Broken (Eli Goldsworthy Fanfic)

Chapter 1 - Monsters

           

            As a kid, I used to find comfort in the fact that my parents could chase away the monsters. Anything that made me upset or scared me a little was easy to get rid of; My parents would come into my room, flick on the light, look under my bed and glance in my closet. Then, they would sit on the edge of my bed, stroke my hair, give me a hug and a kiss on the forehead, and reassure me that I was completely safe and nothing was going to hurt me. That was all I’d ever needed, at the time. If I got scared in the night, all I had to remember was that Mom or Dad scared away the monsters. That’s all it took. I slept easy. I wasn’t afraid.

            The older I get, the more I realize that the real monsters aren’t the ones you can run from. You can’t hide from them, get someone to keep them away or comfort you. The real monsters are the ones that terrify you, and stick around to haunt you. They make your skin crawl and your stomach turn, but you can’t get rid of them. The real monsters are more than just scary—they are dangerous. The real monsters make you begin to hate yourself.

            My memories of that night are still crystal clear. Every single detail, every single second, every little thought that flickered through my head is still extremely vibrant, as if it were just yesterday. Those memories aren’t going to go away. They’re just going to keep chasing me, haunting me like some sick ghost that feeds off of my fear. The demons trapped in my head are never going to leave—they’re just going to linger there, taunting me. I’m never going to stop living through this torture.

            I was the type of girl who liked to spend her nights at home, messing around on tumblr and studying rather than going out and getting drunk like everyone else. I was the smart one, the innocent, kind one. I was the nice one. I was the girl who was friends with basically everyone, but didn’t have to be a slut to get there. I was the one who was always considered pretty, but never got any boys. I was popular, but deep down, a loser. I’d never had a boyfriend. Still a virgin. I didn’t like parties. I didn’t like getting drunk or getting high. I cared about my grades. I liked intriguing conversation. I wasn’t a normal teenage girl.

            But everything all came crashing down.

            I was staying late at the library one night, working on an essay due the next day. By the time I got out of there, the sky was pitch black, and the streets were pretty empty; I walked home—I didn’t have a car, I was too broke—my mind still buzzing with whatever the topic of the essay was. Not once did I feel unsafe, or concerned about my safety. Not once did I think about calling my parents for a ride home—I mean, I lived pretty close, just a couple blocks away. I’d figured everything was fine. After all, we lived in a fairly small town—everybody knew each other. I’d grown up with these people. If I came across someone, I’d give them a friendly smile and greet them. These people were my family.

            I was wrong. I wasn’t safe. I couldn’t trust the people in that town. I was a target.

            When I was two blocks away from my house, someone called my name from behind me. When I turned, I realized it was a guy from my school—he was a jock, star of the football team. He called me over. Since everyone in our town is pretty friendly, I obliged, and walked up to him. Then he grabbed my arm, roughly. I could smell the liquor on his breath. He was hurting me. I pushed him off of me, but he grabbed me again, harder this time. More guys came—some were from the football team, some weren’t—and surrounded me in a circle. They were all hammered; they could barely stand without tipping over. They all grabbed at me, poked me. I tried to get away, but they held me tightly. They pushed me over into an alley, and started ripping at my clothes. I tried to scream, but one of their hands grabbed my throat, strangling me. I fell to the ground. They hit me, punched me, slapped me. I began to cry, begging for them to stop. Then, one of them tore off my pants, ripped my panties off of me.