Lacrosse

18- Stop and Top

Kendall

"Coach," I say, once she has finished telling us the starting line up. "I'm going to run over to the bathroom."

"Hurry. You can't miss the start of the game."

I quickly jog off the field, closing the metal fence behind me as I go. As I continue on my way to the bathroom near the parking lot, I can't shake the ominous feeling that something is going to happen. I feel it in my gut, and my gut has been proven right way too many times.

I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts out of my mind. Focus Kendall, I think to myself. You need to keep your head in the game.

I turn before I reach the window of the concession stand, completely abandoned at this point. Not even the workers bothered staying around to serve the food, nobody will come anyway. Everyone is on the bleachers, packing them to the point where people are practically sitting on top of each other. Some parents and teachers even brought their own chairs and are sitting near the fence to avoid the crowds.

I pass the unused equipment room located right before the guys' bathroom, and suddenly a pair of hands are around my waist, pulling me inside with enough force to catch me off guard, but not enough to hurt me. A small scream begins to exit my throat as I find myself surrounded by complete darkness, unable to see anything around me.

The room has no windows, no working lights, and no cracks in the doors, leaving it in utter darkness all the time. The musty scent of dust and old sweat tickles my nostrils, making me want to gag.

The large hands are still on my waist, holding me tightly against the wall. I struggle under the weight, trying to make whoever this is release me.

Until a pair of lips connects with the part of my neck where it meets my shoulder. My body relaxes after feeling the touch, knowing it is just Josh.

"God Josh," I sigh. "You scared me half to death!"

He does not reply except with his lips pushing against mine forcefully. I pull away.

"You're going to make me late for the opening draw." He does not stop though, he pushes back up against me, connecting his mouth to mine. The pair of hands slides up the back of my penny top, raising goosebumps over my skin. They continue working their way up my spine, slipping underneath the hem of my sports bra.

"Stop it, Josh!" I hiss, trying to move away. He stops me in the path, slamming me hard against the wall of the room, dust trickling off one of the empty shelves. This is not Josh. This can't be Josh. He would never do this.

His cold, dry lips are back on mine, his tongue trying to open my mouth. One hand is in my bra now, groping me. The other is under my skirt fumbling with my spandex sliders, trying to yank them off.

"Who are you?" I scream, managing to break free from this stranger's mouth for just a second.

"Scream again and you won't be the only one to get hurt today," a raspy voice of a teenager that appears to be around my age hisses. I recognize the voice as the one from the field on Thursday. I open my mouth to yell for help, but the hand that was under my skirt just seconds ago is suddenly over my lips, silencing me. I bite down as hard as I can, tasting the saltiness of his skin beneath my teeth. "You shouldn't have done that."

That same pair of dry, clammy hands push my shoulders backwards, causing me to fall to the ground. My butt hits the cement ground, followed by my back and head.

"Now be a good girl and take off your shirt," the voice says softly, in a voice you use to talk to a baby you're trying to bribe in to eating it's food. I feel hot tears drip out of my eyes, burning my cheeks before splashing on to the floor. My arms feel heavy and paralyzed beside my torso, but somehow I manage to lift them. I tug at the hem of the navy blue penny, sliding it over my stomach, my chest, and my head, letting it drop to the ground next to me. I hear a light plop come from in front of me, the sound of fabric hitting the cement from higher up.

"Fight back and I will make him pay," the boy threatens, practically spitting the words as he says them.

I feel the weight of a larger body push down on top of me. Lips meet the flesh of my neck, sucking at the skin. Those clammy hands run up and down my thighs. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Until they finally stop going down, they just keep moving up. Fingers close around the smooth material of my yellow sliders, sliding them down to my knees. My underwear are next, joining the spandex farther down my legs.

I just lay there, motionless, unable to do anything. Even if I could fight back, I wouldn't. I will make him pay. He will hurt Josh. I can't let that happen. If I'm going to get hurt, let it stay with just me. There is no getting out of what is to come. No amount of fight could hold him back. He is too big, too strong.

And so I just lay there, feeling the lips suck on my neck, working their way down to where my bra starts, then back up again. The hands stroke my hair, my legs, my chest. And there is nothing I can do.

After a lifetime has passed, I feel the weight of the other body leave. I can hear his footsteps as he walks towards the heavy door that concealed us from the rest of the world. Tears soak my face, a small puddle formed on the ground near my eyes. My fingers fumble dumbly for the fabric of my underwear, finally grasping it and yanking them up my legs, back to their rightful position.

A burst of light illuminates the equipment room, allowing me to see everything. My attacker is standing at the door, propping it open with a rock, his back to me. Black hair. Tan skin. A Pittsburgh Hills Cavaliers t-shirt hugging his back. Then a voice saying words that will haunt me for the rest of my life. Words that will travel with me through every day until the day I die. Words that will appear in my dreams, keeping me awake at night.

"We should do this again sometime, Kendall baby."

Footsteps walking away, the door still open. Sunlight burning my eyes, making me feel exposed. I grab the familiar fabric of my penny, hugging it to my chest, as I crawl over to the corner of the room nearest the door.

He knows my name. He planned this. This was no accident. He was waiting for me in the room and he attacked me. He knew what he was doing and he does not regret it. He would do it again if he could.

This is what I've been feeling since we found out about this scrimmage on Wednesday. That feeling of something bad that was to come, this was it. I was right. My gut always is.

Even when I wish it wasn't.

I sit, huddled in the corner, for what seems like forever. I hear the cheers of the crowd on the bleachers less than the length of a lacrosse field away from me. None of them were here to help me. None of them heard me try to scream.

I can't stand up. I can't bring myself to my feet. Even if I could, I'm sure I would only collapse before even reaching the doorway.

Two familiar voices start approaching me, growing louder every slap of the bottom of their slides on the pavement.

"Why the hell is this door open?" one boy says.

"I don't know," the other remarks.

Their two faces peek inside the old equipment room, terror crossing over their handsome faces as their eyes connect with my trembling, half naked body.

"Oh my god," Andrew gasps, dropping down to his knees, somehow knowing what has happened in this room without me even having to tell him. Todd curses under his breath, having to look away. I shove my head in to my knees, not wanting to look in to the pitying faces of my friends.

"Josh," I whisper, my voice quiet and weak. "I want Josh."