Predator

Chapter Four

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I'm running down the main hallway at McKinley; only now it's seemingly-endless, and I desperately search for a door, a window, any kind of way out. He's chasing me, though I can't see him and I can't remember anything before now, I know he's chasing me. I can hear his heavy footsteps echoing around the corner. Suddenly to my left, there it is, the choir room door! I practically throw myself at it and I yank on the knob. Argh! It's not budging! Frustrated tears boil in my eyes, I hear myself screaming in fright as the footsteps become louder.

I give it another good, hard pull, and the door swings open. The force of it makes me fall and land hard on my butt. I start to get back up, but I stop when I look into the room before me. Everything's pitch black, except for the glowing green eyes peering at me from above.

His green eyes.

I try to scream but nothing comes out. I try to move my legs but it's like they're stuck in quicksand. I can only look back up at him as he steps out of the shadows and -what?! I'm naked! This doesn't make any sense, I was just wearing my favorite purple dress, the one that I- burned? But I don't have time to think about this, he's on me! Screams of agony resonate in my ears, because they're my screams I realize, because he's tearing away my skin with his teeth! He raises his long, ragged claws and looks into my eyes with his demonic ones and-

I'm staring into my daddy's face. Screaming, I flail around pathetically and beat my arms against his chest in response. Him and dad are laughing now but I fail to see anything humorous about this, I'm still shaking from whatever just happened to me! Oh wait a minute, I realize, looking around at my bedroom briefly. It was another dream.

"Well good morning to you too, sunshine!" Daddy chuckles. I groan and shove my head back under the covers.

"It's Saturday," I mutter. "You don't have to wake me up so early."

"Why Rachie, it's almost eleven in the morning!" I hear Dad say. Really? Damn, what's happening to me?

"We figured you've gotten enough rest, don't you want to hear about our trip to Chicago?" he asks.

"You mean like all your other stupid trips to Chicago?"

I hear a pause. "Rachel, is there something wrong?"

"No."

The blanket is peeled away from my head, but most of my face is still pressed against the pillow. Daddy looks at me with a sympathetic frown. "Did something happen while we were away? Are you having boy troubles?...That Finn Hudson boy?"

"No!" I protest, maybe a little too quickly. I toss my head uncomfortably. At least I'm not lying about Finn.

"I'm just...tired."

He sighs. "I know you better than-" suddenly he gasps, and Dad does too. What?

"Rachel, your eye!" exclaims Dad. "Something did happen, you little actress!"

Damn it! I forgot about my eye!

"I just ran into a door," rolls off my tongue. "I...I wasn't looking where I was going and I turned my head and smacked it into an open door, right in front of everybody in the hallway. Everyone made fun of me and my eye still hurts, and that's why I'm in a bad mood."

Thank God for my talents in impromptu story-telling.

My dads share a knowing glance and then Daddy frowns at me again. "Rachel if some-"

Then he stops, shaking his head slightly as if dismissing the thought. "Oh, never mind," he says good-naturedly. "I was just worried you got into a fight or something, but I know that's simply preposterous!"

Dad laughs. "I can just imagine it! Our Rachel getting into a fist-fight with someone trying to steal a solo!"

They laugh again and I smack him playfully on the shoulder, relief settling in my chest. "Meanie."

"Well," Daddy says, clasping his hands together as he stands, "why don't we have ourselves a little homecoming celebration with my famous soy milk pancakes!"

I nod with a smile, and they get off my bed and leave. While I should be relieved that I managed to keep this from my dads, I can't help but wonder why I feel guilty about something that wasn't even my fault.

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I wear a sweater and a scarf, although it's still a little hot out. Doesn't matter. They cover up the bruises.

When I sit in the grass, it still hurts down there. I know it's only been two days, but I can't help but wonder if it always will, because right now it seems like nothing is ever going to go away. I'm always going to have this stupid black eye people keep staring at. I'm always going to have to make an effort to pee, because it  hurts so bad. I'm always going to jump at sudden loud sounds, or any sound at all.

But I'm never going to have my virginity back. I'm never going to have my innocence, or pride. I'm never going to be normal. Not after this.

Damn him!

Damn him for making me feel so humiliated for something that he did! I can't be out here in public without feeling everybody looking at me, judging me. I feel so ashamed! I shouldn't be, but I am! I feel so...unworthy, to be this pretending part of society. People walk past me, doing what they're supposed to, playing the part they were assigned. Here I am, a fifteen year-old girl they assume is like all the others. They don't know about what I've done!

And damn him to hell that I have to sit here, pretending! Because of him I'm a disgrace, I'm trash! I can't be fifteen anymore!

Down the hill there's a young couple with a little boy on the sidewalk. Those people have had sex. The old woman on a bench with her dog, she's had sex. The group of adults playing frisbee golf, they've all had sex. I'm one of them now, I'm all grown up because of him.

I wonder what he's doing right now.

Has he been thinking about me, does he feel guilty? Probably not. Nothing has changed for him, he still has a pregnant wife, still flirts with the school counselor, still goes back to that room feeling everything but sorry. He still has purpose, motivation. It doesn't take a long time to convince himself to go to bed, or to get out of it.

I wonder how he kisses his wife without the whole awful truth spilling out and him begging for her forgiveness. Or maybe they're in the middle of a fight. Maybe she's the reason why he got drunk in the first place and I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. That would make sense, actually. It would be self righteous to think he was actually attracted to me.

But this realization makes me feel even worse. It's awful to be raped by someone who thinks you're hot, but it's even more demeaning to know that your rapist just did it because you were the only one there. 

And on top of that, I'm too much of a coward to turn the sick bastard in.

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