Corpus Civilization

Austria

WARNING: This story contains sexual assault. If the topic disturbs you, please do not read it. Your mental health is more important than any story. Again, I don't want anyone hurt because of this, so please, if you know that this is a topic that disturbs you, do not read it.

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Usually, when she walked out the doors, no one noticed her face. She was an invisible face in the crowd, yet today, they parted for her, mainly because her aura was so strong, so stubborn, so demanding of attention. It was the first time, all attention was on her. If they were aware of the tears on her face, they made no comment. Not to her face, at least. But there were whispers. Of course, there were whispers. Little snide comments, yes, looks of disgust, yes—

"Are you okay?"

Ah. That's a first. An 'are you okay' is something she hasn't heard from anyone. And hearing it now, after everything they weren't there for...well. It's quite useless now, isn't it?

"Get out of my face." the words are laced with the most venom she can find, and finally, raising her head, she notices, at last, all the people who were there and yet did nothing.

The person who'd touched her—a boy, she sees—recoils, the crowd covering him up. Perhaps...just perhaps, his eyes had begun watering.

If she had cared, she might have noticed that the boy was her junior, one she was usually nice to. Truth be told, no one had ever seen her being anything other than nice.

So what had happened for her to react this way?

Moving past the crowd, which now parts even wider for her, her eyes on the black Dodge Caravan nestled in the corner of the parking lot. Her mother watches her closely from the tinted windows. Cornelia makes no effort to hide her tear tracks, biting her tongue to keep from crying even more as she clasps the door handle, a tug to pull the door open.

"Cornelia? What happened?" her mother's soft voice penetrates her head through the shell of her hood, caressing her hair before slipping into her ears. It's always been like that. Her mother's voice, not the crying. Her voice has always been a gentle caress, soft, like a bed of petals.

"Can we go home? Please?" the words slip out and it takes so, so, much effort to just keep in the waver of her voice, the tears threatening to come out.

Thankfully, her mother doesn't press.

The car hums beneath her, slowly progressing to a light growl before it finally begins to move, twisting and turning in what direction, she doesn't know. She's too concentrated on trying to keep in her tears. The house comes in view of tear-filled eyes, the usual yellow colour dulled by the snow layered thickly on the surface.

Without a word, Cornelia slips out of the car, her backpack weighing her down as she goes down the path, unlocking the door with the passcode. Casting a look back to see that her mother is following behind, Cornelia steps inside the quiet house. Not a single thing is here to greet her.

Her mind shuts down.

Running on pure habit, her shoes and jacket disappear, her bag disappears and she's on the couch.

And then she can't hold it back anymore.

Big, fat, tears roll down her cheeks, but no sounds make their way out. Instead, she holds her breath, holding in every sound, arms wrapped around herself.

Everywhere he touched; her lips, her hands, her arms, places he wasn't supposed to touch, all of them. Her entire body feels so violated, so used. She doesn't feel like herself anymore. Her fingers scratch at her exposed skin like no tomorrow. Her skin itches, it burns, his phantom hands on her again, tugging and pulling.

She screams.

She screams and screams, opening her mouth at last and closing her eyes and letting out every sound possible, letting the world know that she isn't okay and why are his hands on her again?! Screams of get off, get off me and get your filthy hands away rain out of her mouth and she pushes at the hands holding her.

"Lia! Cornelia! It's your mother!"

The haze disappears from her mind and her eyes pop open to see her mother's big brown eyes peering into hers. She melts in the older woman's arms, letting her mother envelop her in her velvet arms.

It seems that Cornelia can breathe at last.

"Lia. My darling Cornelia." her mother's soothing words hit her ears, the voice a gentle caress as it curls around her like a protective blanket.

Her mothers' arms stay around her for the longest time, rubbing her arms as gently as possible, uncaring of the fact that a snot and tear-filled solution is rubbing into her clothes.

When her breathing is calm, each breath drawn in and out, tranquil at last, her mother moves away. Not far, but still away. Cornelia shivers at the sudden cold, eyes trained anywhere but her mother's eyes.

"What happened, my dear Lia?" her mother asks, that gentle caress back again, prodding a pushing every word out of her.

The two of them sit there as Cornelia tells her mother how the boy pushed her into a private space—still inside the school—and did as he wanted to her while she screamed her heart out, only for not a single person to appear to aid her. Somewhere in the middle of her story, tears slip down her cheeks and her voice wavers, but she doesn't sob. She tells her mother how he had slapped her when he'd gotten tired of her screams, then shows her the red print on her cheek, close to being a full-blown bruise. She tells the older woman about how he'd touched everywhere he wasn't supposed and how she can still feel his hands on her and how, now, she doesn't feel worthy of anything, how she feels impure, so disgusting, and how she can still his maniac face in her head and his expression of ecstasy when he got what he wanted. How she now feels tainted and undeserving of anything, why should she, when there seems to be no longer a point in her life.

Her mother listens, pulling her close, even while she's still talking and doesn't interrupt until Cornelia finally takes a deep breath to signalize the end of her...experience.

"Cornelia, my dear, look at me."

It's the sound, the tone of her mother's voice that begs her to look up, and when she does, she sees that her mother herself is crying, full-blown tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Oh, Mama, don't cry. It isn't your fault, Mama. I promise."

But her mother shakes her head and leans close to wrap her daughter in a big hug, whispering all sorts of things in her ears.

"Lia, my darling Lia, you are the most deserving person in this world. You deserve every possible happy thing. You are worthy and you are not impure. His hands touched you, yes, but they mean nothing because you have better people around you now. He means nothing and just like every bad thing, this will pass too. HIm, though? We will call the school and the police and tell them because how dare he do such a thing to my beautiful daughter!"

That gets a laugh from Cornelia. Her mother smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes quite yet.

The doorbell rings, announcing the arrival of her brother.

When he turns around the corner, he sees the two of them sitting there and clear tear tracks on their faces.

"Why are you guys crying?"

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by Jem

This story is honestly just an idea out there to spread awareness that sexual assault and rape is something that happens and more often than not, is ignored. Not many people recognize how such an event can break apart someone's life, and I don't mean only the victim. It can be the parents too, or anyone who plays the role of close and intimate guardianship over the person. It's not meant to be ignored and not have anything done about, but to take action against it. Don't make fun of those people who were or are victims of the act.