HER HERO

rape victim

I was just staring at nothingness when Murry stops the car and he looked at me giving me confidence. Take off the seatbelt, then get out of the car. I caught up with Ms. Rogers as we enter the building. Murry put his hand on my shoulder as we walk in. We headed to the hearing about the case of Dario's death. I met Mrs. Jones. The judge started reading about the preceding of the case. Murry was next to me, awaiting the court's decision in the case of Dario's death.

And he was pleaded guilty because we hold strong evidence against him. But I will not be able to rejoice because the one I should be thankful for has died. Jago is dead, I can no longer see how he smiled that day, that we succeeded in the case. Murry hugged me and I saw how he cried with joy. And at least there is justice for Dario's death.

I told Murry that I would go to the restroom, and when I got there I quickly looked in the mirror, looked at my broken self, with the amount of bitterness that happened, in all the tragedy, things that even I wanted to see the positive side I couldn't. I washed my face and pulled out some tissue paper.

''You will not be expelled from this school, they have erred in their accusations against you.'' Jasper began when I entered school while we were talking in the hallway and I took out my books from my locker.

''That doesn't matter to me anymore, the important people in my life have died. So if I were you, don't get closer, you might be mess up.'' I say then turn away.

''I don't care, it's not your fault at all.'' He announced while he still follows me.

I was irritated by him showing up that afternoon, is a tough emotion. It's in my nature to get back up and give it everything I have. I kinda felt dejected, It's hard to want a thing that much, and feels that it is beyond reach. But I always want what I want and the second best will never do. I've stopped asking what "optimal" is; in this depression, I'm not seeking the happier version of me.

Later that week, the student in Northwood headlines took suicide, and they found Jago's body in the river. The investigations tells that he jumps off the river. Murry said that I would just stay with Northwood if that would make me happy, he was not that strict anymore and I felt how much I regretted the hours I wasted being with him. I know how hard it has been for him these past few years for us.

Jasper noticed that I immersed myself to study, incongruous I acted like a truant, my grades went up and I often talk to Murry and mom. Jasper is there even though he keeps annoying me, he still doesn't leave, and pressure evanesce.

''We are observing a month-long of Domestic Violence Awareness Month, if any of you knows about these experiences you can share them with your class.'' Our teachers say as I sat and Jasper was there and I knew he was looking at me.

''Any violence is a behavior involving physical force intended to hurt, damage, or kill someone or something.'' She added.

After my classmates volunteered, my teacher called me to stand up, they are waiting for me to say something. I couldn't seem to get started, I even lost a word. My chest felt like it was going to explode. I can not take it anymore, left the classroom hurriedly to stay away from them, I know what I did was rude but I chose to be alone but did not know that Jasper followed me.

I'm out of breath and hold onto the wall.

''Hey, are you alright?'' He asked.

''Just go!'' I'm sick in the head, throwing him off.

''What's wrong with you? Tell me, so I can help you.''

''You can't okay? Just go, I'm fine!'' I drove him away.

I went out and exit the door left him wondering, and never entered my class again that day.

Years after Catherine was raped she would smell semen and sweat with no source of either. The scent would be as strong as it was on that July afternoon. Her heart rate would accelerate and she would attempt to control her breathing rate. Always she would check her nails for dirt. After the attack, they had been ripped, broken, and bleeding from clawing at the mud to escape. For that reason, she would never wear nail polish. Seeing was believing. Otherwise, she would be dragged back into a full-blown flashback, checking herself for the blood that had run down her legs from the rips, seeing the face of her attackers on every man that walked by in the street. She had been hospitalized many times, lost in psychosis, fighting her torturers off again and again. But clean nails could stop the cycle. If her mind ever manufactured the dirt as it did for the smell she would be lost in that nightmare world once more; reliving, refighting, hurting, terrified.