Layla
The day I knew I had started to like Calum was the fifth day of December in freshman year. Ariel and I were weighing the possibilities of which guy being our potential boyfriend. At that moment, a paper airplane flew to my head and hit it. I stood up, ready to shout at whomever that was—because at the time, I was an overly pretending tough girl. He walked towards me, apologizing. But he was smiling and I noticed how beautiful his eyes were. They drew me in and ever since; I was hooked onto him.
Perhaps a stalker, I knew when Calum’s football practices were. Ariel and I usually went to watch, partly to cheer our friend Matty on, and partly to admire Calum. Although Ariel never liked Calum in the way I did; she always said that he gave off a bad vibe. As a supportive best friend though, she helped me get opportunities to talk to him.
“So,” I chuckle in a way I hope was even remotely cute, “You said you wanted to talk?”
He hums a tune I can’t bother to remember. His hand is wrapped around mine, leading me to a dark meadow behind the house. I send mental thanks to the obscurity outside for veiling my blushing face. As this is the first time Calum and I have been alone together, I prefer not looking like a tomato.
The blasting music coming from the house in front of us is making the ground vibrate the slightest bit. Calum scrunches up his nose for a second, blinks at me and smiles. My insides fluff, I pray for this night to end as well as I want it to. All I hope for is a confession of him liking me or even a kiss.
“I did, “I heard rumors about you—perhaps liking me.”
My eyes slowly follow his hand sliding to my waist. I need to take breaths to steady myself.
“Oh, did you now?”
“I did,” he repeats, “Are they true?”
Building up courage in a split second, I reply.
"There’s a possibility.” My answer surprises me. Two weeks ago I had difficulty talking to him, now I’m…flirting with the guy.
“Ah?” his eyes crinkle, “That’s good.”
And with every millisecond passing, I can feel his face coming closer to mine. His eyes are concentrated on my lips. I can’t think; can’t function; can’t breathe. His lips approach mine slowly and softly, and soon he is kissing me. My eyes are shut, I am afraid that if I open them I’ll wake up from a remarkably sweet dream.
It is everything I want it to be—tender and passionate. He tastes like popcorn and alcohol; I hate it. I wonder when he will stop, but he only inserts his tongue in my mouth. And it is at that moment that I want him to stop. I try to kiss him back, but it feels bizarre. In the books and movies; this is supposed to feel good, but why does it feel so wrong?
The only thing I am sure of at this moment is that I want him off of me, as far away from me as possible.
God damn it, the only other guy I ever kissed was Jerry; my hot mess of a freshman year boyfriend. We broke up a week after we had kissed: because he got bored of my lips. To this day, Ariel and I still imitate him and make jokes about him (without his knowing about it, of course.) Mean? Maybe. Fun? Definitely.
This is not the time for flashback, because my slight mental absence at that moment could give Calum the wrong impression, one that would cost me a lot. I am pulled back to reality, where a long-time crush is violently shoving his tongue in my mouth. His hands glide from my waist to my butt. I bring myself to push him off as strictly as I can. My heart is racing; agita is spreading in my veins.
“I didn’t know first kisses end up in making out and uh—butt touching,” I say nervously, wiping my lips. Shockingly, I want the trace of his lips off mine. I should’ve gotten to know him better before liking him.
Calum furrows his eyebrows, and then grins. “I see how it is. You wanna play tough, Lilly.” He puts his lips on my neck and starts kissing lower and lower; until his hands go up to my chest, grabbing there. There’s an immediate alarm resounding throughout my entire body, screaming to get him off me.
“It’s Layla!” I exclaim, pushing him off. He falls to the ground, a flabbergasted look on his face. “What the fuck are you doing?!”
“Look, whatever your name is. You like me, I like your body, and therefore we have sex. There, now you know what I’m doing,” he stands up and pushes me against the wall of the house.
I realize just how intoxicated he is. The suffocating smell of vodka and beer fills my lungs and I am struggling to breathe. His hands roam beneath my shirt; he is moving quickly and unkindly. Parts of my body are being touched by a boy I’ve never said five full sentences to. He rips my shirt and I scream. It is like he is deaf and insensitive to my kicks of protest. He pins me down on the wall and growls for me to shut up. His hold, rough and his words, violent.
