Never Again

Clear and enthusiastic consent.

That’s what they tell you your partner is supposed to have. Anything that isn’t an enthusiastic yes should be considered a resounding no. There is no grey area, no question marks, no confusion. If you know, you know. We all saw the #MeToo Movement and #Time’sUp, it shouldn’t be that hard to get with the program. But here I am, in last night’s dress, hair a mess, tights ripped wondering how on earth it all went wrong.

❐ ❐ ❐

Yesterday my life was simple. I was excited to go to a party where I could be myself and have a good time, not worry about the stress of college or finding a job or whatever else is weighing on me. I just wanted to put on a nice dress and go out with my friends, be the carefree girl I always imagined in my head. The night started out fun, drinks and dancing until I couldn’t tell the difference between my heartbeat and the bass of the music. Out there I was just another body moving to the beat, until I saw him. God, he was gorgeous. Dark hair, piercing green eyes, and a smirk that could send me reeling. The moment our eyes met I could feel the tension between us, begging to be cut loose. Unconsciously I felt myself moving towards him, and it felt like he was doing the same. Within moments we were in each other's arms, moving in a way that set my entire body on fire. The outside world faded to background noise as we explored each other in ways that complete strangers should never do. Every moment was electric and I was thriving off the energy.

Hours passed like minutes under the strobe lights, and soon the rest of the crowd started to thin out. On my way out I decided to stop at the bathroom to try and convince myself that I was more sober than I was. I expected to meet my green eyed mystery man when I came out, but I was in for a much different night. The moment I grabbed the door handle, it swung open with so much force I was knocked off-balance into the arms of an unsuspecting stranger.

“Woah there missy, better watch out there.”

“Oops, my bad. Good thing you were there to catch me.”

I tried to stand up, but he kept his hands tight around my arms.

“Ummm, I’m okay now. I think I can stand.”

“Alright, but be careful out there. Maybe I should walk you to your car.”

“No that’s alright, my friends are waiting for me on the dance floor.”

“Darling, there’s no one out there. You sure I can’t help?”

“No, I’m good. I’m just gonna call an Uber.”

“Well I’ll just wait with you, make sure nothing happens.”

“Do whatever you want man.”

So we sat there in silence, while I stared at my phone watching the minutes tick down. But right as the Uber was arriving soon he took my phone and cancelled the ride.

“What are you doing?”

“I think it would be best if I took you home.”

“... I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. I was dragged to some sketchy looking black SUV and thrown into the backseat. Next thing I knew he was on top of me. I try not to remember the rest.

❐ ❐ ❐

I have no idea how I got home that night. But I do know that I spent six hours staring at a blank wall willing it all to go away. I couldn’t bring myself to go to class, change my clothes, do anything besides just sitting. My roommate found me like that the next night, but she just figured I was hungover. Nursing a bad headache, complaining about how everything is just “too loud”. I wish I was just hungover. I wish I was too drunk to remember in the first place.

Two days later I got out of bed. I went to class and tried to pretend that everything was normal. Barely five minutes into lecture some girl sits next to me and sends me a link to a document.

“I heard what happened at the party last weekend.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, I have something to tell you first. That guy you were with at the end of the night? He was my ex-boyfriend.”

“Good for you.”

“No, what I’m trying to tell you is that I know what you’ve been through. It’s not exactly like Saturday was a one-time thing for him.”

“How do you even know about this?”

“He’s been bragging to his friends about ‘the hot girl he went to town on’ last weekend. His words, not mine.”

“So why are you talking to me about this? Apparently, I slept with your ex.”

“Because I have a pretty good idea that that’s not what really happened.”

“What do you want.”

“Meet me after class. Jameson Courtyard.”

