Take Me

Chapter Twenty-Three

"I had a dream that I was fine. I wasn't crazy, I was divine."    

- Lana Del Rey                

♔ Chapter Twenty-Three ♔         

I was smiling a lot now, but it wasn't because I was happier.

Everything around me was crumbling. My relationship with my mother, who now hated me. My relationship with Darby, which had been completely shattered after what Isaac did to me. My relationship with Isaac was the thing that crumbled the quickest, though.

No matter what I do, when I closed my eyes, I'd see him. So beautiful, so perfect, everything that I thought I wanted. It must be some kind of twisted joke, then, mustn't it, that the reason we didn't work was because I didn't really want him? And he just took me anyway.

Some people call that rape, and maybe it was, but to me it looked more like taking what he wanted, whether he thought about the consequences or not. That was what Isaac did. He didn't really care, he just lived for the thrill of doing what he wanted, of not being tied down. He didn't care about something so mediocre as the law, or something so petty as my permission, my feelings. He takes what he wants and he doesn't care who he hurts.

He hurt me. He hurt me so much, and there wasn't anything I could do about it. I'd just stayed where I was, frozen in place, not fighting back. I was asking for it, I was practically begging for him to take me. Even when I didn't want it, to him, it was like I wanted it anyway. To him, he must have thought I needed it. I needed to learn that I was his to do with as he pleased, to fuck with, to kick and punch and slap. The sad thing about it was that the both of us knew I could do something to stop it, but I wouldn't, because some small part of me knew I deserved everything that I was getting.

And that was why I smiled.

Sometimes, things just seemed so terrible in your life, everything just hits an all time low, that all you really have is your image. What people think of you. And so it's always best to pretend that you're okay, to bottle up your feelings and hide them behind your smiles. They were your problems, and no one else's. Your burdens to bare, all on your own. So that's just what you do, that's your first instinct. Simply to smile, shut up, and act like everything was okay. Even when, deep inside, all you want to do is scream.

I wanted nothing more than to scream so loud, to turn and toss my anger at the person nearest to me. I wanted to just lash out, to be as carefree as Isaac was when it came to consequences. I wanted to feel my fist hitting something, hitting someone, to find some outlet for it all. But even then, I was too cowardly to do that. So I did what I always did, and I kept my mouth shut, I kept it all inside, all of my torment and trauma, all of my problems. It wasn't like I had anyone who cared enough about me anymore to actually sit and listen, anyway, now that I'd distanced myself from them.

I could have easily spoken to Hebe about it, but all I'd get from her was ignorance. She hated talking about other people's problems. And if I told her the whole truth, she'd slap me, because I was the slut that stole Isaac from her. And I suppose I could tell Darby, but how would he react? He'd go mental, he'd attack Isaac. No good could come from that. It wasn't like I was close with my mother anymore, or even Bobby. Maybe Mrs. Doorsdale would listen, but she just didn't understand. She'd want to get the police involved, she'd want me to have some kind of justice. And I didn't deserve justice. So the only way I saw the problem fixing itself was pretending like it wasn't there, hoping that it would all just vanish. Even though I wasn't so stupid as to think that it actually would.

I knew that for as long as I lived, whenever I closed my eyes, I'd see him there, above me, holding me down. At night, I'd dream of him, of his hard grasp on me, his horrible thrusts into my body. I'd imagine him all of the time, and whenever his face even flashed over my mind, I'd freeze. I'd feel my heart beating faster, palpitating. My throat would tighten, I'd feel a lump lurching its way upwards. It would make me feel vile and disgusting, like I had to vomit, like I was about to die.