Youthful Wrath

3 - girl

Standing in front of her principal and two cops, Allison felt anger bubble within her bones. They way they scoffed at her, the way they spoke in such a dismissive tone, the way they wouldn't dare believe her because it was her. She felt the urge to reach up and grab the men, to shake or slap or punch some of her experience and pain into them.

The night of the incident, she couldn't get any sleep. Any time she'd close her eyes, she saw his face and felt his hands against her skin. It burned. It burned her more than these three men could possibly imagine. And yet, somehow, these men had the audacity to tell her that the entire incident was a "misunderstanding." The police had the audacity to tell her that they couldn't charge the boy of anything, since giving her a ride home wasn't illegal.

Allison was incredulous. There was no logical thinking behind their decision. She was almost kidnapped. She was almost killed. She could have died that night, yet all they could say was, "You're a girl. You should have known not to get in that car."

You're a girl. You're a girl. You're a girl.

She couldn't stop her screaming this time. She let it out; all of the anger escaped her lungs and her heart and her brain. Their reply made Allison want to rip her hair out: "Now, now. Let's not get hysterical!"

Hysterical? They considered her hysterical? She slammed her mouth shut and straightened her posture. Confident, stunning, brilliant. She told them that she was fine. She apologized for getting "hysterical." She told them that she didn't want to press charges. She told the principal everything would go back to normal. She promised him that she wouldn't say anything about the boy, because he had a reputation to uphold. He had a good family. He had a future. She couldn't ruin that for him.

She walked out of the principal's office, holding her chin up high. She wasn't going to let them get in her head. Not now, not ever.

___

Maybe she overestimated herself. As she sat in her last class, all she could think about was how she was spoken to. At first, when everything was happening, she really thought it was her fault. Maybe if she educated herself more, maybe if she didn't get into the car, maybe if she looked different, acted differently, been different. But she knew it was wrong of her to blame herself. When she took a step back to look at her situation, she realized that it wasn't her fault. She was nearly kidnapped because bad people exist. Bad people do bad things and that's their fault, not hers!

She only wished that other people would see the same way she did. She wished other people would be less accepting of the bad and more accepting of the good. She wished people would use their eyes and brains instead of wandering around aimlessly.

The teacher called on Allison, pulling her out of her angry trance. "Do you know the answer, Allison?" He asked.

Of course, she had no idea what the man had been droning on about. She had bigger things to worry about than some science lesson.

"No. Sorry."

The teacher glared at Allison, giving her one of his strongest disappointed faces. He makes that face at her constantly, but this time, she felt disappointed in herself, too.