Pulling his hand back in mock retreat, he stepped back. I grabbed my things
and rushed to the door. Christopher followed. As I fumbled with the keys, he grabbed my face and kissed me.
I slapped him across the face. “You will never touch me again. I am going to
tell everyone what you did.”
“You’re going to tell everyone you threw yourself at me, in front of hundreds
of our classmates, and that you made me drive your friend home first, so you could seduce me? You think your little boyfriends won’t confirm what a whore
you are?”
“They lied, and you drugged me.”
“No one will believe you. There is no evidence,” he boasted, as if we weren’t
talking about his planned assault on me. He took the keys from me and opened
the door.
I tried to get into the safety of my home, but he grabbed my wrist.
“Thank you for the lovely evening, Caitlyn. We can do it again sometime.”
He dropped the keys into my hand and released me.
I shoved past him into the house and shut the door. I turned, bolted every lock, and then rushed around, making sure all entrances were sealed.
When I was safe in my room, I locked the door to make sure he couldn’t get
to me. I closed my eyes and slid down it, trying to block out the memories of my
broken evening. He was right. No one would believe me. I had thrown myself at
him.
The darkness filled me again, and I slipped into unconsciousness. I woke to
the sound of my mother. I quickly ripped off everything I was wearing, including
the bracelet, and threw it in the wastebasket. I stared at myself in the mirror.
He had not left any marks. The only proof of his assault was soreness, an aching feeling throughout my body. I turned the shower to the hottest
temperature I could stand, and I scrubbed every inch of my body. When the water finally ran cold, I dried myself off, dressed in my warmest pajamas, and
climbed into bed.
Hours later, I was woken by my mother and the sweet smell of pancakes.
“Wake up, sleepyhead, and tell me about your evening. It’s almost two
o’clock,” my mother’s singsong voice chirped, adding to my throbbing
headache.
I was afraid that Christopher and the driver would return, but whatever drug
he gave me knocked me out.
My mother fussed around my room, and when she made a move towards the
bathroom, I jumped up. My dress was in the trash. If she found it, I would have
to tell her everything.
“It was a long night. I’ll get dressed and join you. Can I have French toast instead of pancakes?” I requested.
My ever-accommodating mother beamed at my request. “Of course, dear.
Any special toppings?”
“Surprise me.” I forced a smile.
