Tuesday December 18th, 2012 - 6:30 A.M. - TC3 Dryden, N.Y.
*Nine Months Earlier*
Today was the end of the semester for every single student at TC3. Finals were at their last stages and the air seemed lighter than usual. The sub-zero, snow covered grounds felt warming, like a welcome home party for the most of them. None of them had a care in the world; they were just happy the horrors of the previous weeks were long gone. Up in the girl's dorm room, looming over the main building below, Samantha Hive lay in her bed; sweat had matted itself, gluing its chemistry to her shirt. "N-No. Please don't touch me," she muttered. Every one of her muscles jolted, forcing her arms and legs to flail about poorly attempting to wake her.
Minutes passed when Toby Keith blared out of a phone on the dresser nearby. "JESUS!" Blood rushed to her brain from the speed of sitting up. Light headedness only made that nausea burning in her belly intensify. "I'm g-gonna be sick…" Angry pounding in her head took over from the cocaine withdrawals, as she got out of bed. Moments later Samantha had to steady her instability with the dresser. The entire room felt like it was spinning, even though she was firmly grounded in front of the mirror. She knew she was awake; she could see herself; even pinched herself, wincing from the slight pain. Am I going crazy? I know I'm awake; I know I am! Even though all of the facts proved this theory, it still felt as if the hell from the night before pressed onward.
Bags formed under her deep, tear stricken hazel eyes. She instantly became transfixed on her reflection, taking in her complexion and all that her body had to offer. It wasn't uncommon; Samantha checked out her body every single day. She sported perfectly tan skin; it contrasted immaculately against the long blanket of night that was her hair. And no matter how the weather was, her hair would flow smoothly, like creek in the middle of Summer. She always had a rather long face and cheekbones that never really belonged there throughout her youth. Despite it bothering her back then, over time, it filled itself out evenly. Her nose is slightly wide with a piercing that hugged her left nostril as if the flesh was its lifeline. When she smiled, besides her pearly teeth, the way her lip ring snuggly held onto the thick mushy home set off most anyone.
The way Samantha turned was on par with Shakira when she would dance on stage. Her hips swayed this way and that; her heart fluttered and the nausea subsided. For a short while, she was actually happy again. Then an image of a blonde girl, with crystal blue eyes fizzled into view, burning into the walls of her head. "They were all always so jealous of me. I never really knew why, but I guess it has to do with my body." She wanted to smile. She really wanted to keep feeling like she did now, but inevitably her depression took back over. Only with the leftover bit of strength in her body, did Samantha hold herself up.
A drop slipped from her eye; plop. It hit the smooth surface, jarring her attention back to the reflective glass. The thoughts of the popular girls from her past swam through her, crashing hard with pain into her chest like the cruelty of the ocean in the midst of a storm. In high school most of those girls, including her lifelong nemesis, Lizzie Grace, were jealous of how her body transformed during puberty. She went from being scrawny and five feet, five inches tall with nearly no figure, to what she was today. Now, with her being five feet, ten inches tall, many guys have tried to conquer the tall thick tree-like appendages that were her legs and most failed. The pattern would traditionally come to an end right when they got to the perfectly rounded mountainous hills hugging the backs of them.
I need more coke. Please… Please God, say I have more… Sure enough, laid out before her, were two strips of white powder just waiting to be snorted. "Oh thank Jesus!" The first sniff brought an intense burning to the inner lining of her right nostril. "Oooohhhh ggggodddd…yeeeaaahh…" Bliss followed suit; the pain inside her finally flew away.
Just…one more hit. She thought, going for that last strip of Heaven. But when the air began flowing through her other nostril, the door burst open. "Holy FUCK!" Had she not been already slightly doped up and calm, Corey Smith's abrupt entrance could've made her heart stop. This can't be right, I… No! No, I w-woke up just a few minutes ago! Horror, that's what this hell was. Petrifying, horrific fear kept her feet rooted to the spot for the third time since the incident. And just like before, music had been blaring from outside the room.
Her eyes locked onto the monster who just crossed the threshold. If he's not carrying a beer in his left hand, then we're good. This could all just be some sort of day dream; I know I woke up. Panic coursed like thousands of angry stallions as she looked over that pig of a man. She didn't want to look; she didn't want to observe him, even though her Criminal Studies skills started to kick in. He was a massive human being, towering over her by a foot. His short blonde hair with those sapphire-like eyes, wide jaw and beautifully crafted nose, to many girls, was a winning combination. You tie that up with a chiseled abdomen, burly arms and skin that had looked like the sun itself kissed it, and you have Corey.
He was drunk. Samantha immediately spotted the bottle in his hand, though still frosty, the liquid was nearly gone. When he grinned, she felt a shiver go up her spine. "What do you want?" She knew that the tone she used wasn't threatening, nor was it even the least bit scary. In fact, it shook alongside the constant shudders that refused to go away. He moved in closer, blocking the exit; her only chance of breaking this reminder. She felt his attention locking onto her chest as it rapidly expanded and retracted. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her breasts were already doused in the cold wetness. Her heart wouldn't stop throbbing near her throat.
