she'd hold onto a shred of her dignity.
When she'd first come into the room, a nurse took her paperwork—which she'd fudged to say she was eighteen—then took her vitals and asked her a few questions. Things like family history of disease, whether or not she was on any sort of medication, blahblahs. But when the nurse asked if she was currently sexually active, Camila almost choked on her tongue. She actually didn't know how to answer the question. The most truthful answer would be: no. Other than the night before, Camila hadn't done more than get felt up in the back of her last boyfriend's car. Did doing it once count as 'sexually active'? She guessed it probably did.
On the way out of the room, the nurse gave Camila the gown she wore now and told her to strip—completely. No bra. No panties. They wanted her completely naked under the oversized napkin. Then she'd left and Camila was alone. Hailee sat out in the waiting room, and Camila knew she'd come back if she wanted her to, but this was embarrassing enough without an audience. Still, she couldn't help but wish she wasn't all by herself. In one weak moment, she even wished her mom was there to hold her hand. But she knew that was an impossibility. Her mother would never understand. How could she? Her only daughter went against everything she was taught and got so drunk she lost her virginity to a stranger against a bathroom door. That was not a conversation Camila wanted to have anytime soon.
Since she'd woken up hung-over and sicker than she'd ever been at Hailee's that morning, little things about the night before were coming back to her. It wasn't much—certainly not as much as she needed, that was for sure, but she did remember arriving at the party on the north side of the city. It was loud and packed. Mostly with kids that attended Ashford Institute, so she didn't know many of them. The drinks flowed heavily, and Camila indulged. She shouldn't have. It had been stupid, but at the time she just wanted to loosen up, to fit in and have a good time. Well, apparently, she'd had a really good time.
She still didn't remember much about what happened inside the bathroom or what preceded it, but there were a few more things that were becoming clearer. She was now pretty sure the boy she was with was brunette, and had a lot of hair. The feel of it between her fingers was one of the memories that stood out the most to her. It seemed like a really stupid thing to remember, but she couldn't force her mind to give her the images she desperately wanted. She was also pretty sure he was a lot taller than her. Not that that was hard to do when she barely reached five foot three in shoes. But she recalled herself looking up at him, way up, and seeing that smirk. Yes, she remembered that too. But all his other features: nose, forehead, jaw, and eyes ... it was like someone had poured acid over just those part of his face in her memories and they were nothing but a blur. She couldn't see anything but that smile, and a hint of the color of his hair. It wasn't enough to identify him, and she had no idea if he'd even told her his name.
As frustrating as not remembering his physical appearance was, even more so were the things she did remember. It would be so much more helpful if she could recall the shape of his nose or the color of his eyes, but what her mind chose to recall wasn't either of those. She didn't know what his hands looked like, whether or not he bit his nails or let them grow out some, if his fingers were short and stubby or long and slender, but she sure as hell remembered what they felt like. How they'd touched her carefully, gently, traced the bones of her face, cupped her cheeks in their palms, and ran lines down her sides and over her stomach before dipping into her skirt and touching her where no one ever had before. And when they had, they hadn't been rushed, they hadn't hurt, they'd made her feel good. They'd made her feel wanted and made her want more in return.
Even now, in this place, being in the situation she knew she was in, remembering what they did to her, made her cheeks flame.
Before she had a chance to ponder any more, there was a knock on the door and it opened just a crack.
"Miss Cabello? May I come in?"
"Yes." Camila's voice cracked on the word and her chest tightened, constricting the airflow into her lungs.
The door opened wider, and a short, red-haired woman stepped inside closing it behind her. She had kind, almond-shaped eyes and a genuine smile. It wasn't judging or sad like Camila had expected. Camila relaxed minutely.
The doctor moved further inside and held out her hand for Camila's. "I'm Dr. Shelly."
Camila took the woman's hand. "Camila."
Dr. Shelly sat on a rolling stool situated just under the counter that stretched along the side of the room. She rolled it over next to Camila and crossed her legs, laying her clipboard on her thighs. "So, what can I do for you today, Camila?"
Camila bit her lower lip and twisted her hands together in her lap. "Well, I, uh ..."
"It's okay, Camila. I'm here to help you."
