If Only Tears Could Move Mountains

Chapter Four

I was sitting on the bus admiring the journal that the lady with the red hair had given me. I started to gaze out the window and noticed how bland the scenery was. There was a bunch of greenish/brownish looking grass. There was a large amount of gigantic sized trees. Somehow my thoughts traced back to the journal so I pulled it out. It was actually pretty cool. It was a reddish brown color on the outside and the pages on the inside were made from recycled paper. There was a brown string that wrapped around the entire journal, maybe two or three times. The string kept the journal closed. There was some type of unique looking button sewn to the front of the journal where I could wrap the remainder of the string after wrapping it around, in order to keep it closed. There were pictures of animals and symbols engraved into the cover. The material of the cover was some type of thin leather. I was actually impressed. So I made a conscious decision that I would write in it. Two days later I wrote my first journal entry...

Journal Entry #1
Today I saw him. As the door opened up he was standing there, on the elevator, looking back at me. He smirked when he saw me. At the hearing they said that he would be required to move to a different dorm. He smirked as if nothing had happened. Lately I haven't been feeling like Maori. I just really don't want to be bothered with people's fake concerns. Everybody is just so fake. So I haven't been leaving my room. The one day I decide to venture off of my normal routine and leave my room...I run into him. Some nights I turn off all the lights and I light candles. I sit on the edge of my bed and think about what happened to me. I try to force my mind to remember "the incident" but I have no memory. The only memory I have from that night is walking into Cane's room. When I walked in he looked at me and said, "damn, I'm tryna get where you at". He was referring to my level of intoxication. That's honestly all I remember, no matter how long or hard I think. I just can't remember anything other than that. I wonder what Cane thinks of the situation. Is he sorry? Does he feel like what he did was wrong? Or does he feel like I'm trying to frame him? Who am I kidding! I know the answer to all these questions. I know he doesn't give a fuck. He doesn't think there's a goddamn thing wrong with what he did. Especially since Kareem went around telling everybody that he had sex with with me and that I wasn't no virgin. It turns out that Kareem and Cane are friends or associates, whatever they wanna call themselves. How convenient. I don't know how I didn't recognize that. I don't ever recall seeing them together. Like not ever! I swear. As soon as I saw him my heart dropped. I felt a sharp pain in my stomach next thing I knew I was bent over throwing up as the elevators door were closing. I don't understand how I started throwing up. But I was. Just the sight of him disturbed me. I just don't understand why. That's is my biggest question. Why? Why me? He knew I was a virgin. He knew I didn't want to have sex with him. There were so many times he tried to have sex with me and I told him I didn't want to loose my virginity in no dorm room bed. So why wait for me to be drunk to have sex with me? I am so confused. My silenced thoughts attacked me when I saw him. I believe that's what caused me to throw up. Thank God I was with Yvette, my volleyball teammate. She asked if I was okay and held all my hair back out my face. She seemed scared. When I was finished throwing up on myself I went to the bathroom. I washed my hands and rinsed my mouth out with water. I looked in the mirror. I was a mess. I told Yvette I'd meet her at the cafe. She didn't buy it though. She told me everything was going to be okay and asked if I wanted her to bring me anything back from the cafe. I told her I was fine that I had lost my appetite. Smh! This nigga took everything from me. My virginity. My reputation. My sanity. And now my goddamn appetite. The craziest part is, I opened the door for him to do it.

I closed my journal and placed it underneath my pillow. I started crying. Not sobbing though, just silent tears. I looked at the clock it was about 6:30pm. I hand an hour before practice started. I figured, I'll take a quick nap. I didn't wake up until the next morning. My eyes were swollen from all the crying. I looked at my phone. 23 missed calls, 17 text messages. I didn't feel like reading them all. I jumped up and got ready for class. I had to rush because my teacher didn't play around with all the whole coming into his class late thing and I didn't feel like any unnecessary attention.