The Protection

Two

Bang. Bang. Bang! My eyes snapped open. The banging continued. "What?!" I groaned. My head was absolutely killing me. I pulled myself from my bed and opened the door, trying to steady myself as the room spun. Staring back at me, looking polished and beautiful as always, was my roommate, Emily Elizabeth Rawlings, her golden hair brushed into long waves covering her shoulders. Shoulders that were pulled back in a proud, practiced stance. Her outfit was expensive and impeccable as always. Her silky black romper and large black handbag were a stark contrast to her sky-high bright white heels, their crimson bottoms matching her blood red lips. She held out a small delicate porcelain teacup to me. Her signature morning detoxifying tea. The tea was a special blend she prepared for me most mornings to encourage good gut health and provide a positive start to my day. It tasted less than ideal, like tree bark and cinnamon with a hint of something I couldn't quite identify, but I choked it down daily to appease Beth. She was my best friend after all. I took the small cup and saucer and studied her back for a moment.

Girls across campus often mistook us for sisters, nervously citing our "similar smiles" or "identical bone structure," but I wasn't sold on the idea. I always thought Beth was much prettier than me, much more polished. She smiled, but also narrowed her sapphire blue eyes at my own sloppy appearance. My long auburn hair was heaped into a tangled bun on the top of my head, and my stained white Motley Cru t-shirt barely covered my pink thong. No one looking at us now could possibly mistake us for sisters. Goosebumps covered my long thin pale legs as the air conditioning kicked on.

"You're going to be late for Chapel," Beth stated simply, and I glared. My gray eyes fogged over slightly in my confused and hungover state. "You know, Perry? Chapel? The daily social hour on this godforsaken campus," she sneered slowly, her southern accent more pronounced when she was annoyed. Beth was a devout atheist and did very little to hide the fact across this widely religious campus. I tried to hide my own smirk reciting the same line she said most mornings.

"Oh you mean, 'The daily, campus wide event, they try to pass off as 'mass worship' and not the cult that it really is'." She nodded while she examined her nude perfectly manicured fingernails. If it weren't for volleyball I was convinced Beth would already be at the White House, sipping her tea and busting political balls for breakfast. "You had your pick of going anywhere, so I don't feel sorry for you. It was your choice to come to school here." I said matter of factly.

"Don't remind me." Beth groaned. Having been a top ten volleyball prospect in the state of Texas right out of high school, it was unusual that she chose to attend our small, christian university. She had always insisted her choice was based on her desire to live close to home. Close to her parents' mansion in Highland Park, less than a ten minute drive. Or so she claimed. After four years, I still had yet to see the monstrosity of a house she described, with its grand winding staircases and separate butler's kitchen, where she spent all major holidays. I rubbed my eyes trying to focus again on our conversation, Beth's annoyance was more thinly veiled than usual this morning.

"You go ahead. I'll meet you at the statue." I promised and Beth nodded, pacified, sauntering easily in the high heels down the hallway. As I watched her go, the room spun again, and I clutched at my head. This was hands down the worst hangover I had ever experienced, and I had experienced my fair share. But this was the first time, I was missing days at a time from my memory. The last thing I could remember was going out Saturday night and now it was Monday morning?! Had I been slipped something... I took a sip of the tea and the liquid tasted like cherry battery acid. I choked, attempting to swallow the small portion and placed the miniature, antique blue floral teacup on my chipped black IKEA bedside table. As much as I loved Beth, I couldn't stomach the tea today.

I uneasily grabbed a black sweater off the floor and a pair of my faded gray skinny jeans. Normally I would try and look "pretty" for Chapel, an event where I would sit in my assigned seat, like a good little girl, directly in front of the entire baseball team. Including Ben. Ben. I swallowed against the bitter aftertaste of the tea and begged my mind not to recall for the millionth time how he looked me in the eye last spring as he cried and whispered that he didn't love me anymore. Two years of love gone, replaced by two years of lies in a matter of moments.

My head surged again, worse this time, and I gagged, forgetting all about Ben Thomas and dropped the pant leg to the floor. I closed my eyes, begging for the spinning feeling to stop, but when it didn't my eyes uneasily searched over to the nightstand where the bright green wrist band from the bar still lay. The walk to Bash's down the street was short, and I could remember taking shot after shot with a few new acquaintances, not leaving until closing time. I had stumbled out into the dark starless night, alone, refusing the ride my new "friends" had offered, wanting to walk instead, to burn off some alcohol soaked calories since I lived close. I remembered seeing the ostentatious entrance sign to the university as I staggered up the hill, but everything after that escaped me. The more I pushed to remember, the foggier my memories became.

I glanced around my room again, my foggy eyes now landing on the thin bright white dress hanging in my closet. That was strange. I crossed the room slowly, challenging the spinning in my head to examine it further. I had worn this dress Saturday night, yet it was immaculate. The cheap, thin fabric was hung perfectly in my empty closet while all my other dark faded clothing littered the floor. I pulled the dress from the plastic hanger, hoping it would present me with a clue as to what happened on my walk home. Nothing.

Church bells began to ring, a melodic warning that Chapel was about to begin, and I sighed, throwing the dress onto my unmade bed where it lay in a crumpled pile. I walked to my bedroom door but paused for a moment, my hand on the door knob before turning back. Something about the dress still seemed off. I crossed the room in two large strides and picked up the fabric again, finally realizing what was wrong with it. There, on the side seam, was a small tear, maybe a half inch long. I felt my mind begin to reel, the memories flooding in one by one like an old movie, the scenes discolored and a little hazy around the edges:

The grass had been so cold, but his arms had been so warm. "I'm going to take her home. Where does this one live?" asked a beautiful gravelly voice.

"In the building over there," answered a different voice, a little higher in pitch. "But we can't take her there. Her roommate is home, and we can't risk it. Take her to the house." My savior turned and began to walk, careful not to let my head bounce too much. "She's going to need something for that cut," continued the higher voice, and I realized it was a woman. She sounded beautiful, but my eyes were too heavy to see. The man carrying me stopped abruptly, and the woman put a hand to my face. Her touch felt like it was burning my skin clean off, radiating down into my bones. She slowly moved her fingers trailing them from my forehead all the way to my chin, and the path was excruciating. I tried to pull away but the strong arms held me. Counteracting the insufferable burning with comfort somehow.

"Shh, it's okay," the gravelly voice reassured. I held still. The burning on my face dulled, but the ringing remained.

"He got her pretty good," the woman remarked, and I felt the man walk again.

"I'm glad we made it in time. She switched routes on the way home," he whispered to her over his shoulder, "and we almost missed it." The woman was back by his side in a moment and placed a hand on his arm.

"But we didn't. She's fine." I wasn't sure why the care in her voice made me feel jealous.

I dropped the dress. The spinning in my head reached epic levels and I cried out in pain, clutching desperately at my temples. There was no way I could go to Chapel or class or practice or anything else. There was no way I could even remain upright at this point. I laid back on my bed, holding the white dress to my chest and prayed for relief, or in the very least, more clarity to come. When neither did, I slowly faded back into a restless sleep, lulled by the pulsing in my head.