Stranger (Eddie Munson)

pt: 51 My Story

tw: mention of sa

It's been 4 days since I was discharged. I'm now cleared to go to school, which means I can graduate! The whole gang has come over at least once in the past week, except Eddie, whom I told not to even think about seeing me before he is sober. That doesn't mean he hasn't called. He's left me notes—I've yet to open. You could say I'm pissed, but I don't think that's a strong enough word.

Anyways, today's my first day of school in almost two months. I know all eyes are on me. Everyone wants to know, to see, to hear. And I am ready to tell, show and teach everything.

"Oh my god, Ellie. You look amazing!" Robin smiles widely. My skin is still stained by Jason. Do I cover my scars, my bruises, my pain? Hell no! My story demands to be heard and heard it will! "Do you have your 'speech' planned out?" Dustin literally puts air quotes. "Down to the second." Steve puts his arm around my shoulder. "I'll pick you up?" I don't plan to ask about Eddie, even if I want to. He doesn't deserve that right now. However, he's obviously not here, so it shouldn't be a problem.

When I get to my first class, there's an empty seat next to me. Everyone is turned around to look at me. I sit there, staring at the board, knowing someone will ask me to speak. Luckily, Mrs. O'Donnell normally is relaxed, and I have all of my work finished.
"Ellie? Could you please tell us what happened?" A girl in the front row, Veronica asked.
"If she's okay with it, she could use the class. Since she finished her work in my class, of course." Mrs. O'Donnell replied.
"I'm ready," I say, my voice booming a little louder than I expected. I walked to the front of the class room and sat in a chair that was situated in the middle of the class.

A deep breath.

"I will never be able to forget the feeling. The feeling of his hands running against my body, my face, my pants—which were removed. The feeling of the gun pressed to my head. All of my trust dragged away from me with just the touch of his fingertips. He made me feel as if I could die right there in that moment. The tears that streamed down my face the minute he closed the door. He imprint of his hand on my stomach is permanently carved into me. Every word he said only reminded me my pleading meant nothing.

"I guess you could say that I should have expected it. I should have expected him to do that when he continuously harassed me at and after school. I guess I should have expected it when I found a note telling me he raped a girl, only to find her dead a few days later. I should've expected it when he tried to run me over with his car, only to throw me in the back and rape me. I should've expected it when he felt no remorse, later that day. I should've expected it when he teased me for it. I should've expected it when he kidnapped and murdered my best friend's mom. I should have expected it.

"I've scrubbed my skin for hours in the shower. Hoping maybe his touch would rub off, but it never does. It never will. Were my screams not enough? Were my no's not vague enough for you? You've made a little spot in my brain telling me—reminding me—whispering, 'get on the bed' 'You already have to let me do what I want, because I can kill you at any moment. And you know that.'

"I am afraid. I don't go anywhere without someone I trust. Steve, during these past few days. I'm afraid if someone looks at me, they will see what happened. They might want to use me, too. Kill me.  Some days I wonder, if I died, would this have been different? I certainly wouldn't be living with this much fear, and the pain.

"Oh the pain you put me through, Jason. I can still feel the whip cracking, breaking my skin open. When God comes down to punish you for your sins, I hope he whips you until you bleed, begging on your knees, 'oh god give me mercy. Stop.' And he will tell you, 'you should've stopped.'

"I guess I should tell you my story. Prior to being raped by Jason Carver. I went on a vacation. It was apparent later that Jason had planned to kidnap me, but mistakenly took my best friend Max's mother instead. She was missing for weeks. I ended up paying rent, groceries—all from my 3 jobs I work to keep us steady. A little while later, Eddie took me on a date. A double date to be specific. Max Mayfield and Lucas Sinclair were there too. We went to this amazing restaurant, and we all had an awesome time. Eddie, Max, Lucas, and I all drove home and planned to have fun and goof off. Eddie asked me if I wanted to make a quick stop, so we did. We dropped off Lucas and Max, and we headed to the gas station. When we got there, I told Eddie I'd stay in the car. When he got inside the store, I had a gun held to my head. I was told to get out of the car, and before I knew it I was being driven into a cabin in the woods.

"He did nasty things to me. Despicable things. Things I'm definitely not aloud to say on school grounds. I can tell you he beat me. He shoved me to the ground and kicked, punched, threw things at me. He broke my ribs. He starved me.

"I guess what I want to say is don't pity me. It may be hard to once you've heard all this. But what he did deserves to be known no matter who says it. The kind of monster he is should be displayed for every eye to see. I wish I could have a mother who could hold me so tight that his grip let's go. But she's the same monster as him. Both of these monsters took something from me. My dad, and my childhood, my virginity, whatever—pardon my french—the fuck you want to call it. I'm still a child. I don't have a car yet. I don't have a house. I don't have children, at least I hope not. I've never traveled the world. I still have a life to live! But...he's trapped me in a box.

"And I will never be able to forget the feeling."

I look up, don't speak for a moment. I feel naked. As if I just shown everyone the real me. Then a roar of applause. I looked down, not daring to smile, but I feel I would've.

"Any questions?" I ask. And almost the entire classroom raised their hand. I point to one.
"Can we see the whip scars?" The girl asks. "Actually, you can," I turn around and raise my shirt up a little bit, showing my back. The entire class gasped. Then, there was quick walking and a door slam. I drop my shirt and turn to see who it was. Whoever it was, was gone.
"So was Jason there the whole time?" A guy asked.
"No, he left during the day most days."
"So why didn't you just leave? Through the doors or the windows?"
"The door was locked from the outside, and the windows were sealed shut."
"So how did you get out?"
"There was a false wall in the bathroom that had a window that was wasn't sealed."

The bell rang, but I haven't left yet. I am struggling to breathe. Dustin walks down the hallway, catching his eye. "Ellie, are you okay?" "Yea, just," I huff for a minute, "give me a second." "Your next class is Kaminsky's right?" "Yeah." "I'll walk you."

I didn't say anything in Kaminsky's class, even though most people wanted me to say things. I am told that, 'I'm taking my trauma well.' But in reality, I'm suffocating. The news will spread like wildfire, and I won't have to share my story again.

When lunch came around, I stuck with Max. I didn't eat much, taken over by the excruciating migraine circling my head like sharks to chum. Max only realized when I threw most of my food away.
"Ellie, are you okay?" Is the first thing she asked.
"Yeah," my hand travels to my head, "just nauseous."
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Imma be fr and say that i was sa'd. by my best friend. so writing things like this is part of my coping. i'm sorry if you don't like it :).