Camila swallowed and lowered her eyes to her lap. Maybe if she wasn't looking at her, she could get this out easier. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to this woman about her apparent sex life. She didn't want to be here at all, but Hailee had insisted, saying she at least needed to be tested for STD's. But this was beyond mortifying. "I think I—I think maybe I had sex last night." She chanced a glance up.
The doctor's expression hadn't changed. "You think?"
"Yeah, I—I can't really remember everything."
"Oh." Dr. Shelly scribbled something on the chart in front of her. "Were you under the influence of something at the time?"
Camila nodded.
"Alcohol?"
Another nod.
"All right, Camila. What makes you think you had sex?"
The question shocked Camila. She hadn't really thought she'd have to answer something like that. How embarrassing to not really know. "Well, I'm sore ... down there, and ..."
"And?"
"And I was bleeding. I mean, I found blood in ..." Her face heated. God, she didn't even talk about stuff like her period with her mom. Now she was talking about some stupid boy making her bleed with a complete stranger.
Dr. Shelly reached out and laid her hand on top of Camila's. Camila looked up. The woman's eyes were still kind, understanding. "You found blood in your underwear? So you were a virgin?"
Camila nodded again.
"How much? Would you say it was a lot?"
"A lot?"
"Like you might find during menstruation?" She paused. "Basically I'm asking if it's possible you started your period. I know it sounds silly, but the mistake has been made many times before."
"Oh." More blood to her cheeks. "No, it wasn't anything like that."
"Okay." Dr. Shelly pursed her lips, then smashed them together like she didn't like what she was about to say. "Camila, I'm going to ask you a question, and I need you to understand that it's something I'm required to ask in situations like these. However much I don't like asking, and you won't like answering, I need you to be honest. Can you do that?"
Camila's stomach churned. "Y—yes."
The doctor took in a breath. "From what you can recall, was anything forced on you? Did this boy hurt you to get you to submit? Or were you a willing participant?"
Camila took a few seconds to try to stop her voice from shaking, but didn't hesitate with her answer. For as much as she didn't remember, the things she did made her certain. "I—I was willing."
"Okay, dear." Dr. Shelly smiled and stood, walking over to the counter and grabbing a couple of latex gloves, snapping them onto her hands. "If you could lie back on the table and scoot your bottom all the way to the edge, we can get started."
Camila hesitated, thinking about how much she didn't want to do this, before complying. She lay back onto the cold table, the paper making that sickening crinkling sound once again. She scooted down as far as she could without feeling like she wasn't falling off the end. The squeak of the wheels on the rolling chair sounded and Camila felt the table jiggle beneath her.
There was a loud clang and the table jerked once more. Camila's heart pounded, as the sound of metal scraping on metal reached her ears. What was she doing down there? Camila kept her knees together, her feet just barely touching the edge of the table.
"Okay, Camila. I'm going to need you to put your feet in the stirrups."
Camila glanced down and saw a large, metal arm-like thing sticking up from the end of the bed—two of them actually, one on each side. They looked like one end of a salad tong. Camila slowly stretched her feet toward the contraption. It was the most awkward thing, trying to keep her knees together while her feet reached outward. Finally, she had them both in, and lay there as still as possible, her bare bottom facing the door. Oh God. If someone walked in, they'd see everything! She wanted to sit up, to cover herself and tell the doctor this was all a big mistake. That she didn't need this, didn't need to be there after all. Instead, she clenched her hands into fists at her sides and closed her eyes.
"Camila? I need you to open your legs now, please."
She felt the doctor's hand touch her knee, and she jumped. The last thing she wanted to do was spread her legs! That's what got her into this mess in the first place. She kept them tensed and pressed together. She couldn't seem to loosen her muscles even a little. Finally, with a little prodding from the doctor, her legs parted, shaking under Dr. Shelly touch.
"It's okay. Just relax."
Camila let out a slow breath and stared up at the tiles in the drop ceiling. There were lights in every other one, two vents in the front and back of the room, and a few sprinklers. On the walls were posters of side shots of women in various stages of pregnancy, part of their bodies cut out to show the layers and point out all her female parts. On the desk was a model of a uterus, a removable fetus stuffed inside. Camila shivered.
"You're going to feel me touch you now," she said.
And Camila did. It was clinical. Cold. Rough. Funny how what she remembered of a teenage boy's touch could be more gentle than this forty-something female doctor's.
