Angie's Story

[Her Story] [day 24]

So today I was sitting in our usual group therapy session or as Veronica likes to call it “the circle of openness” Veronica, just like every thing else about this place seems so ridiculous. I mean nametags? We’re not kindergarteners! I couldn’t fathom any reason why someone would want to work here! I’d shoot myself before I could even think about it, but anyways. As I gazed around the room,bored out of my mind, I spotted an unfamiliar face. She was sitting with her knees to her chin in the plastic orange chair in the far end of the circle, and I couldn’t read her nametag. Well whoever she was, she was beautiful. With curly red hair that framed her snow white face and cherry red lips that appeared to cover in some sort of balm. She glanced up slightly reveling sky blue eyes smothered by thick black eye liner. They reminded me of a break in the storm clouds during summer. I made sure to stare long enough only to appear curious, so no one would catch onto my interest. No one here, but my therapist knows I’m bisexual and I’d like to keep it that way for now. I took one last glance at her and her blank face boggled me. I sat back in my chair and wondered what her story could be but I stopped myself after a few minutes. I knew that it was stupid to assume someone’s story because its making judgments which I hate making and usually I end up wrong anyway. That’s when the lovely ray of sunshine named Veronica entered the room with her usual coffee mug and box of tissues. All conversations stopped abruptly with her entrance as we all assumed our familiar positions, preparing for three hours of Ms. Sunshine’s peppy voice. No one ever talked in these sessions, I don’t know why she even bothered. Still she clapped her hands together, meaning it was time to start.

As I sat Indian style in my uncomfortable yellow plastic chair, she started rambling on about something. I didn't care, I really wasn’t paying attention I couldn’t keep my eyes off the new arrival. Her hair was so wildly beautiful and bold while mine was nauseatingly dull . Suddenly I was filled with envy and began to twirl my dishwater blonde hair self-consciously, staring off into space. I was snapped back into reality by the sound that peppy voice saying something about a new girl, named Angelica. She swiveled in her chair towards Angelica and asked if she would like to share her story with us. To our surprised she nodded, and switched places with Ms. Sunshine. Now in the center of the circle with all eyes on her she seemed nervous, but she closed her eyes and took and deep breath and began to speak. I remember her every word. This is her story. 

“I knew Drew since freshmen year, but we never really talked ever though we had one or more classes together. Which is why I was startled and shocked when he approached me at my locker a week before prom. He asked me to be his prom date, my comprehensive skills failed temporarily. Suddenly I busted out, nearly screaming yes. Little did I know that, that one word would lead me down a dark road. When everyone in the hall stared at me, I was a bit embarrassed but I didn’t really care. I just asked to prom by Drew Cross, the hottest guy in school! He stood about six foot four, with light brown hair always buzzed because of ROTC and the biggest brown eyes I’d ever seen. After I recovered from the initial shock, I rushed home and told my mother the whole story. She was so excited for me, when my father got home she told him. Later that night after dinner, we went out to buy a dress and everything that came with it. I remember the moment I caught a glimpse of my dress from the corner of my eye. It was a full length gray satin spaghetti strap dress with such beautiful, intricate beading starting at the bust line and wrapped around down the side of the dress all the way to the bottom. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I screamed for my parents and rushed to the fitting rooms with a dress in my size. It fit like a glove, I could have sworn I was glowing when I walked out to show my father. His face full of countenance and pride, and told me I looked divine. The rest was a blur of movement and planning. My mother was so ecstatic her little girl was going to prom after all, she meticulously cleaned the house from top to bottom. The house was barely recognizable. She and I spent the night before prom planning everything because I wouldn’t accept any last minute alternatives. The next day was spent with my mother and I driving from the tailors to pick up my dress, to the nail salon, to the hair salon, then to my mothers friend who is a professional make-up artist.So by the time the doorbell rang at 6:30, she was acting so sporadic, I had to have my father bring her downstairs to meet Drew, while I finished my last minute touch ups. I took one last look in the mirror and thought tonight my life will change forever! I was right it was going to change just not the way I expected it to. I grabbed my shiny black clutch off my bed, walked out of my room and began descending down the stairs. I smiled at Drew, who looked amazing in his suit and tie, but instead of a look of joy I expected to see on his face all I saw was a look of boredom and impatience. This made me a little annoyed and suspicious, but I shrugged it off thinking that I did take a while to get ready and my folks aren't the most entertaining people in the world. 

Once I got downstairs, he roughly placed the corsage on my wrist and posed for a few photos with this fake smile glued to his face. I said goodnight to my parents, then he almost dragged me out of my house and to his cherry red truck. The ass didn’t even open up the door for me, getting into that truck was hell with that dress to begin with, and him badgering me to hurry the hell up didn’t help much. I was agitated but I let it go, after all I was going to prom on the arm of Drew Cross! Girls eat you hearts out, I thought with a smile. 

