♕ Eve ♕
"Evelyn? What about you? Did your attacker say anything that's stayed with you?"
I glanced up, shook my head, and continued picking off my black nail polish. I'd rather be anywhere else than here.
I heard the group leader sigh. "Evelyn, you've been here nearly four weeks, and still haven't shared anything at all. Support groups only work if you participate." Her tone reminded me of the multiple times I was sent to counselor's office as a child ("How does it make you feel that your father left you?").
I flicked a stray piece of hair behind my ear, and glanced around at the other ten girls here, all looking at me with expectations. They all had a stupid sadness about them, something I sensed the first time I walked into the group session. It made me feel so pathetic, being associated with these girls. I was drugged, and I had no one who cared about me enough to check on me.
Immediately after I thought it, I regretted it. Everyone had their stories. And everyone went through something.
"He told me that no one would ever believe it wasn't consensual." I told the group. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it definitely wasn't what stuck with me. It wasn't the phrase that's been ricocheting around my head since that party. "He whispered it in my ear while he ripped my shirt off."
The leader nodded, her gray hair gleaming in the lighting. "And that's stuck with you? Why?"
I shrugged, and quickly thought of a valid reason for this cliche phrase to have stuck with me. "Because it's true, anyone who knows me would immediately decide that it was consensual. Even that I initiated it."
But that's not what stuck with me. What I haven't been able to forget was him whispering that he'd rape, and kill my sister if I ever told anyone.
The leader kept nodding; a slow, understanding nod that got my blood boiling. I don't want understanding! I want justice!
"And how does that make you feel?" She asked me, leaning forward in her seat, her pearl necklace swayed as she moved. The other girls stared at me, I felt their eyes pierce my skin-- a sensation similar to the burning I felt when Chad touched me.
"How does it make me feel?" I laughed. A cold, dark laugh that reminded me vaguely of my attacker. "It makes me feel like I live in a shit world where rich bitches like you pretend to help poor souls like me so you look like a better person! It makes me feel like I will never be rid my rapist," the girl next to me sucked in a breath at the r word, "Because nobody believes that's what he is! And it makes me feel like- like," I slumped back in my chair and gripped my hair with my fingers, my nails digging into my skin. I could feel my face heating up.
"Like what, Evelyn?" A girl next to me asked. She had wide, innocent eyes; eyes that reminded me of Jenny, eyes that should never be in a room like this. I felt my insides boil, and took a breath so I wouldn't blow up again.
"My name is Eve," I muttered.
The leader sat back in her chair. "Girls, does anyone else feel that way?" A few of them nodded. "Believe it or not, you all will move past this. Some sooner, some later, but you will." The leader said. "On a lighter note-- What are you all doing for Thanksgiving?" All of the girls immediately started talking about their plans, their voices lapped over each other like whining dogs.
YOU ARE READING
Finding Eve
Romance[Previously titled "What He Took From Me"] I can't forget about it. How am I supposed to get over something that plays on repeat in my head? ∞ Evelyn Moore, Eve, has always been bad news. But with a deadbeat Dad, an alcoholic mother, and saddled wi...
