The Flyer & The Frat Star

The Aftermath

important author's note at the end!!

Josephine

I somehow managed to quash my panic attack once I was back in the comfort of my room, but that didn't stop the overwhelming tidal wave of sadness and shame that came after—and I was drowning. I plug my headphones in and put on that playlist, curling into a fetal position on my bed facing the wall, holding my knees as if trying to hold my soul together. I take deep breaths as the silent tears continue running down my face. I'm bound to be dehydrated with the amount I've been crying. I just can't wrap my mind around the fact that everyone knows about what happened to me. Well, maybe not the details but they got the general idea of it from Hero's words. Hero. My heart breaks thinking about him. There's no way he's going to want me now, I acted like a complete psychopath last night, and now I was going to be the gossip of campus for the foreseeable future. He's been calling me nonstop since I stormed out of his room, but I think he's finally gotten the hint that I don't want to talk as he's simply left me with a text reading, "I'm sorry. Call me."

I still just can't believe he yelled that during the fight, in the middle of a crowded frat house no less. That guy... he's not a rapist. What happened to me wasn't rape, was it? I never considered it such, since it was my fault for putting myself in such a vulnerable position. I just don't understand the emotions and thoughts running through my head enough as it is, but now that everyone's seen that video I can only imagine the drama coming my way. I understand rape culture and how awful victim blaming is. The thing is, if it were someone else in my position, I would never blame her... but it just feels different when you're the victim. I never thought it could happen to me. I carry the burden of what happened to me on my shoulders every goddamn day and it's getting exhausting. I try not to let it bother me, but when I'm uncomfortable in my body, when I can't even remember losing my virginity, when I can't be intimate with my boyfriend, it's impossible to forget. All I want to do is forget. I turn up "Praying" by Ke$ha as loud as it can go and allow myself to grieve for the girl I used to be. I feel the tears run down my face as I lose myself in the music when I feel a hand grab my shoulder, causing me to let out a terrified scream as my heart rate spikes to dangerous levels. I turn to see Khadijha standing by my bed, giving me that look I was dreading. The reason I didn't tell anyone what happened. Pity. Pity for the sad, weak, naive freshman Josephine who let herself get taken advantage of.

"Fuck, I didn't mean to scare you. I was yelling your name for like 2 minutes straight," she explains as I roll over and remove my headphones. "How are you doing, Josephine? Are you okay?" she asks in a tone of voice I've never heard from her before, cautious and compassionate. This is what I didn't want—for everyone to look at me differently, yet it's exactly what I'm seeing in Khadijha, my role model for cheer captain and the best roommate I've ever had, now looks at me as if I'm a wounded animal.

"What do you think?" I croak out with a sad laugh, my voice hoarse from crying all morning. "Of course I'm not okay," I cry, but I admit feels good to say it out loud. I'm not okay, and I haven't been okay since it happened. The realization hit me like a train as I allowed Khadijha to climb into my bed and pull me into her comforting embrace. I didn't like being this vulnerable in front of people, but I just simply didn't have the energy to keep my walls up any longer.

"Do you wanna talk about it, babygirl?" Khad asks from her position behind me, spooning me and stroking my hair calmingly.

"Not really," I sniffle, wiping my snot with the back of my hand, not caring how disgusting it is.

"Can you just answer one question?" she asks hesitantly, and I nod from my position in front of her. "Is it true?" I nod once again to answer her question as a fresh round of tears start yet again, my body racking with the force of my sobs. It's true. I was raped... but I let myself get raped, so it's still my fault, right?