"Did you know you look soooo pretty when you're wet? I mean, just look at that…RACK!" Another swig of beer slithered down his throat. She couldn't shake the gut feeling of despair while she watched his throat gulp. Samantha couldn't stop herself from screaming after Corey's bottle smashed into the top of her mirror. His hand lunged for her right breast, while he licked his lips. She was shaking now, but reflexively, her arm swung towards him; he caught it. She jumped; her eyes screamed in terror from the angry look he gave her. "How dare you try to defend yourself. You're a woman damn it! You're meant for us to have fun with… Yeah…"
When a disturbing chuckle escaped him, that similar shiver came back for a visit. Please make this end! Please…? Please…? No amount of prayer would halt the encounter. "Corey, you're drunk! You don't know what you're thinking right now, I can tell. Let…" a lump in her throat made her choke. "Please, let me go. I promise that I won't tell anyone if you just leave."
This time she knew there was confidence in her voice. Corey even looked like he was about to break down. A sense of calm swept through and her heart finally started to slow back down. His head dropped, hanging with guilt and embarrassment. "I'm…s-sorry," he whispered. She felt so bad for him. The inflection of his voice sounded legitimate, laced with honesty. She wanted to just forget this night ever happened, but knew better, for it already did. A moment passed by when her mind eased. She saw Corey lifting his head back up and when the tears welled in his eyes, she thought perhaps the nightmare was over.
Thoughts of the previous night swooped on by like a blur. Was it just a nightmare? Maybe it was the stress that accumulated from the finals. Perhaps Corey never… Her thoughts were cut off instantly as she felt her throat being crushed. The jock before her had his giant hands wrapped around her neck; she couldn't breath. Her lungs were on fire as they struggled to get air. The next thing she knew, she was flying past her dresser onto her bed. "Oh god… It's not a nightmare; Corey don't!" "You wanted me! I saw you watching me at that party; ohhhh did you watch me…"
The sound of her shirt ripping and her bra being torn off frenzied her. Wake up! This already happened Sammie. You don't have to keep reliving it. For fuck sakes… Please wake up! She felt those huge, cold fingers burying themselves into her pants, yanking and tearing, until they were down by her ankles. Her underwear was next to go, immediately shearing in half. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get her hands to stop shaking.
"D-Don't… You don't have to do this," sobbing took place as she was unable to muster another single plea. Just wake up Sammie. Focus on your alarm! Remember how you thought it woke you up before? Maybe this is just part of some complex night terror. Please, listen for the alarm. It was all she could do to try and keep her mind off the event taking place at that exact moment. Corey already had himself inside of her. Her crying only dimmed; she figured it was best to just let the man continue until he was done. The feeling of her lips trembling and the pervert's genitals pumping away at her felt all too real.
"Please… That's enough… Stop it. S-Stop!" Corey kept lunging into her; the fiery anger boiled into her heart. "STOOOPPPPPP! STOP! STOP, PLEASE! SOMEONE HELP MMMEEEE! HELP MEEHEEE!!!" "I'm finishing… UGH!" No one came to help her. No matter how hard she yelled, even though her throat was aching, not a single person came to her rescue. There was no knight in shining armor; no, strong man to guide her from the darkness she was plunged into. Just as she was about to give up hope for anyone, a familiar voice broke through that dream.
"Sammie, wake up. You're screamin' at the top of your lungs hun'! Wake up!" Suddenly, the ground shook. Cracks appeared in the walls, allowing a bright light to penetrate the gloom around her. Corey had vanished into thin air, allowing her to curl up in her bed, just like the night this actually happened. "Why'd he do this? Why? Why? Why?" she was hysterical. The cracks widened, causing the walls to crumble. Look! You're safe now, girl. You're safe honey; you truly are.
It took every ounce of energy she could muster to even lift her head the tiniest bit. That light burned her eyes; she felt blinded, immediately hiding her face once more. "Wake up hun'. You're having a bad dream, just open your eyes darlin'," the female's voice was comforting her; she wanted more of it, just a little more. When her eyes opened again, she was met with the most beautiful of sights. A long blonde haired, deep blue eyed, freckled face woman was gazing into her soul. "Oh my god Layla! Oh god!" Samantha couldn't stop herself from jumping into her best friend's embrace.
"Shhh. It's over hun'. It's all over." "I don't know h-how long I w-was gon-gonna be stuck in therrrrree." Layla's fingers running through Samantha's hair was warm like a mother's touch. "Honey, are you okay? I've never had that hard o' time gettin' you outta' bed like that." She helped her friend to her feet, and immediately began rummaging through the dresser when she saw the bruises. "Good lord in Heaven! Who gave you those marks?!" Agony took hold of Samantha's brain; riding it out as if it were a bull in a rodeo. No matter how hard tried to buck it off, its grasp was glued.
