So, God, why’d you let it happen to me?

CW: assault, mentions of suicide

I sit here years later, motionless, thinking about that Thursday. 

March, midafternoon, halfway through the semester, and my phone rings. 

How’d your accounting test go?

It went all right; I did the best I could.

What are you up to the rest of the afternoon?

Headed to the Rec to workout.

Oh nice, I’ll go with you. We should catch up.

Okay, I’ll call you when I’m about to leave and we can walk over together.

I slip on my leggings and quarterzip jacket. No makeup on. The blonde streaks are pulled back into a high ponytail braid. I grab my water to head out.

I shoot a text over.

I’m leaving now, meet you there?

I walk down the concrete stairs of the dorm hall. All of the girls are either in class or finding a quiet moment to take a nap. I open the front door and my feet hit the brick path below. The air is chilled, but humid. I let my breath take in the fresh air. The winter is lingering and letting me have a few more days of freedom before I spend every minute sniffling from the new beginnings of spring. I smile to myself, the first time in a few days. I’m in eye sight of the gym when I’m snapped out of whatever lingering thought sits in the front of my head.

Hey, I’m almost ready. You should come back so we can walk over together.

I’m literally in sight of the Rec. Just meet me there.

No, no. I want to walk with you.

Okay, fine. I’m turning around.

I look down to my cheetah print Nikes, they’re tired of the miles I’ve put on them. Ready for a freshstart, a break. Oddly enough, I find solice in their need for a break. But I keep them grinding away, no time for rest yet. I start to jog back up the hill past Kaplan and down Fraternity Row, back to the dorms. I slow my jog as I walk up the hill towards Lion M. 

The door to the dorm starts to creak open. I huff up the walkway, but then I notice them. The slippers. Why does he have slippers on? I’m ready to go. I scan upwards and see the pajama pants, then the t-shirt.

Are we not going to the gym? I turned around because you said you were almost ready?

I am. I just need a minute. How’d your accounting test go?

What do you mean? It went fine. You asked me about it earlier on the phone. Dude, I want to leave what are you doing?

I know—

The gray sky starts to let go of its tears. They sprinkle down on me one by one. My jacket is a polka dot pattern, and slowly it’ll be a solid color of drenched if I stay out here much longer.

Why don’t you come in? I want to talk to you about something.

I peer over my shoulder and look back to him as my body pushes towards the doorway. 

Let’s sit. 

He motions towards the lobby couches. The ones that have seen generations grow up and out over nine months, year after year. There are two chairs set up in an L figure, one is yellow and one is blue. My left knee is a centimeter from his right knee as we take a seat.

How are you doing since the breakup? 

Dude, it’s been since the end of November. I’m fine.

I’m not fine. In fact, I’m horrible. His picture is still on my desk from Junior year homecoming. I can’t find the strength to put it away. He’s constantly in my head, our memories replay like old video cam footage on a VCR. He’s the reason I’m sitting here with his best friend from high school. Our only connection that remains. My last physical tie to the love of my life– his boarding school BFF– the one I was told to trust wholeheartedly.

Ellie, remember how I told you my aunt passed away recently?

Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. How’ve you been doing?

I see his eyes well up with tears. He wipes them away.

It’s been hard. I just—

Let me pray over you.

Oh? That’s really kind of you..

Here, take my hand. Alright. Dear God, I just ask that you blanket my friend in peace. Lord, this is a tough season and his aunt was a beautiful soul that walked this Earth and we know, Lord, that she is dancing in freedom from pain in Your arms. God, that does not take the pain away from Earth side though, and he is struggling.  God, we know you never promised this life would be easy, but I ask that you grant him the strength to know Your name and I pray he knows your peace through this struggle. I just ask that you help guide me in Your ways—showing him your light through our friendship. Lord, we are so grateful for you and to know you so closely. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Amen. He sighs and I see the tension in his shoulders fall. Thank you, Ellie. 

He stands up and offers me a hand. But, his stance is close enough where I can’t stand up without morphing into him. I slowly get up and he takes an inch step backwards.

You ready? I really want to go workou—

He grabs my face with both of his hands and starts kissing me. Wait what, what is happening? My body is in shock. I freeze. He kisses me harder. Stronger. This must be a mistake. He has the wrong impression. I— His hands start to wander down my back. I’m trapped in my still body while my mind runs a thousand miles an hour. Make it stop. My fully clothed body. He grabs me. Hard. I have nowhere to go. I’m pinned against the chair. If I step back, I will fall into the chair. My mind rattles. I start to see myself from above. Time moves in slow motion. I watch myself cornered by his body. His hands start to move to the front of my chest. He grabs me with intense passion. I’m frozen. Get off of me. What are you doing? Push him off of you goddamn it. Why aren’t you doing anything? ELLIE. WAKE UP. You always fight back, what in the world! Push him off of you. His fingers open against the front of my leggings. He lifts my underwear and ventures below. I snap back into it. I start to push back against him. He pulls me closer. My fight pleases him. He gives me CPR mouth-to-mouth resuscitation with his forceful kiss. I struggle for air as I see myself from above again. I turn my face, hoping he’ll stop. You’re a whore. You can’t even stop, he thinks you want this. You are so easy. I snap back into it and open my eyes. This isn’t a dream. His phone lights up with the home screen of him with my ex. Just two guys smiling as I scream inside with pain. I push him off of me and start to escape through the other side of the dorm lobby. Anyone could have walked in, yet no one did. Why? He jogs after me, his eyes hungry for more.