"You're going to feel some pressure now. It may be a bit uncomfortable. Just try to relax the best you can."
"Okay," Camila said.
She couldn't see what the doctor was doing, but she could hear. There was a tinkling of metal, and a strange squirting sound, like something was being squeezed out of a tube.
"Here we go," Dr. Shelly said.
And that's when Camila felt it. Something hard and cold right there. The sensation was uncomfortable and a little painful. She tensed. After a moment, she heard several clicks, and the pressure inside her increased. She sucked in a breath and held it.
"You doing okay up there?"
Camila nodded, but when she remembered the doctor couldn't hear her way down there, she answered, "Yes."
After several more seconds, the doctor removed whatever she'd placed inside of Camila and stood. "You're going to feel my hands again." She didn't wait for Camila's confirmation before she was touching her.
It hurt. Not a lot, but enough to cause tears to sting Camila's eyes. The doctor pushed on Camila's lower belly, feeling around for ... something. Camila didn't know. A few seconds later, Dr. Shelly withdrew her hands completely.
She patted Camila's knee and said, "You're all set. You can sit up."
Camila flung herself up so quickly, she felt her head swim. As much as she knew the things the doctor had done were what was supposed to happen at these visits, she'd never felt so incredibly embarrassed and ... violated ... in her life. Not even considering what she'd done last night. It was a whole different thought process: sex and being felt, well, down, by a female doctor. So impersonal and just, yuck!
The doctor stripped off her gloves and washed her hands in the small sink situated under a mirror. As she dried, she turned toward Camila again. When she finished, she walked back over to her stool and sat, grabbing her clipboard.
"My findings concur with your suspicions." Her findings? "The hymen is no longer intact and there is a significant amount of swelling and bruising consistent with intercourse." She scribbled something onto the chart. "I see no evidence of forced penetration. Though, it does appear your partner was ... quite a bit larger than you, which would account for the amount of damage."
Damage? What the hell was she talking about? Did that asshole break her?
The doctor glanced up expectantly, and Camila's face flared. How was she supposed to know if he was "larger"? She couldn't even remember his face let alone his ... largeness! But the doctor looked like she wanted an answer, a confirmation. Camila gave her what she knew.
"He was, uh, well, I remember him being really tall ...? But, I mean, I'm really short, so ..."
Dr. Shelly smiled and even chuckled a little. "Yes, well, things usually tend to be pretty proportionate, so it makes sense he'd be ... tall."
Camila wanted to die.
"You're probably going to feel sore for a few days. That's normal. You may even bleed a little more. Most people don't, but it's possible. I'm only telling you so you don't worry if it happens. I would recommend you hold off on any more sex until your body heals, though."
"I don't think that's going to be an issue," Camila said, ready to be done and out of there.
"Okay then, we should probably discuss birth control. Have you thought about what you'd like to do for the future?"
Camila balked. "What do I need birth control for? It was just this one time."
Dr. Shelly grinned. "It's a proven fact that once someone starts having sex, they usually continue. It's just a precaution for the future."
"Well, I can't take anything. I mean, I don't want to put that stuff in my body." It was a lie, but how "grown up" would the doctor think she was if she told her she didn't want to risk her parents finding anything? If her father knew ... well, she wouldn't have to worry about ever having sex again because he'd likely break off the penis of any boy that got within ten feet of her.
"That's understandable. There are many women who prefer not to. But what are you going to do to protect yourself in the future?"
"Not have sex?" Camila mumbled, feeling very positive about that idea.
The doctor laughed. "Yes, that is definitely the best form of protection against a variety of diseases and pregnancy. But we both know sometimes even our best intentions aren't enough."
Camila bit her lip. "Well, I guess condoms—if I ever do ... that ... again."
"Good choice." The doctor stood and walked over to a cabinet situated near the back of the room. She opened the door and removed a brown paper lunch sack. "Here." She handed it to Camila.
Camila looked inside, her eyes growing wide when she realized the bag was chock full of condoms. She closed the bag quickly, feeling her face heat. Did the doctor really think she'd need that many? Did anyone?
"If used correctly, condoms can be very effective against pregnancy and STD's. Do you know how to use them?"
Oh, God!
"I know where they go ..."
"Well, that's a start. I can show you how to put them on if you like." The doctor reached into the cabinet again, her fingers closing around some sort of statue. Oh—not a statue. A giant, plastic model of a penis.
