When Did It Change

My face feels swollen when I wake up. I consider texting George but leave my phone on the bedside table. I thought about bringing up the party with him, but in the end didn’t. I don’t think he could be behind the pictures, but I’m not sure if I should trust him. Since apparently, I can’t choose decent company. I also don’t really know what I should say either. What is there to say really? My boyfriend left me to get raped by his friends. What could anybody else or I do with that? My eyes beg me to go back to bed instead of dealing with school today.

I finally rise out of bed and throw on clothes. The bag with my clothes from the party sits by the empty closet. I stare at them for a while as if they’ll give me advice on what to do. Before throwing on a sweatshirt, I grab the bag and throw it in the trash. I don’t want to wear any of that again. I didn’t pay for it so it’s not like I wasted my own money. I pack Oliver’s clothes into my bag. What the fuck am I going to do? What should I say? What is there to say? I ignored all of Charlie’s texts and calls yesterday. So, I don’t know if he’s pretending to be worried, or if he’s playing innocent. I leave the house quickly. I’m embarrassed about what happened with George’s parents yesterday. It’s not like they’re the only people to have seen my cry, but they’re the first in a long time. Well, before Friday night, I guess.

I take my sweet time walking to school. I want to get there right before the bell rings so there’s no time for me to run into anybody. Though, when I get there, my timing is a little off. By the time I walk in the front doors I’m about ten minutes too early. I go to my locker and throw in my duffle bag. I hear whispering while I slowly put my books into my locker. I’m whipped around to face Charlie. He starts pulling me away from my locker without a word. I yank my arm out of his hand. His body slowly turns around as I take a few steps back to my locker. His face is filled with shock. “What was that?” The bell dings above our heads.

“You thank Phil yet?” I slam my locker door. “You’re disgusting.”

“What are you talking about? We need to talk.” I don’t even know what to say to him, so I say after school and leave. As I sit down in class, I berate myself. Why did I say we could talk? All I had to do was tell him off and break up with him. Why is it so hard for me to just say what I want to say?

“Okay class. The school has finally decided it’s cold enough for us to hand out the winter uniforms. I’ll call up everyone by last name. We have your uniforms in the same size as the one’s you’re wearing right now. If you need a different size go to the office before or after school and exchange it.” My homeroom teacher starts calling off people one by one. At least I’ll have pants I can start wearing. With the wind it’s been getting a bit too cold for these skirts. It’s just going to keep getting colder too. You’ve got to keep yourself warm up here.

⇜ ⇝

I walk out, and he stands in front of his car. He leans on it with his arms crossed. His sunglasses are on, but I can’t read his face. I take my time walking over to him. I know I have to end it, but I’m scared. This is the end and there’s no question about that, but that’s what’s so scary. Endings always feel so big and suffocating. “You ready to actually talk to me?”

“Quickly.” He sighs and gets in his car as I reluctantly get in. He turns the key as soon as I shut my door, and I grip the handle again.

“Calm down spaz.” He rolls the windows a third of the way down, before turning the car off again.

“You wanted to talk lets fucking talk.” Suddenly pissed by his assumption that I should just trust him. Why would I assume I know anything he’s going to do?

“Great. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What?” My brain steps back as if I missed something.

“What do you mean what? You attacked my friends on Friday.” I scoff.

“Tell me you’re fucking joking right now.” I feel fire start burning up my stomach.

“Phil had to go to the hospital because you slashed his face. Bill had to go as well after you stabbed him. Are you psychotic?”

“Maybe, but you and your friends are rapists. I’m not going to feel bad for hurting people who were trying to rape me.” I feel my emotions shift from angry to spiteful.

“Oh please. You were drunk, and they tried to help you.” I yell out and interrupt him as soon as his mouth opens.

