TWO SISTERS - PART 2

MATURE CONTENT | Reader Discretion Strongly Advised | Sexual Assault | Graphic Sexual Violence

SARA

The year was 1982.

Rain. Suddenly. So much. I was ecstatic. Rain. I love rain. Puts me in such a romantic mood. Unreasonably so. I love rain! ….. I was thinking and feeling as I twirled to music, clicking my high black heels strapped to my long, leggy legs, in his arms…. 

I don’t even remember whose arms. Just another pair of arms, in another one of those parties, in another one of those college freak-out bashes. I remember, though, the heady feeling of looking stunning in a black figure-hugging dress that swirled out just above my knees into silver-edged organza layers. Black and silver hoops in my ears. My hair, shiny, silky, black, long, falling over my slim, sexy waist as I did an intricate twirl and landed straight against his back. Strong and sinuous were his biceps as he turned around swiftly to prevent me from crashing into the food table on the rebound. And we were so close… I could smell his breath on my face… warm…. 

I undid myself from him and angled away back to the sidelines, trying hard to get my composure. I was unsettled. Not from the possibility of the crash but from the surety of the catch. I was caught. Ensnared.  

He walked up to me with two wine glasses and, without a word, snaked his hand around my waist leading me to the balcony, under the awning, smelling of night flowers, as he crossed his arms with mine and drank from my wine glass…. “To the crash of thunder as lightning struck my back today!” 

I do not know if it was the headiness of his touch or the vial he had mixed in my drink, but my legs were shaky and my eyes were clouding as my cheeks flushed and I mumbled an inane remark in return. I remember kicking myself mentally. ‘You are eighteen. Grow up. Talk sophistication. Remain cool and distant.’ But I  was melting. Or so I thought. Not knowing I was being taken for a solid ride. 

“I will take you tonight, slowly.” his words were seducing me, yet my common sense bucked up again.  “Stop!” I am not feeling well. You need to let me go and find my friends. I need to go home.” I managed to say. 

“Of course. Just rest. Put your head on my shoulder and let this nausea pass and then I will take you back  to your friends.” His voice was soothing, as I floated between coherence and incoherence. 

I briefly woke up after that to find myself in a bed between sheets and a group of boys surrounding me, looking down at me as I felt someone pull at my legs.  

I was naked. 

I could not keep my eyes open.

I screamed and moaned alternately with pain and pleasure as seemingly countless boys invaded me and caroused through my body.  

Till I think one of them must have started the game of hurting me. I was jolted out of the stupor with a scream when he stubbed his cigarette on my nipples. “ No fun fucking a corpse,” I heard him say. And then it was one blinding, searing, painful game after another. Each of them vying to see who could make me jump higher with pain.  

I was sobbing and pleading, fainting and waking up with the next jolt of pain.  

Till they left. Countless Godless hours later. 

I lay there. Still fainting and still waking, screaming. Alone. 

Till I could crawl to the bedside, to a phone and saw that it was only 1 am in the morning.  Had seemed like years. 

“Ma, ma …” I was sobbing on the phone, whispering, “ help me, please help me,” and was stunned into silence by her screaming on the other side. 

“Ma ma, I have been…….I was crying, and so was she. Why was she not listening to me? “ MA ama …..” my voice was trailing to a whisper ... and I was holding on to the phone, like my lifeline. It was my lifeline....  I wanted to get home. I wanted to go home. I was bleeding and burnt. I was naked., I could hear the music still blaring in the party outside, going strong .... I wanted to get home. Ma ma, please help me .… I would not let go of the phone…. I heard my sister screaming, asking my mother to let go of the phone and come to her at once. To her? When I was dying? And then there was nothing on the other side … nothing.  

Only the engaged tone of the nagging phone.  

And then I could not get through.  

Only the engaged tone. 

I crawled off the bed. Cleaned myself in the bathroom. Dragged on the black dress. Strapped on my high heels. Cleaned myself. Hated my sister. Hated my mother. If only my father … if only I could have talked to my father ... he would have told me what to do.

He would have said, “Head high always.” Yes. That is what I will do. Head high. I will Party. And walked out again. Into the party. Into the music. Into the rain.  

That night, I did not go home.