"Oh!" Camila held out her hand and gestured for the doctor to stop. "I'm pretty sure I get how it works. Really." She paused and drew in a breath. "But, considering how I wasn't, uh, completely 'there' at the time, is there a way to, you know, check if we used ..." She gestured to the cabinet full of condoms.
The doctor closed the doors and came back over to stand beside Camila. "Sometimes we can tell during the examination, but most times not. I didn't find any semen present during your exam, but I assume you have showered and used the bathroom since the incident?"
Camila nodded.
"Then it's very likely anything left behind would be washed away. But don't worry, we're going to have the nurse come back in and draw some blood for STD testing. If anything is going on, we can get you treated."
"But what about ... stuff ... other than STD's?" She hoped the doctor knew what she was asking because she didn't want to say it.
And she did. "The chance for pregnancy is always there whenever you have sex, protected or not. According to your chart, the date of your last period was a couple of weeks ago. The average time for ovulation is around fourteen days, but that's if you follow the average twenty-eight day cycle. You could ovulate early or late. That isn't something we can know yet."
"When will I know?"
This time the doctor did not smile. "You'll know when you get your period, or not."
Camila's breath caught. "But can't you tell now?" Her voice was small, very small.
Dr. Shelly's expression softened. "No. There's no way I can tell right now. We just have to wait and see." She paused. "There is another option, though."
"There is?"
The doctor nodded.
____________________________________________
Twenty minutes later, Camila exited the clinic with her ginormous bag of condoms, her arm sore from needle pricks, and Hailee hot on her heels.
"Well?" Hailee asked. "What did they say?"
"They said I'm a baboon. Jesus, Haiz, what do you think they said?"
"So, you did ... you know, it?"
Camila stopped, leaned up against the side of Hailee's car, closed her eyes, and took in a breath. "Yeah. Totally devirginized."
"Hell," Hailee said quietly.
"Yeah."
"So ... what now?"
"Now ..." Camila opened her eyes and sighed. "Now we wait."
"Wait?"
"Yeap. Wait."
"For?"
"For the blood test results and for my monthly visitor to decide whether or not she's going to show up on time." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Or at all."
"Damn, Mila."
"Yeah."
"Didn't she offer you the morning after pill? I mean, they still have that, right?"
Camila fiddled with her fingers. "She did. But I didn't want it."
"What?" Hailee's eyes grew wide. "How could you not want it? If you are ... you know ... it could solve everything."
"I know that. Haiz. I know. I just ... you don't know how badly I wanted to say yes when she offered to write me the prescription. I knew it would solve everything and I wouldn't have to worry about it for the next couple of weeks. But I just ... couldn't." She glanced back down at her hands. She couldn't explain the feeling that had come over her when the doctor told her of this last option. There was a slight bit of relief, but an overwhelming sense of wrongness too. She just couldn't do something like that. No matter how much easier it seemed. "I couldn't." Tears welled in her eyes and she swiped them away.
Hailee stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Camila, a noise escaping from her throat that sounded a lot like the ones Camila was making. "Damn it, Mila. You're so stupid. You know that?"
She nodded into Hailee's shoulder. "I know."
Hailee pulled back and looked Camila right in the eye. "So, a couple of weeks, huh?"
"Yeah, about."
"Okay," Hailee's face took on a determined expression. "That gives us plenty of time."
"Plenty of time for what?"
"To find that devirginizing, door banging bastard and string him up by his balls, of course. What else?" Hailee offered a falsely innocent smile and started to round the car. "You coming or what?"
Camila shook her head and grinned despite that fact that all she wanted to do was curl up and cry until the two weeks had passed and she was in the clear. "Yeah," she said instead. "I'm coming."
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Author's Notes:
Hey lovelies! Merry Christmas to those who're celebrating it! Fill it with extreme joy and love only, okay? Man, I wish it is snowing here at my place. I am sick at looking at all these fakeass cotton "snow".
Anyway, I am really surprised that you guys take this teen pregnancy issue pretty calm. No thoughts on it? If you have, let me know. I would love to hear your thoughts!
PS:
Still can't believe Camila Cabello is a solo artist now. Holy shit I still can't let that sink in.
xoxo
Bloomsbelle