A New Day, A Better Way

Lisa awoke with what could only be described as a major fucking hangover.  She could barely remember the night before, and decided she would call one of her friends to discuss what happened.  All she knew is that she was sore all over, and immediately regretting already being introduced to the tastes and beauties of beer.  At fourteen, Lisa was not a pro at holding her alcohol.  She had only started, too.  In the spring.  What was it now, summer?  She hadn’t gone out every weekend, only most of them.

Head pounding, eyes half shut, Lisa removed herself from the confines of her bed and stumbled towards the bathroom to get rid of the huge urge to pee that she currently owned.  The house was dark, and she was guessing that her parents had already left for church.  It was Sunday, wasn’t it?  She was sure she had gotten in sometime before sun rise, because her parents would have definitely kicked her ass if they knew she was out that late.  They might not care much, but they definitely cared.

“God, that felt good.”  Lisa muttered to herself in a guttural, haven’t had a drink yet, tone of voice.  She looked in the mirror at herself.  Disheveled, pale, eyes droopy, make up smeared, blood... blood on her face?  What the hell?

Had she gotten into a fight the night before?  Was the blood hers?  She reached for the wash cloth next to the sink and slowly wiped at the darkened, dried blood stains on her cheek.  They wiped off, clean.  How had it gotten there?

She quickly stripped off her t-shirt and underwear to make sure there wasn’t any other blood spots on her.  No blood smears, but definite bruises forming on her chest, on her wrists, and on her legs.  Maybe she had her period?  No.  She would have noticed when she peed.

Maybe she wouldn’t drink anymore.  What had happened?  Did she get raped?  Try to kill someone?  Why wasn’t she in jail?

No more drinking.  And she would call a friend as soon as she could.  To find out what the hell happened to her.

“On the bright side, at least I was in my own bed when I woke up.”  She said quietly to herself, filling a glass of water.  No black eyes.  It didn’t look like she got hit on the head.  No pain down south.  Maybe it had just been a pub fight.

Lisa headed back to her own room.  She definitely needed to sleep off the rest of her hangover.  And then she would call her friends.  It was too early, anyway.  It couldn’t be after noon yet, and noon was the ‘ok’ time to call her other drinking buddies.

“Hey, beautiful.  Glad you’re awake.”  A strange voice echoed from her room as she stumbled in the door way, heading back towards her bed.

“Who the fuck are you?”  Lisa nearly screamed, thinking, “Shit!” in her mind.  Not even fifteen, and already having one night stands?  That was a new low.

“Eric.”

“What... why... how... ?”  Lisa could not seem to get the questions out of her mouth fast enough.  The man, for that’s what he was, and nothing less – he had to be at least twenty – laughed at her bewilderment.

“We had fun last night.  Come here, hunny.  I love your bed.”

“Get... get out.”  Lisa stammered in her confusion.

“But I thought you wanted to play some more this morning.  That’s what you said last night!”  The man named Eric smiled at her.  At least he had all his teeth.

“Am I... am I still a virgin?”  Lisa asked the man, maintaining her space from him.  He struggled out of the covers, bare chested and pot bellied.

“I’m a little foggy on the details, myself... ”  Eric commented to her, and stood up from her bed, full out naked.

“Well, unfog yourself.  That’s rape.”

“You’re sixteen, though.”  Eric said.

“I’m fourteen, asshole.  Don’t you check I.D.'s before you sleep with someone?”

Eric stood up out of her bed, certainly happy to be awake in the morning.  He didn’t seem to have a hang over, at all.  Her head was pounding, and she was swearing off drinking.  Eric pulled on a foreign pair of pants from the floor.

“How... how did we get here?”  Lisa asked him.

“I think we walked.” He admitted.  He edged closer and she backed up.

“Stay away.  Just... stay away.”  Lisa backed up, ready to slam the door in his face.

“Hey, its alright.  I’m not going to hurt you.”

“It was your blood!”  She said accusingly as Eric turned and bent over to find his shirt.  Huge scratches lined his back.  He turned around, a kind of question in his eyes.

“What?”

“There.  On your back.  And you have bruises, all over your chest.  Did you rape me?”  She asked him accusingly.

“No, don’t say that.”  Eric said.  And with that phrase, memories rushed into her head.

No, don’t say that.  He shouted to her as they walked down the street.  He held a knife to her back.  Point me to your house.  We’re going to sleep together.  No, please, don’t.  She had begged him.  The scratching, the punching.  His holding her down, her wrists, her chest. Her tiny, ineffectual fists beating his overwhelming chest.  The cloth, covering her face so she wouldn’t scream.  Passing out somewhere in the middle.

“You raped me.”  Lisa said, backing up, and Eric looked at her blankly.  “You fucking raped me.  And nearly killed me.  Get out of my house.  Before I call the police.”

Eric took a step towards her, arms outstretched.  She held her ground and crossed her arms.

“I’m not drunk, and I won’t be afraid to scream.  Get out.”

“You screamed last night, too, and no one heard you.”  Eric growled at her as he advanced.  Fear plummeted through her body and she screamed.

“Get out of my house!”  She yelled at him, willing him to disappear, leave, and never to have happened.  Willing his sperm not implant inside her.  Willing his scummy, scaly body never to take another breath.

Losing all trains of thought as she watched him fly through her window, shattering the old glass panes in pieces and hitting the tree outside with a dull thud.  Hitting each branch on the way down.  A dead, very dead thud, as he hit the ground.  No sound outside.  She looked down at herself, head pounding, hands shaking, half dressed.

Needless to say, she awoke with one hell of a hangover.  And now she was in deep, deep trouble.

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