Untied

Sneak peek of what I am currently working on.

I could feel his grip tightly around my wrists and the smell of sweat filled the room. My senses seemed to heighten, all four of them except my sight. The room was dark, that's all I could remember about my surroundings. All my thoughts were coming to me all and once, the sound of the mattress squeaking was so loud that my ear drums were bursting and I could feel a headache coming on. It's crazy how I don't remember much, yet the whole thing never stops haunting me.

It was two years ago that I was raped, at least that's what they say. I still haven't convinced myself that it was rape. I was there, I didn't stab him, punch him, defend myself in any aggressive way, so who's to say it was his entire fault. I had some fault as well, so why wasn't I convicted of recklessness or some fancy smancy legal term for not being more aware of your surroundings and using your self-defense?

The flashes only come to me at night and it's nothing a little music therapy can't fix. I place my headphones back into my ears, close my eyes and focus on the lyrics. Before I finish the first song, I am back into a deep sleep. My mind floating through the heavy guitar riffs of Mikey Rage, the guitarist of Bending Hope, my favorite band.

"Morgan! Get up!" I rip out my headphones and spring out of bed. As I look around at my messy room, I see my mom's pink painted toenails standing in the doorway.

"Seriously Mom?! I scared me, do you have to yell like that?"

"Well if you got up when your alarm went off, I wouldn't have to and clean this pig sty!"

I could hear the -beep, beep- of the alarm very clearly now. I hate mornings, but then again what teenager doesn't? I drag myself out of my bed, throw on the first outfit I see on the floor and hurriedly brush my hair into a messy ponytail. I have never been one to put much effort into my appearance despite my mother's constant nagging that I most 15 year old's care about how they look and that I was giving myself a bad image. I don't care though, ever since the incident the last thing I cared about was my image.

I have tried not letting it rule my life but it's hard when it is constantly in the back on my mind haunting me. I can't help but feel tainted and used. I don't like talking to people about it because they will just think I want is for them to feel bad for me and the last thing I want is for them to recommend that I get "help." I already tried the counseling thing and it got me nowhere but annoyed. I just put on such a strong face and the counselor believed I wasn't effected to terribly by the whole thing. I don't talk to people I have known my whole life about my problems, so why would I feel comfortable telling a complete stranger? But I never told anyone that, when anyone would ask how counseling was going I would always give them the, "It's fantastic, it really is helping a ton," spill. If I didn't want to be there then I definitely wasn't going to risk having to go for longer by telling everyone the truth. And those fantastic pretending skills, I graduated from therapy after only six long months.

I zipped up my hoody, put my headphones back into my ears and started the walk to school. I always opt to walk to school rather than have my mom drive me. I love my alone time and walking to school is about the only time I get it. My little brother is constantly at my side, I babysit him all day while my mom works her two jobs so my alone time is the walk to and from school. I can focus my full attention to my music without being interrupted or distracted for the full 33 minutes that it takes me to get back and forth.

I open the door to the giant red brick building that will house me for the next seven hours and suddenly feel the sense of dread that takes over my body every Monday thru Friday like clockwork. I love school but I hate the people who accompany me here. I weave through the sea of teenagers with my feet focused on the ground and find my way to my locker. As I finally reached my locker I see Lia standing there waiting for me. I have known Lia my whole life. We grew up together as neighbors and a constant in my life for the first 12 years of my life. Right before my twelfth birthday my parents divorced, we moved and my world fell apart. Not only was going to be going to middle school, but I was going to be going alone because we were now going to different middle schools. That was when everything went downhill. Now we were in high school and at the same school again and things were slowly being put back together, sort of.

"You're here early." I stated with a half wave and smile.

"Yep! My dad had a meeting so he dropped me off." Lia explained enthusiastically. She was always so happy but I that didn't make her any less serious.

"Well let's go to the cafeteria and eat some food."

"Okay, but put your stuff away first and by stuff I mean that horrid music."

Lia always has always hated any meaningful type of music, she mostly listens to classical or Enya type music. I began to get a sense of anxiety as we walked to the cafeteria, my heart began to beat fast and I couldn't help but sped up my walking. Everything seemed so loud, all the noises began to amplify and I couldn't take it anymore. My ears felt like they were about to burst. I just wanted to get to the cafeteria as soon as possible.

"Jeez, you must be starving, slow down a little eh?" Lia remarked, annoyed.