I am certain to have received a bruise on my back; it aches terribly. Calum’s nails dig into my shirt and rip it off me. Sweat forms on the back of my neck and a scream is building up in my throat.
Whatever tactic it is I try on Calum, nothing stops him from imposing his overpowering masculine strength on me. His slobbering mouth is kissing my neck as his hands approach my pants zippers. Calum goes from violently squeezing my bum to the waistband of my jeans. He fumbles with the button; unable to detach it.
It is at that moment that I realize: I’m dealing with sexual assault.
Mustering every bit of courage and mettle my small body can possibly handle, I bring my knee to his crotch with every ounce of strength I have. He howls in pain and falls to the ground. I don't even think of replacing my agita by pride because of the fear taking everything over as a whole. That is all I feel. I pick up my jean jacket and hold it as tightly as possible across my torso to obscure the fact that I am only in a bra. Running as far away as possible, I wonder when the forest will end.
The sound of the party fades away. I don’t hear anything but my own breathing. My heartbeats are savage in my ribcage; almost as if my heart yearned to get out and run away from my body. Falling to the ground, I collapse.
I hold my knees together. A tree is supporting my head. My whole body is trembling; I can hear drumming in my ears. Cold sweat runs down my forehead and I try to steady my breathing but I can’t.
I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him.
Closing my eyes shut, I murmur repeatedly: “This is just a dream. It’s a dream. I’m dreaming. It’s a bad dream. I’m going to wake up. I’m waking up. Please, God, wake me up.” His filthy touch infiltrates my skin deep into my soul and all I want is to wash it all away.
“Oh God, oh God. Oh my God. Oh my God,” I sob, clutching myself. “Oh my God.”
My back is throbbing and I am almost positively sure there are scratches. The skin he touched does not feel like my own; it feels like a stranger making my body its home. My fingers cannot stay still. Still wetting my face, tears freely fall. I remember what my mom says: when you cry, it’s because the universe is washing your face to see life in a new point of view.
God, how could I have been so stupid?
My phone has fallen a few feet away from me. I crawl towards it and take it in my hands. Dialing the number I know most by heart, I wait for my best friend to pick up. “Lay—hiccup—la!” giggles Ariel.
“Ariel?”
“No shit!” she sing-songs.
I gulp, “I need you.”
“Uh-oh! That’s not good!”
She’s drunk.
“Ariel, I—I need you.”
There is shuffling in the background, “Houpsie-daisie! I dunno, Lay! Your name is funny; it’s like chips! Ha! Oh, I don’t feel so good!”
“Please, Ariel. Help me. Please.”
The phone service disappears. I stare at my phone, dumbfounded. The person I need the most now is a mess herself. For Ariel to speak like that, she must’ve gotten tricked to get drunk. I knew about her no-drinking rule; and this was going beyond bending the rule.
I put away any thought about myself. Ariel is more important. I wonder if Calum will be inside the house, but then again it is a big possibility. I am not ready to face him just yet.
But, Ariel.
Not taking care of her would be a betrayal towards her as a best friend. My mind drifts to call Aiden, but I turn the idea down. I didn’t know him enough to trust him with anything just yet.
In the space of fifteen minutes, I am at the door of the party. My jean jacket is buttoned up; which I hope looks far from weird in any way. I push the thought of Calum to the back of my head and concentrate on trying to find my best friend.
A hand is wrapped around my wrist the second I am about to walk through the door. I turn to face a woman I cannot recognize. She wears a majestic purple turban on her head. Her eyes are what captivate me; almond-shaped, they are the same color of her turban. She is undeniably gorgeous. The matching robes she wears make her stand out of any one I had seen tonight.
“Layla,” she says, “I’ve been expecting you.”
Stupefied by her mystical attractiveness, I answer: “Huh?”
She grabs my hand and tugs me behind her, we walk to a small stand on the garden of the house. I am almost a hundred percent sure that wasn’t there before. There is a clear crystal ball and two chairs. She sits on one and I sit on the other.
My thoughts are jumbled; nothing is comprehensible. All I see is her.
“Child, you’ve been blessed by my presence. I am here to do one thing; make your wish come true. I have traveled miles and miles to be here, so kindly don’t waste my time. Tell me, dear, what your heart desires.”
Does anyone else see her?
“I—I don’t know what I want.”
She furrows perfectly shaped eyebrows, “Think. Search deep down in your soul, you will find your true wish.”
