Black Iris

Red herring.

Warning: Chapter contains references to sexual assault.

Iris

I didn't want it.

When I was fourteen, and I met Blake, I didn't want his attention. It all felt wrong. The sly comments. The flirting. But in that library, I was scared. My boss had told me to always be nice to patrons. Besides, he seemed like a nice enough guy, and he was always studying, so how bad could he be?

So I placated him, smiled and played along.

I should have told someone there and then. If I had, it would have never gotten to where it did. I might still be okay. Just a normal person, not the mess I am today.

Ophelia, too.

But I didn't tell anyone. And I let it happen, because I was too scared to speak out. What if I was just being paranoid?

When Blake invited me for coffee, I tried to say no. He had laughed and grabbed my arm, gently gripping my hand, not tight, but tight enough to scare me.

"Come on," He'd said, "It's just coffee."

And I was too scared to refuse.

It wasn't that bad, I told myself. He was kind of cool. Studying at college and all. Living out of home. I almost looked up to him. He was living the life I could only dream of.

So I convinced myself it was cool. That he was chill.

Then, one day, he invited me to a party. One of his college party's. Said it would be an opportunity for me to get out of my shell. Said he would look after me.

So, I went.

I dressed myself up. Put on makeup. Tried to look as mature as I could. Snuck out, without my parents knowing. Blake picked me up around the corner, and drove us to the frat house.

The makeup and outfit worked a charm. Sure, I looked young, but most people assumed I was in my final year of high school, or first year of college. I was tall for my age.

It was exhilarating being there. Until it wasn't. So, I asked Blake to take me home.

But, he didn't. He told me he wasn't done yet. Then, he grinned, and asked if I wanted to go somewhere quiet. Not wanting to be in the crowded party any longer, I agreed. So he took my hand and gently led me out of the house and down the street, to a nice dorm building. He led me inside, and into the elevator.

Once the doors slid shut, he started getting handsy. Rubbing my thigh. Tracing his fingers along my sides. Breathing down my neck. I stayed tremendously still, not sure what to do.

Then, we reached his floor, and he led me towards his room. It was a private dorm, neat and meticulously tidy. And he dumped his stuff, locked the door, and started kissing me.

I let him, for a while. Then, when his hands reached for the hem of my dress, I grabbed them and shook my head.

"I don't want to, Blake."

He looked hurt and his features shifted. "You don't want to? You don't want to? That's not what it seemed like at the party, when you kept looking at me with those eyes. Brushing up against me. Showing off your tight little dress. It certainly seemed like you want to."

A guilty lump rose in my throat. "I- I don't. It feels wrong."

He looked angry. "Wrong? You want to tell me this is wrong? You're the one that keeps teasing me, bitch, then pulling away when we're finally getting somewhere. You can't do that to someone, Gwen. Lead them on then say you don't want it."

The guilt threatened to overwhelm me, and I pulled away, pulling myself together.

"Okay," I said in a small voice. He raised an eyebrow so I continued. "You're right. I shouldn't have teased you. I've just- I've never done this before."

His face softened at that.

"That's okay, baby. I know. So let me teach you, okay? I can show you how to make me feel good. You want that, right? For me to feel good?" He said. I nodded quickly, and he smiled. "Good girl. You're so precious. Now, this is going to be fun, alright? For both of us."

And I mutely nodded.

With that, he leant back in, and started kissing me, his lips burning with need. He moulded me like putty, and I did what he told me to do because I was too scared to say no again. What if he got violent? Besides, I thought that he was right. I shouldn't have teased him. It was only fair I follow through.

And so, it happened.

Not the same way it happened to her. With her, he threw all subtlety out of the door.

With me, he was slow. Careful. Gently placing seeds of self doubt in my mind. Slowly wrapping me in his control.

And I was young, and naive, and didn't know how to say no. Didn't know when to speak up.

So no, I didn't want it.

But he took me anyway. 

And, years later, sitting in his basement with her, I finally told someone the truth. I told her about that night. And the nights after it. The power he had over me, constantly berating me, controlling me, making me feel small and weak.

I told her about everything.

And she didn't tell the world.

At first, I was confused. She'd included the gory parts of so much else, every moment she spent with Blake, every other conversation we ever had, but not that one.

And, the more time passed, the more I believed that she did it for me. That she did it to protect me.

Because she knew that it wasn't her story to tell.

It's mine.

And in her book, some things didn't add up. There were pieces out of place, details that were fuzzy. Things that didn't fit. Some people thought it was just because the experience was traumatic so things got fuzzy. Others thought it was evidence the narrative was faked.

The reality was that a lot of those pieces were to distract from the moments she kept out. The pieces were I broke down in front of her about how much he had hurt me. How much he'd manipulated me. She kept in just a fragment of how I truly felt about him.

To protect me. Because she knew that I was still with him. And that he still had Jackson under his thumb.

I was a red herring, to distract Blake from the truth.

The truth that I've never been on his side. I have always been against him.

I was just too scared to admit it.

And I'm still scared. But I know now, I can't let this keep happening. I can't let Blake hurt more girls how he hurt me. How he hurt her.

I'm done letting him control me.

It's time to fight.