The air is so cold it freezes in the back of my throat and in my lungs, coating my respiratory system in a smooth layer of ice. Every breath sliding in and out too quickly and too shallow. My steps are guided by the beat of the music bouncing off my eardrums and as the song changes the tempo and my pace does as well.
I feel too automatic now, my legs, separate from the rest of my body, put foot in front of foot and I am lead in a direction foreign to me. The innocent brown eyes on my face have an all knowing but blank look in them. Really they are just my mask, to hide the chaos in my mind, to keep it from spilling out into my facial expressions.
Like a twisted dream I keep replaying what just happened, trying to push the thought out of my head and onto the pavement. If I just continue on, pretend like he didn't grab me, pretend like he didn't hold me down, pretend like he didn't force me out of my kilt and school sweater, pretend like he wasn't in me, pretend he didn't make me look into his dark eyes and tell him I love him, maybe then the whole thing will disappear, undoing the moment in time and self-destruct.
At just that moment the song switches over to a slower tempo dance song and the ice in the back of my throat breaks causing a domino effect. The ice all the way down to my lungs break apart, stabbing my throat causing me to squeak out a pained whimper. My legs give up suddenly, tripping themselves up and bringing the sidewalk to my level. Somewhere in the mid-air the screen separating my brain and my physical reactions, was shredded and the pain flooded out.
Lying on the ground in the late October cold I've never felt more pathetic.
Blubbering like a baby, my shoulders shaking my bag off and onto the pavement yanking my earphones with it. For the first time since I redressed myself less then an hour ago, I allow myself to feel. The ache between my legs, my shattered throat feels bloody from screaming, my knees are definetly going to be bruised as well as my shoulders from being pushed and pulled back down. Out of all the pain on my body, the one thing that hurts the most is that he was my friend.
How?
Why?
I just wish I knew what he was thinking when he decided it was me he wanted. What did I do to lead him on? I'm such an idiot. I'm an idiot who doesn't know what to do. He didn't mean it, he loves me, it was a mistake, and I had it coming.
My sub-conscious tells me to rush to my best friend and put my nightmare into words. He'll help me. But I will not listen to that little voice, I know better. It will be a secret between me, myself, and I. No one would believe me anyway, even if they did they would think I was a whore who had it coming. As I come to my decision I pick my broken self off the ground. Sucking back the tears and wiping my face with my scratchy wool mitten, I fake composure. In this unfamiliar neighborhood there is no one in sight who witnessed my mini meltdown. I place my mask back on. I must practice, no one will ever know what happened to me. Before I trap this incident in the deep, dark space of unwanted memories I have to get ride of the last piece of him on me. I sneak back, behind an Indian restaurant that looks like it's been there for at least 20 years, and I slip off my underwear. I bury them in a delivery bag and throw it into the dumpster. Pulling down my kilt as far as I can, I walk calmly away with tears behind my eyes and a secret lodged into my heart.
Two blocks. Can you believe that's only how far I made it?
My legs are covered in goose bumps and my skirt is swaying too high in the frigid air.
I can't go on any longer, at least not right now.
Dragging my cement school flats with me, I slump onto a grafittied covered bus bench and tuck my ankles under me.
