AdSense Page Ads

Thursday, November 7, 2013

The Day I Lost Her

"I'm leaving, Seth."

My gut felt like a knot. I knew she was up to something when she asked to meet up in the airport. I had to rush through the traffic, because she said don't be late. I'm lucky I didn't get any ticket or worse, any accident as I drove like a madman. All I could think about was her, and I fervently hoping she was okay. Then I walked into the coffee shop and I saw a huge backpack next to her. And I knew all was lost.


She handed me her plane tickets. 

"When will you be back?" I knew the answer, but I just had to ask.

"I'm staying for good. I got a teaching position there."

I was still holding her ticket, fighting back the tears. "This is a third world country. A terrorist country. Are you insane?"

"No. I've thought about it carefully. I need to go Seth. I need to be whole again. And please, don't call it a terrorist country."

"It wasn't your fault!" I blurted out. "It wasn't your fault what they did to you!!"

She smiled, looking so serene. "I know it wasn't my fault Seth. But does it matter?"
"The pictures are there, Seth; and so does the video. It will never go away."

"We can go to the police, we can put them behind bars. Come on, you can't just run away!"

"Sure we can, and what will they get? A few years in jail, or maybe none at all. And in the mean time, I had to live with those pictures and video." 

She looked intently at the coffee in her cup.

"People say I am a whore, Seth. People blame me for going to that party and drink. People say I get what I deserve. I got a teaching degree and I don't think I can ever use it here. I can't think how a school would want such an infamous person to teach their young children."

Her tears fell one by one into the cup; first so slowly, then it was a stream of tears. It reminded me of the first storm we encountered as a child together. Back then I kept asking myself, will it ever stop; I found myself asked the same question now.

"And if I have a child, what would I say to her, or to him? That mom was raped in a party just like a cheap whore? And if I found a man that I would love, can he lived with all those pictures and video? I need to go Seth. I want to go and leave this all behind."

I was numb. "It is not your fault. They drugged you. They rape you."

"Seth," she laughed sadly, "Does it even matter?"
"There are pictures of me being 'done' by two men, of their derogatory 'handicrafts' with Sharpie on my body, there are pictures of me being used as a sex object when I passed out, and a whole video of their games. They have their fucking Facebook page for God's sake. Does it even matter how I got there?"

"So this is it? You are basically running away?"

"Yes Seth, if you want to put it that way. Yes." She looked up from her cup and looked into my eyes, "I was actually thinking of kicking the bucket, you know. Just get it done with. But then I thought, those images would live forever. Even after I am gone, those images would still be around."

"I will not let them destroy me Seth. I will outlive their deed."

"By what? Going to a Muslim country and live there? This is suicide! Just another form of suicide!"

"Seth, that is not a Muslim country. It has a huge population of Muslim but it is a Democratic Republic. See, I've done my homework."

"You'll just get raped again there. They don't value women for Christ's sake! How can you be so naive and think you would fare better there?? Come one, get real! We have laws here, not so dumbass corrupt officials that needed bribes. We have freedom here!"

"Freedom for what, Seth? Freedom to violate someone else because society said it's ok? What's so different with them?"

"You are sick. You need professional help."

"No I'm not. But you know what I do need, Seth? I need to get out of this hell hole."

She took a deep breath and was silent for a few minutes.

"I thought it was fun, Seth. Mimosa or Champagne brunches, bar hopping, cocktail nights, there was always alcohol around. I thought it was fun, and only weirdos and ultra-fanatic zealots that would say no to alcohol. Then it happened. I am not sure it was fun anymore."

"You were drugged for God's sake! You could have been drinking water when they drugged you, not alcohol!"

"True. But I can easily passed out myself from all the drinks. And when shits happen, I am on my own. Isn't it ironic that our society dictates alcohol and sex to be a part of our culture, but do not protect me from the disastrous result?"

She smiled, "You said they don't value women. It was so wrong. But even so, wouldn't it be nice to have some limit? To actually stop being intoxicated just to fit in, to actually treat sex like a big deal. It's good to have some "No"s once in a while."

We sat in silent, and I accompanied her to the boarding gate 10 minutes later. None of us spoken, except for a sorrowful goodbye that she whispered in my ears when I hug her tight. And with that, my friend was gone forever. 

I walked back to my car and sat there for a long time, painfully trying to memorize the warmth of her body from our last hug. I tried to recall her smile and her laughter, the beautiful soul that I had known throughout our childhood, my beloved friend for almost all of my life. But I couldn't. All that I can remember was her tears, her agony, her sufferings. And the photos. The wretched photos and video. Then my phone beeped.

Message from Louis K
Hey Bro, the new stuff is here. Just in time for the party tonite ;) :)

My hands trembled and bile was rising quickly to my throat, my eyes were teary as I tried hard to stop the the incoming vomit. It took me a while to calm myself, and when I did, I cried for a long time. It just dawned me that the 'bitches' that my 'bros' preyed were somebody's daughter, somebody's friend, somebody's sister. And it could have been my daughter, my sister, my friend. I remember the last girl I raped in our last party, her face kept surfacing in my mind, with tears flowing endlessly. And then the one before that, and the one before that, and so on. Their faces intermingle with each other and so was their tears until somehow it become Lisa's face, my dearest friend Lisa who was like a sister to me. And I saw her mouthed that sorrowful goodbye. I cried in agony: "I'm sorry. I am so so sorry...!!!

-Dedicated to Roast Busters victims. Stay strong ladies.  

No comments:

Post a Comment

Search This Blog