I pray to God you never do that to another girl. You disgusting piece of shit.

What do you mean? You liked it.

I push the silver horizontal door handle. I run into the rain. Pouring. I start levitating towards the Rec.

He didn’t mean it. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gone in. I let him into my pants. I didn’t say no. A workout will be good. It’ll be a good reset. Yeah, everything’s fine. No big deal. These things happen. I gave him the wrong impression. My clothes are too tight. Wait, what the actual fuck just happened? Was that what assault is? No. Can’t be.

I keep running. Faces blurring past me. Is it rain, or is it my tears? I reach the Rec stairs. 

Was that real? 

I smack myself in the face. Hoping I’ll wake up. This ugly dream of my life. But, I don’t. My cheetah print Nikes are still tired of me always running. The adhesive starts to go. Ironic.

Face ID unlocks my phone. I’m standing in the rain outside of the gym. I call her.

I…I…I think he got the wrong impression from me.

What happened?

He touched me? He touched me. He grabbed me? He grabbed me. I— I’m just gonna go workout. 

The phone goes dead.My feet turn back in the opposite direction. My body carries me back to my dorm. I rely on natural instinct because control is something I no longer possess. Suddenly I’m on the last step headed to my room and I call my mom.

Mom? I have to tell you something. Are you sitting?

Do you want to call the police? How can I help? 

Nothing. No one will believe me, it’s not worth it. 

Do you want me to come down?

No, it’s probably just a big misunderstanding. Just don’t tell Dad. Please, he can’t know.

My body shuts down as I gasp for air through my tears. My body rieks with shame. Scrapping myself up to just another whore who asked for it. Why God?

Numb. I let the next few weeks go, and my body goes with it. Losing control over myself, but letting myself control who gets to see the intimate parts of me on Friday and Saturday nights. I’m gone. My innocence was lost a long time ago, but somehow he managed to take it all over again. A violation I must have asked for, right? My mind becomes a void until I wake up in the hospital bed to face reality.

Elizabeth we are going to bring in a psychiatrist to speak with you, today. 

Okay.

My arms are hooked up to the IVs with saline which rid the demons of Lexapro out of my body. 

The nurses start to wheel a giant machine in with a screen. My parents sit next to each other on the couch as I lay lifelessly a few feet away on the bed. Their eyes are pain-stricken with grief. 

Hi, Elizabeth. It’s nice to meet you today, despite the circumstances. Mr. and Mrs. Butler, nice to meet you. Okay, so we are going to go through a series of questions so I can get a better understanding for our meeting today. It’s really important that you answer honestly, okay, Elizabeth?

Okay.

He runs through the list of questions. The ones I’ve been asked a hundred times over the past twenty-four hours.

Yes, I’ve used marijuana before. No, the therapy wasn’t helping. Yes, I’ve been sexually active. No, I’m not intending to hurt myself in this moment. 

Then it hits like a gut punch.

Elizabeth, have you ever been assaulted before?

I look over to the couch as I take a big swallow of nothing. My mom lowers her head, avoiding eye contact with me. My dad looks ahead at the doctor on the screen. I can see him waiting for my “no.” His head whips to me, I haven’t answered quickly enough.

Was it assault? Or, was it a misunderstanding? If I didn’t say “no” it must have been okay, right? I mean I wouldn’t want to get him in trouble or anything. My mind races. What do I say? Yes or no? 

Uh-hm. I clear my throat. Y-y-yes I have.

My dad’s face stays still but I see his eyes fall. Like a piece of a Jenga tower shaking the base. 

I’m very sorry to hear that, Elizabeth.

The doctor finishes his questions. I’m questioning my answer. I should’ve said no. It wasn’t an assault. Dad won’t classify it as assault. He’ll walk through every event and tell me all of the things I should have done to avoid the situation. And, he’ll be right. I should have never gone in. I should have pushed him off of me. I shouldn’t have given him the wrong impression. That wasn’t assault. Assault would be like, rape, or something. He didn’t rape me. So, it isn’t that bad. It’s my fault. I asked for it. I was sober. My clothes were a little bit too tight. I defintely asked for it. I was a walking invitiation. 

The call goes dead. The room is silent.

Somewhere in the silence my dad asks if I would be willing to tell the story. The story of the assault.

Will he believe me? Will he believe it was an assault? 

Fuck it. I have nothing more to lose.

I tell him.

Every. damn. detail.

I watch as his face changes. His eyes pierce my soul. I don’t know where this conversation will lead. I look to my mom as tears fall down her face. She remains silent, I can see she is blaming herself for not doing something more for me.

The story ends. The Jenga piece is teetering towards destruction, but then it goes, a collapse once and for all. I see him look at his hands. He picks at the callous on the knuckle of his middle finger that closes and then reopens every time he gets to thinking. Thinking and picking. Thinking and picking. Thinking and picking. I’m waiting for the lecture. The one where I replay every wrong move for a better outcome. An outcome where I’m not sitting in a hospital bed hooked up to machines because I finally lost all control of myself.

Ellie, you did— his voice cracks— you did— his voice turns to a whisper— nothing wrong. 

So, God, why’d you let it happen to me?