I fell into a fantasy of the night to come. Everyone would be stunned at how radiant we looked together and would whisper about my dress and some would even come to me and tell me how beautiful I looked. After dinner, Drew and I would be announced Prom King and Queen, even though I wasn’t in the running. I spotted the girl whose dreams I crushed balling her eyes out and ruining her lovely dress, I couldn’t see her like that. So I respectfully denounced my title and took the tiara and sash off myself and gave it to her. Then Drew and I would walk off to have the first slow dance of the night. 

I was literally jerked out of this daydream, by Drew’s crappy breaks and his loud angry cursing. I sighed and looked out the window, and realized we were nowhere close to where the prom was being held! I started to panic, I looked at Drew and nearly screamed. “where the hell are we going?” He didn’t even glance at me, just keep driving, so I punched him in the right shoulder causing the car to swerve and screamed at the top of my lungs at him. “where the fuck are you taking me you bastard?” Once he regained control of the car and turned swiftly and punched me in the face. It was all I could do not to scream in agony, he busted my nose, and I could feel the hot blood pouring down my face and on to my dress. Then he finally responded by telling me not to worry about it babe, you’ll see when we get there. I was stunned, I fumbled with my clutch trying to reach my cell phone when it was snatched out of my trembling hands and thrown out the driver’s side window. He looked at me with blood shoot eyes, full of anger and malice and whispered to me. “no one’s coming to save you baby” I was terrified, I couldn’t think, I could barley breathe. I began to fumble with the door handle but it was locked! Shit! I thought to myself, then I began to roll down the window just enough for someone to hear me scream, when I felt something cold, hard against the back of my head and heard an slight click. I froze and my heart skipped a beat. He told me to roll up the window and sit like a good little bitch till we got there and he wouldn’t hurt me if I listened. So I did as I was told. Seeing that gun in his hand, I could no longer hold back the tears. I sat there for God knows how long crying, trembling, saying my last prayers, and thinking that I was going to be coerced into something bad just because I wanted to be the IT girl for once in my life. I felt the truck slow and come to a stop on the shoulder of some old abandoned back road. I knew what was coming next and my trembling become worse. He told me to get into the backseat like the good little slut I was. When I didn’t, he put the gun to my head again, I began to cry harder and did what I was told. I didn’t have any other choice. I’ll spare you the intimate details. Once he was done raping me, he knocked me unconsious and must have pushed me out of the truck about a mile from my house. 

When I finally came through my face was itchy with dry blood, my dress was ripped apart and stained in blood and other things, my clutch was gone, my heels were broken and all I could do was lie there on the cement and weep. I don’t know how long I lied there before the blue car pulled up. I remember the man talking to me, but I couldn't make out the words. But apparently he called the cops and paramedics and they called my parents after I managed to give them my house number in between crying jags and screams of pain. I told the cops and my parents the whole story somehow as I lay in a hospital bed staring at the ceiling of the ER room. The cops left when they got all the information they needed, they said they’d see what they could do. Then I had a rape kit done, once again I’ll spare you the details. They bandaged my nose and took swabs of the other stain on my dress for the cops. My parents were devastated and angry with me at first. Telling me things like it was my fault for going out with a boy I barely even knew and how much of a idiot I was not to get his plate number. Then they both started crying, hugging me, apologizing, and blaming themselves. That was the worst night of my life and probably my parent’s too. I was put into counseling. The cops found Drew and checked his car, took swabs of the same stains on the cushions of his back seat, and compared them to the one found on my dress. It was a match and charges were pressed, we did the whole court thing , and now the bastard is rotting away in jail for 15 years. 

But no matter how many times people told me it wasn’t my fault and I wasn’t worthless, I didn’t believe it, I thought I’d be better off dead. So one night, three weeks after the sentencing, while my father was working the late shift and my mother was sleeping in room down the hall. I took one of my mother craft knifes and walked into the bathroom downstairs. Well you can guess what I did, as she pulled up her sleeves to revel two cuts that were now stitched shut. My dad came home early that night and found me in the bathroom in a pool of blood and rushed me to the ER and from there I was sent here, here of all places, all because of my stupid desire for popularity.” 

I don’t know how many tears where shed by both of us throughout the story or how many tissues that were now crumpled up on the floor, as I stood and walked to the center of the circle and hugged her. We both wept. She wept for herself and I don’t know what else and I wept for her and myself. Once we released each other from our embraces we smiled through our tears at each other. She said “You can call me Angie” to which I responded “The name’s Mandi” 

I never told my story to the people in this group, it wasn’t half as bad as Angelica’s, but it was still horrible. The scars on my arms burned, threatening to rip themselves open again, at the thought of telling my story. Angelica gave me the strength to tell me story, despite the pain. 

So Angie and I switched places and I began to tell my story. We all cried till all the tears were shed, every tissue available was used, and our three hours were spent. All I know is I will never forget Angie, her story, or how she inspired me to muster my strength and tell my own story. “LIGHTS OUT LADIES!” the nurse or hall monitor/warden is screaming. Like I said ridiculous, nine o’ clock and its lights out. Crazy people in this place I swear, maybe that’s why they call in the loony bin. Hahaha.