❐ ❐ ❐

You’d think that after what happened to me I’d have more trust issues. But I met with that girl from lecture. Turns out she didn’t want to beat me up or tear into me for sleeping with her ex. She wanted to help. For weeks she’s been training me to make sure that no man could ever hurt me again. I’ve been learning how to keep myself safe. Combat, mental games, and the art of seduction can be used as weapons against them, my own arsenal at my disposal. That girl gave me back the confidence I had a long time ago. Every day I met with her I became stronger, and my heart hardened against those I believed would do me harm. Nothing could stop me anymore. Especially not him.

❐ ❐ ❐

Six months later I decided to go out to the same bar where it happened, determined not to let a building haunt me forever. I put on a nice dress, did my hair, and walked to a place that flooded my mind every time I closed my eyes. Everything was the same: the drinks, the music, the horde of bodies on the dance floor. I joined the dance floor and tried to let loose. Seconds lasted like hours, and every nerve ending in my body was on fire. Every touch set me on edge, sending me into a cloud of fear. I felt like I was swimming through lightning. My heart rate increased and the panic set in, threatening to send me into a spiral and then I saw him. Six months later and he looked the same: dark hair, green eyes, and a smirk that told you that he knew too much. The guy that made my night the best I’d had in weeks, right before it became the worst of my life. The crowd seemed like it parted for him, and he was coming straight for me.

“I haven’t seen you around here in a while.”

“You remember me?”

“How could I forget a body like yours.”

“Cute, but you don’t even know my name.”

“So you think, but I know who you are. And how fun you can be.” Shocked, I take a step back.

“What are you talking about?”

“I heard about what happened the last time you came here.”

“Oh really now?”

“Why don’t we see how much fun we can have.” As he grabbed my hand and led me out of the club, I could feel my blood boiling. This boy that I knew nothing about, that knew nothing about me making these assumptions. He heard one story that was warped through the ridiculous male lens and all of a sudden he thinks he can talk to me like that. No one treats me like that anymore, especially not some rando from a club.

Moments after we walk out of the club he takes me around the corner, into a back alley. I’m pressed up against a wall no less that fifty feet from the dumpster, and I can feel every inch of his body against mine. The rough edges of brick help keep my mind clear as he presses his lips into my neck.

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

“Thanks.”

“Seriously, where have you been all my life?’

“Apparently just out of reach.”

“The things I would do to you.”

“I would love to see you try.”

I could feel his smile against me as his hands moved further down my body. My muscles tightened as he attempted to get to know parts of me he didn’t deserve to. Anger poured through me like a tidal wave and before I could register my next thought, I had him pressed up against the wall he was so fond of. He could barely utter a word.

“What are you doing?”

“What? You don’t like it when we have a little fun?”

As I hear his skin rip open against the bricks, a sense of calm filled me. This time I was in charge, I made the rules. Sixth months led me to this moment and I wasn’t going to make a mistake. I leaned into his ear and told him everything I’ve learned.

“You think you can do whatever you want, use me like a piece of trash. Well, this time you don’t get to be the one who calls the shots.”

“Chill man, I was just trying to have some fun.”

“What isn’t fun, is taking a story that isn’t yours and twisting it to be whatever you want it to be.”

“Jesus, I just heard what people were saying, it’s not like I told people. I barely know you.”

“And yet you thought that it would be a good idea to come into a club, drop a line and I would just go home with you? Well, not this time.”

I took out my switchblade and punctured his carotid artery before I could hear another half-assed apology come out of his mouth. As I let his body crumple to the ground and watch his blood spread across the concrete relief flooded through my body. Green eyes tried to hurt me in the same way he did. I will never be able to forget his hands around my neck or the complete and utter helplessness I felt the weeks after. Emptiness filled me in a way I never anticipated. The cold wrapped around my heart rests there still, and I don’t know if it will ever truly leave me.

The body in that filthy alleyway next to the dumpster was the first of a long line of people who tried to hurt me. But the first in a rather short line of those who underestimated me. In a different life, I was a naive girl who just wanted to have fun. Now I know better. I know what the world really has to offer and I’m fighting for the girl that I used to be. This time I’m stronger and no one will be able to hurt me.

Never again.