She took a moment to give her friend a glance over. Her heart skipped slightly, watching the girl's golden hair bounce around. When their eyes met, the pesky emotion had finally been kicked. Layla's nose is long, with somewhat arched nostrils. She has average sized ears and a slightly chubby face. Her mouth is small and thin lipped. Both of her ears had been pierced, though only the lobes were. She never branched out to get the kinds of modifications her friend received. "Are you gonna be okay for the final?" It was her Southern accent that made the rest of Samantha's internal pain wash away.
"I… don't know. I don't quite think the final's such a good idea." She kept grasping her head, frantically trying to stop anything negative coming back into her. "Tell me those bruises are self made? I'd rather ya' be hurtin' yourself, though not by much, than to hear someone else laid their hands on ya'." Samantha caught the bright green jogging pants that her friend lobbed at her, followed by the matching tank top and bra. As she slid her legs snuggly into the pants and began clasping on the underwear, she watched the awe Layla still had frozen onto her face.
"I'd… Please don't make me repeat it. I'm begging you." Layla shrugged in return, but Samantha knew her friend wasn't satisfied with her answer. She could tell just by the way those eyes kept peering over her damaged parts. Pain struck her as she pulled her bra into a more comfortable position. Both breasts were pulsating angrily as the tank top went over them. "I saw that wincing you were doin' just now." Annoyance quickly took over. Nothing felt easier in the world than to allow her eyebrows to furrow. "Okay; alright, I get it. I'll stop askin'," Layla showed herself into the bathroom.
I'm so sorry. So sorry. She sniffed, whilst slipping her socks and running shoes on. Sub consciously, she knew what was she was doing. While her friend made herself up in the other room, Samantha was already planning her escape. That's what I need. I need to get the fuck out of here. As she finished tying her shoes, she swallowed hard. Her throat was still in horrible pain; she was surprised that talking was even going to be an option. As her head became eye level with the dresser, there they were. The two lines of coke were cut evenly for her morning routine.
Without even a second of thought, she was leaning over the drug and sucking it deep into her nose. There's the buzz. Yeahhh… Make me forget! Make it all go away! The second strip was just finished as Layla reentered the bedroom. Shit! Samantha kept wiping her nose. She knew her friend didn't approve of her addiction, but it was a hard habit to kick. The windows flew open and a sigh had escaped the country girl's lungs. Stinging took back over, causing Samantha to cringe away. "We got one last test to do hun', so let's get to it!" "I'm done Lay, I really am. I can't do this anymore." It was all she could mutter before feeling disgusting all over again.
Her privates were on fire, seeing as she was a virgin before last night. The thought of Corey's penis inside of her recreated the nauseating feeling from earlier. She grasped her belly as firm, yet calm as possible. "Oh darlin', let me…" "No! I won't just let you do anything! Do you have any clue what happened in this room? Do you have any single, FUCKING clue?!" she wanted to lunge at that girl in front of her. Layla was only making things worse by continuing her pep talk and that pity she threw in. "I know what you're doing. You want to make everything all better, right?" Before she knew it, Samantha had gotten within a few inches of her friend.
There was an odd, aggravating feeling she was getting by just seeing those innocent eyes before her. After all, Layla constantly boasted about waiting for sex until marriage; until a strong country man would sweep her off her feet. She would go on and on about riding into the southern sunset with him and it was making Samantha even more ill than before.
"Honey? You're scarin' me a bit, I ain't gonna lie." "I'm done. Sorry if that disappoints you Lay, but goodbye. Good luck on your final; good luck with your future and I hope to see you again soon!" With that Samantha began filling her duffle bag with all her clothes, laptop and any accessories and her phone. When she was absolutely satisfied, she made her exit. Just as her foot hit outside the door, Layla's voice stopped her like an invisible barrier. "I'm sorry hun'. Whatever is botherin' you, I hope you can tell me over time. G-Goodbye…"
Say something to her. Damn it! Turn around and give her the respect she deserves! DO IT! Her conscience made her want to turn around and as she did so, someone slammed hard into her arm. One foot tripped over the other and the next thing she knew, she was face to face with the dark green carpet. "The… fuck?" Lizzie was standing at the end of the hall, laughing at her. Burning humiliation settled in Samantha's cheeks. I swear to god, this is not the time to fuck with me Lizzie! Please lord, give me strength. She was on her feet again and continued her exit like before.
Even when the distance between her and her most hated enemy became smaller, she forced a look of self respect and poise on her face. "Where are you going Sammie poo? You gonna go find your drug dealer again? Did you snort all that cocaine that fast?!" Ignore her Sammie. She wants to provoke you; she has NO idea what her fucked up boyfriend just did. Just let her gloat and keep moving. She passed on by, ignoring the cackling laughter that followed behind. Samantha sprinted down the rest of the steps and burst out into the cool December morning.
Not a care in the world came to her; not the inhuman frigidness of the traditional New York Winter. Not that blinding sun as it reflected off the surface of the white tundra before her. Not even the twanging, heart wrenching that had been going on. She just ran. She jogged from that dorm room, past the college and the numerous kids who finished their finals and down the winding driveway. Nothing would stop her from getting off the campus grounds. There was too much light ahead and all that endless, impenetrable abyss that lay behind.