Page 81 of Heavy

My legs have nothing to give me leverage, and as I kick to find anything, I’m forcefully dragged back through. I attempt at hooking my legs down, tearing one of my hands away from the one holding my hair and grabbing the bars to not be pulled back into this house.

“Help! Help! Please help, anyone!” I’m done calling for my mom.

Another hand grabs my arm, and tears me backward. In one motion I’m brought back. A heat slices through my leg, and I scream out in pain, no longer just in terror.

I can’t even focus on the hands on me, because the agony from my leg makes my body shake uncontrollably—I think I’m going into shock.

“Shit, she’s bleeding!”

I try to lean forward, to see what has happened, but my back is shoved onto the floor. “Bitch just had to run, get the fucking first aid kit. I can’t have someone else dying in this house.”

Thrashing around does nothing, but I’m hysterical. My calf is on fire and fear has completely overtaken any control on my body I had.

Pain erupts across my face. “Settle the fuck down. Jay, get me the fucking rivo.” The eye closest to where he slapped me feels like a weight is bearing down on it.

A body straddles over my chest as someone else grabs my arms, and then I feel a pinch at the center of my bicep. My head snaps up, and I see a needle slowly pulling out of my skin.

“No! Please… please, don’t do this… please…” I’m suffocating, going blind,dying.

The weight on my chest isn’t from this grown man pinning me down but from whatever’s been pumped into my veins. It’s pulling me away, deeper and deeper, until his face blurs and twists, morphing into something monstrous—a demon that can’t share the same space as the beautiful one I once knew.

“Wrap her fucking leg up, I don’t want that much of a mess.”

The world around me disappears, and I’m submerged into Hell. That’s the only place that makes sense.

“I hope she’s a virgin, at least then it’ll be worth the trouble.”

I wish the substance would have knocked me out instead of just making me incapable of using my limbs. Lulling me into a calm I don’t want to have.

I still feel everything. See everything…

I want to die, please let me die.

I was trapped in that house for three days, and my mom doesn’t remember anything that happened.

I do…

I remember everything, and it’s why I’ve not left my room in two weeks. She’s telling me I’m being dramatic, that myfallwas my own fault. I had to have sixteen stitches, and it was infected because they wouldn’t take me to a hospital.

I’m barely able to walk, and when my coach called me to ask why I had been missing practice, I told him I wouldn’t be able to cheer for the rest of the semester. It’s not even from the wound in my calf, I mean, physically yes it is. The doctor told me I’d need to do physical therapy due to the muscle damage, and the scar tissue that likely will form from the stitches.

I don’t even want to cheer anymore.

I never want to put on that uniform ever again.

It’s currently staring at me, hanging over the back of my desk chair. Like a fucking cursed doll, it won’t go away.

“She isn’t even crying, she wants it.”

I hide under my covers, the sounds of their voices, the touch of their hands, it’s all playing over and over. The record is broken, and I don’t know how to stop it.

“Virgin cunts feel so good.”

“Please make it stop!” Grabbing my pillow, I shove it over my face and scream. Depleting all my air and holding it down, willing myself to allow it to suffocate me.

I can’t, because I’m weak. The moment my body jerks for sustenance to keep me living, I throw aside the pillow and curl into a tight ball. I’d never thought my virginity was anything special, as long as it was me who chose to give it away.

I’m afraid… not because of the memories, but because Ididn’tcry. I screamed ‘no’, for them to stop, but I never shed tears. I’m defective, and maybe I did want it.