Upside Down

• prologue •

I don't know how I ended up at this dimly lit restaurant, or why that boy over there I staring at me like I'm a piece of meat. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I realize he's from my school. He's two years older than me — a senior.

"Hi, just one?" the hostess asked with a wide smile.

"Yeah, just me." My eyes lock with his and shivers run down my spine. My stomach drops.

I should be at home. I should be watching Disney movies with my younger sister or making chocolate chip cookies and listening to holiday music.

Instead, I'm spending the day before Christmas Eve at this musty dump. I don't know why I'm here, but I can't go home, not yet. The party I went to earlier is still fresh in my head and the excitement hasn't worn off yet. Going home would be like stomping on the flames.

The woman leads me to a table just behind the boy's. His eyes are brooding, and not attractive. They're terrifying.

"Can I start you off with something to dri—"

"I have to use the restroom," I said abruptly, shoving my chair behind me and hobbling to the bathroom.

I feel sick after looking at that boy. Maybe I should go home, after all. The flames have been officially stomped anyway, I thought.

The door slams open. The lock clicks. I turn and see him. The boy who made my stomach turn. I squeal and back against the wall.

"What're you doing?" I whispered.

He smirked and reached for the hem
of my shirt, yanking it up.

"Stop. No," I mumbled.

He slowly worked my jeans down to my knees. By then I was trembling so hard I couldn't stand.

I tried to shout, but my voice was frozen, stuck in my throat. "No!" I screamed, but it came out as a whimper.

And that's where it all turns black, where I blocked it out. My memory returns with him zipping up his jeans,

and smiling,

and drawing a pocket knife from his back pocket.

My first thought was that he was going to kill me. I quivered beneath his cold fingertips as he tugged my waistband down and dug into my skin, tracing a short line into my hipbone.

"To remember me by, love," he whispered.

His lips brushed against mine. Then he pushed off the dirty tile floor and swaggered out the door.

I curled into the fetal position and sobbed. My hair was fuzzy and plastered to my temples with sweat and tears. I stumbled to my feet, clutching a paper towel to the cut.

It slowly turned a velvety red, soggy with blood and corners of the paper towel sagged between my fingers. My shirt was ripped and I shoved through the door, trying to find a breath somewhere deep inside me.

"Sweetie? Are you okay?" the hostess asked.

I threw my purse on my shoulder and fumbled for my phone. Help.

"I should go home. I'm sick."

Somehow I ended up home, in my living room, sputtering to my mom.

"Are you okay?" she asked, pressing her palm to my forehead.

"Mom," I whispered, collapsing into her arms.

"Seriously, Marley, what's wrong?"

"I'm... sick." My voice fell soft.

Because what would she say when she found out that her daughter wasn't a virgin? Dirty. Used. Bile rose in my throat. My cheeks reddened. She would be so ashamed of me.

"Oh, honey! Go lay down. I'll bring you something, okay?"

Don't be nice to me, I'm disgusting.

"Okay," I croaked.

Slowly, I stepped up to my room, flopping onto the soft white comforter and letting it billow around me. I dug my face into my pillow and sniffed. It still smelled like my coconut shampoo.

My dresser was still intact, with a framed picture of me at my kindergarten gradation complimenting the softball trophies next to it. My closet was still organized by color, my vanity exactly the same with my makeup lining the mirror like toy soldiers.

That felt wrong. It shouldn't be the same. Not the same as before, as a few hours ago when I was normal. When I was pure. I wanted everything to be knocked over and messy and horrible like my insides.

"Here. Text if you need anything else, okay?" my mom said, interrupting my destructive thoughts. She placed a small cup of 7-up and a few pills on my nightstand.

I only nodded.

When she left the room, I stood up and swiped everything off my dresser. All the trophies. That stupid picture with me smiling like a doofus and my hair tied in a bright red ribbon. I smashed it over my knee and threw the glass at my vanity, where my lamp fell and crashed into my makeup like dominoes. I kicked a dent into the wall and snapped my hangers while crumpling my clothes and tossing them on the floor.

"Marley! You okay?" Mom shrieked.

"I fell and knocked down stuff over!" I yelled.

The lies fell from my lips easily.

I collapsed onto my bed and sobbed until my throat was raw