I Said No

Chapter six

I'm panicking. People already know. How do people already know we had sex? Is that what people would call this, having sex? What do I say back to him? What should I say back to him? Why would Devin say such a nasty thing to me? And just the day after it happened. What do I say?

I get up and walk away from my sister. She is way too young to accidentally see what's happening on my phone. She's only five, the baby of the family. I start pacing in my parents' dining room. What do I say? I want to scream and throw my phone and rush back to Oregon and punch Devin in the face. Or cut his tongue out so he can never tell anyone what he just told me.

'When did you become such a slut? I used to like you. But I guess your true colors have finally shown.'

Who the fuck does this guy think he is! I can feel my blood temperature starting to rise. I'm starting to sweat with pure hatred for him. What could I say to Devin to make it painstakingly clear that I wasn't just sleeping around by choice and that he could go die now and I wouldn't care?

'First of all, I've never been a slut, never will be. Second of all, before believing your friend, maybe you should ask me what happened. Ask me how many times I said no. Ask me if I CHOSE to sleep with him. Thirdly, you can fuck off,' I write back to him. God, I could wring Danny's neck. How dare he claim to have slept with me. Like a notch in his belt. Just another member to his list. How dare he brag about me when I didn't even want to have sex with him. How could he call that having sex?

'Oh, sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. Want to hang out sometime?' As if he could have said anything worse. How excruciatingly careless could he be? Was that him thinking I was now a slut and he could just as easily get into my pants?

'No,' I write back. All the things I could say, but no will suffice. No, I don't want to hang out with him. No, I don't want to ever see him again. No, I don't want to have sex with him!

Oh joy, he's still writing me. Now cussing me out and saying more unintelligible things I don't want to hear. I can only think in sarcasm now. Is he truly this stupid? Or immature? He didn't get what he wanted so he is going to try and belittle me.

I'm turning off my phone. I'm going to enjoy my time. I'm going to pretend none of this is happening. That none of this is happening. I want to cry. I want to scream until there is no more air left in my lungs. Would it be easier to die than to continue on? Dying cannot hurt as bad as I hurt right now.

"Come take more pictures with me," my baby sister says to me.

"Ok," I say. That's what I need to do. I need to hang out with my little sister and keep taking pictures with her. I need to be silly and fun with her right now. I'm not allowed to hurt. I need to keep pretending everything is ok.

I look around at my family and know that I will never tell any of them. I will never tell them about this burden I will carry for the rest of my life. How could I? How can I look my father in the eyes and tell him I was raped?

"Love you dad," I say as I wrap my arms around him for a hug.

"Love you too sis," he says as he kisses me on the forehead. "Glad you were able to come up, we missed you." I look up at my father, look him in his brown the eyes, and again am reassured I will never be able to tell him.

My father has always been a strict, traditional man. He was raised a country boy in Arizona and that has always stayed with him. A piece of the country ways and mindset. He has protected me, he has fought for me.

I grew up living with my mother, or tossed around to a family member or a family friend, whatever was convenient for her. And one day, my father decided enough was enough and he fought for me. He's not perfect, but no one is. With a potential drinking problem, and an easy to temper personality, we definitely have had our differences over the years, but he was at least there. He was present. He loved me.

"Of course dad, I was missing you guys. Sorry it was so last minute. I just decided to come," I reply. He walks over to stir the fire. He has the body of a working man, he is the epitome of a working man. He has worked hard his entire life, his callused hands could tell a million stories.

He came from a biracial relationship, his mother was black and his father is white, but his mother passed away while he was young. I can only imagine how hard it would be to be one of the few black kids in an entire small town in Arizona. Even his own siblings were all white.

I can never tell him. He would either think of me as dirty and someone he could never look at again or he would be heartbroken, devastated that something so cruel could happen to his own daughter.

I will never tell any of my family. It's too dark. It's too dirty. It's too imperfect. I can't be imperfect to my family. I want to be someone. I want to do something with my life. I can't do that with a rape stapled to my back.

I keep thinking about the police and if I should file anything against Danny. It's a thought that keeps running through my mind. And again, I don't think I can. I don't want that. I don't want to be someone who is labeled to have been raped. I just want it to disappear and go away and pretend like it never happened.

***Author's note***

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