TW: Mentions of sexual assault and vomiting (I promise not every chapter will have triggers)
July 4th, 1961
Christine was strangely sad as she looked around what was left of her childhood bedroom. The walls looked bare without her posters and the painting she had framed there three years back; the exposed mattress now showed every sign of years of use, laying depressed on its wooden frame. Her life was packed into a suitcase and two boxes, already loaded in the back of her father's car.
Four hours later, Christine stood in line, waiting to get a glimpse at the student accommodation chart and collect her keys. She was on the edge of the campus, which was already rife with activity despite it being a month or so until classes began. Her nerves were already bubbling in her stomach as she watched the queue getting shorter. Trying to distract herself, she looked over to the huge entrance gates, where it seemed like hundreds of cars were filing in- and to her surprise, it seemed like most people's parents hadn't driven them in. She briefly wished she could have done the same, but she couldn't drive- they couldn't afford lessons yet alone a car alongside her tuition costs. She put it aside as her eyes settled on two long-haired girls walking through the gates, hand in hand. She'd heard rumours art school was sexually progressive and suddenly realised why her father hadn't seemed thrilled when she told him she got accepted. She didn't care. They weren't doing anyone any harm and they looked happy as they locked lips.
Still, she couldn't shake the strangely thrilled feeling in her stomach as she collected her keys and they disappeared into the distance.
Her room wasn't nearly as bad as she had seen on other campus'. It was cramped and small, but clean. Her window faced the courtyard, letting sunlight flood into the room. There was a tiny bathroom off of the side that Christine felt sure she'd have to work for years more to pay off the extra expense of. She sat down on the bed, taking a moment before the tears cane flooding out.
September 11th, 1961
After a week of introduction classes, Christine knew some of the names of people on her floor and in her sculpture group, but she didn't really see it going far. Most people were extroverted on her floor, leaving her in the corner, a little too intimidated to walk over and make conversation in the common rooms.
On the bright side, her room had started to feel like home once she had put up her posters and organised her books and records on the tiny shelf.
February 9th, 1962
Christine flirted about her room, standing in front of the mirror and discarding yet another dress. Nothing felt right. She had been asked out on a date to a blues bar by Edward, a guy studying art history, he was a second year and seemed so mature; and in the heat of the moment, she had accepted. But now she didn't feel the butterflies she felt in her stomach and chest on her high school dates. She put it down to the fact she wasn't breaking any rules anymore- her father had forbidden her from dating, but she'd sneaked out at night anyway.
She should be excited, she told herself- Edward was nice looking and seemed really eager to go out with her- and they already had a mutual interest in music.
February 10th, 1962
Laying in bed, Christine wondered what she had done wrong. The rational part of her mind told her she had done nothing to deserve how he had treated her the previous night, yet she still felt awful. How could it go so wrong?
He couldn't keep up conversation- he lied about liking the music, got her blackout drunk when he slipped something into her drink and leered at her. His hand slid up her skirt and she could barely swat him away, it felt like her arms weren't cooperating as the drug bore through her system. She wasn't sure how she felt- disappointed, humiliated...relieved when the bartender- a grey-haired man with a northern accent noticed her discomfort and took her into the back room, punching Edward square in the nose.
In the back room, a kind woman held her hair back whilst she threw up, stroking her back and telling her she was safe. She didn't feel safe. She felt like her whole body was out of control, vaguely aware of the numb feeling in the tips of her fingers. She drove Christine back to her dorm, making sure she got inside safely.
She sobered herself up, drinking a lot of water and crying into her hands. She hadn't even anticipated that she could be drugged and felt terrified about what could have happened. Eventually, she managed to make her way to the shower, thankful she didn't have to share one as she spent too long under the hot jet of water, scrubbing between her thighs for what seemed like hours. She could still feel his grimy hand there, pressed against her cotton underwear- which she had discarded into the bin, shuddering.
She wanted to cry just thinking about how awful she had felt the previous night, but pushed back the tears. A little part of her wanted to run to the payphone in the common room and call her mother, beg her to come pick her up. But she decided not to- he would not make her miss out.
She was somewhat aware she was missing class, wrapped up under the soft blankets.
The afternoon rolled around and she hadn't gotten up, deciding the day was wasted already. She hugged her pillow tighter, trying to pluck up courage to at least go down to the kitchen and make herself some cereal before classes ended and people came pouring back into the common rooms. But a knock on her door made her jump up, worried Edward had found her room.
She peeked through the door, finding not Edward, but a man she'd met in the print room. Trying to recall his name, she opened the door- Andy....Silvester? That sounded right.
"Hi," she said nervously.
"Hey, you weren't in class today? You okay?"
She smiled,
"Yeah, just had a... rough night."
"Oh," he grinned, "You didn't miss much, we're still looking at Ancient Greek guys."
"Okay," she said, "Thanks. Any essays due?"
"Nothing," he said, "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I will be," she nodded, not feeling like telling someone she barely knew what had happened.
"Okay, well, I should get going," he didn't push any further despite seeing her wet eyes and red cheeks, knowing she'd been crying, "Oh- and next Friday, be in the canteen at twelve. You'll love it!"
"Why?"
"Blues improv."
Christine grinned to herself as he walked back down the corridor, lighting up a cigarette.
April 20th, 1962
She'd gotten a job at the blues bar, playing piano as a warm up act for the band that played there already- Sounds of Blue. Andy was a part of it and he persuaded her to come along, saying she could see the show, meet some new people. Sensing her reluctance, he'd reasoned that it wasn't a date- his girlfriend was going to be there too.
A few shows later, she'd had too many drinks and he persuaded her to play piano on the open mic night and the bartender- now her boss, Gary, recognised her.
Her voice was wobbly on her first paid performance, and she hit a lot of dud notes, but the patrons seemed to enjoy it anyway. She returned home with a hefty tip, which she stashed away in her savings jar under her bed instantly.
June 20th, 1962
No sooner than the first year began, it seemed to end. She found herself on the train home for a few weeks, leaving behind her little routine of classes, coursework and performing- and the few friends she'd made. Christine recalled, with a grin, that Edward had been kicked off of his course, and she had seen him dragging a suitcase down to the gates just ahead of her as she left.
She watched the city roll by, turning into dense foliage as they approached her stop. She ran straight into her mother's waiting arms once she stepped onto the platform, ready for her to talk her ear off about how she'd gotten taller and "too skinny", with a huge smile on her face.