I wish I could give her an answer, “I can’t. I don’t know.”
“Layla,” she puts her hand over mine and I am mesmerized by how soft they are, “When you decide, your wish is my command.”
Blinking repeatedly, I feel like her eyes are emitting light. I close my eyes and open them, only to find myself looking at a strange, obese lady with crazy hair and a cracked crystal ball. She is giving me a creepy smile, which I am scared to acknowledge. Her clutch on my hand is cutting off my blood circulation.
The last hours feel like a blur I cannot seem to recall. This troubles me; did I have a blank memory? What happened? Why is my jean jacket tied like this?
“Child,” her voice is scratchy and gives me goose bumps, “Pay up.”
Ariel.
Calum.
Aiden.
Everything comes rushing back, at a speed that hurts my skull. I stand up, snatching my hand away from the woman. Walking inside the house, I search for a redhead. The music dies down; there are whispers and prying eyes. Pointing fingers make me slow my pace, confused.
“Aye, how was Calum in bed? You dirty little thing!” a jock pokes my stomach; I swat his hand away instantly.
A girl takes a sip of her drink, “Filthy bitch had sex with him and has the guts to come here.” I recognize her as his ex, Fleura. Her friends give me death glares.
I didn’t do anything with him.
Overlapping shouts hurt my ears. “Slut!” says a younger boy.
“I bet you were bad with him, that’s why he came back!”
“Whore thinks she can sleep with him and still be innocent.”
“She probably gave him an STD!”
Money is thrown onto me. “Yo, here you go! A dollar! Now, will ya sleep with me?”
“Cheap-ass bitch!”
“How much you wanna bet he had to be blindfolded while it happened so that he didn’t have to look at her?”
“Now I get why he slept with her,” says a guy, “look at her butt!”
And as soon as he slaps my ass, I turn around and twist his wrist so hard he withers in pain. I fight the urge to punch him in the face. But then I see Calum. He is smiling at me, drinking from a plastic cup.
“You were great,” he grins. “Thanks, Lilany.”
I turn to the guy who told me it was probably bad.
Taking things one step at a time, I say: "Even if I really did do it, your insult would still be invalid, asshole."
Everyone looks at him laughing as he awkwardly drinks from his cup.
"Come on Lisa, you don't want to be mean to another potential customer,” chuckled Calum.
“Fuck you,” I want to cry.
I don’t think anyone has looked more repulsive to my eyes. “You already did, babe.” He says, winking.
Feeling my breathing get heavy, I start walking rapidly through everyone. Fresh tears greet my face and I curse myself for being so emotional. Every piece of me feels shattered and destroyed; as is the rest of my high school year.
“Lay?” says a voice I can’t be happier to hear, “Hello!”
“Ariel!” I sigh, “Are you okay?”
She scrunches up her nose, as she so often does when confused. “I—hiccup—had lots a drinks and they told me to drink, so I did! But—Lay—you make me not okay!”
I wipe my cheeks with the palm of my hand, “Why?”
“Because,” she looks around, “Somebody told me a secret.”
“What secret?”
She leans in and says, “My best friend begged Calum for sex and they did it. She told him to tell errbody that she sells the frickle-frackle for one dollar. Not one, but two! One!”
It is at that second that my knees threaten to buckle. I spot Aiden and scream for him to take care of Ariel as I escape from my surroundings. I faintly hear Aiden’s voice behind me.
"Layla, wait, let me help—," he starts saying as I walk into a bathroom and see a couple making out. I want to throw up. And I do.
The remains of food in my stomach come out, the bathroom is cleared. Someone locks the door on me. I can't even turn to see who it was even though I am terrified. I am on my knees, in front of the toilet, puking my guts out. I can’t possibly feel worse. My jacket is choking me. Everything feels too tight. I feel myself breaking. Energy is slowly fleeting my body. I lean my head against the ceramic floor; not caring how badly I smell. My eyes seem to be on a mission; one to never stop weeping. Sleepy and exhausted, I curl up on the floor, holding my knees much like a child.
“All I want is to be forgotten. I want them to forget everything,” I whisper as my whole body trembles. “Please, God, make them forget—please.” I repeat these words forever, crying simultaneously.
I hear footsteps come from someone I don't feel to need to identify and slowly but surely, I lose conscience.
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written by yas, edited by sarah