“Before you say one more stupid fucking thing. I remember everything just so you know.” His face shifts just slightly, but I never miss changes in his demeanor. “I remember you leaving me and throwing that flyer on the ground in front of me. Phil told me that you don’t take betrayal well.” I say with an invisible question mark at the end. “I also remember Phil holding me down and unbuttoning my pants. He’s lucky all I did was cut his ugly face. I was aiming for his eye. Now, do you want to talk truth, or are you going to continue talking bullshit hoping that I don’t know you left me there to get raped? Also, I know you guys spiked my drink at some point with something.” His face keeps its composure, but I see a change in his eyes. I see a little glimpse of fear in them.

“We didn’t do anything.” He stumbles out. “Whatever you took, must have reacted with the alcohol.”

“I didn’t take anything. I drank some alcohol, but you know damn well how high my tolerance is.” He looks confused.

“But I saw you go into the kitchen. That’s where they keep the drug table.”

“Yeah, they also kept the alcohol in there.” I pause with the realization of how stupid he is. “Did you think I wouldn’t think it was you guys because you thought I took something? Was that really your plan?” I can’t help but let out a small chuckle. “You’d roofie me hoping I wouldn’t know what caused it and you could get away with it? What did you expect to get out of this? Did you want to hurt me before breaking up with me?”

“I wasn’t breaking up with you. You’re my girlfriend, and I just want us to not hide stuff from each other. I care about you, and I just want us to be closer.”

“So, you just wanted to let your friends fuck me up and then you could pick up the pieces?” He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t do anything, just silently sits there. I look into his eyes, and he glances away. “Oh, my fucking god.” I say breathless. “Were you just trying to take me down a peg?” He opens his mouth. “Your plan was to make me traumatized so I would stop fighting against your bullshit?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth. I didn’t plan anything.”

“Then why did you carry me upstairs. Why did you have the flyer? Why did you leave me in a dark room with a bunch of guys while something was wrong with me? Why did you laugh when I asked you for help? Why the fuck did somebody see you leave with somebody else?” I scream in his face. My eyes start welling up, and it just acts as more fuel to the fire in my chest. I hadn’t planned on even bringing up the other girl, but with it all boiling up I couldn’t hold it in and if this is the end I might as well air it all out.

“Who told you that?” For the first time he looks guilty. “Look, I didn’t do anything. She needed a ride.” I scoff and look away. “Her ride left, and she didn’t have a way to get home. I was going to drop her off and come back. She didn’t live too far.” I notice something laying on the floor in the back seat while he spews lies to me. I lean down and grab it. I dangle the red thong from my finger. His face goes a little white and he stops talking with his mouth still open. I throw it in his face.

“Why’d she take off her panties then?” He opens and closes her mouth. “Let me answer for you. I know you and your friends set up that night. You set it up to let them rape me so you could make me humbler or get back at me for the flyers. I don’t fucking know what goes through your head. You drugged me and told Phil to gang rape me. Then, you took someone else home.” I take a second to wipe my face and steady my voice. “I’m sure you’re sitting there thinking, oh thank god she doesn’t know who. Well, I now know you fucked Lil.” He immediately looks down. “Yeah, I know you took my ex best friend home, after leaving me upstairs. Then your plan was to try and console me, so we’d be closer I’m guessing. You didn’t expect me to fight back, though. So, instead, you came at me with anger because you thought I wouldn’t remember. Or maybe you thought I wouldn’t figure it out.” He keeps his eyes anywhere but my face. “Look at me!” I yell. He slowly meets my eyes. There are tears in them and to my surprise those tears piss me off more. “I’m breaking up with you. Here and now.” My voice is calm, and I feel more collected. “Before I go, I want you to know a few things. Friday? That was my birthday. I thought you asked your friends to have a party because you found out it was my birthday. I thought how luck am I that I have a boyfriend who surprises me for my birthday. A date I keep secret, but he went out of his way to figure it out. Second, I have never even flirted with somebody else while I was with you. I take my commitments seriously. Third, Leo and I dated and that’s true. We broke up before you and I even became friends. The reason? We broke up because he abused me. He beat me and left me bleeding on the floor. That’s what you’ve been jealous over. You’ve been pissed because a year ago, I broke up with somebody who left me with broken ribs.” His eyes start tearing up with shock in them. I can see that wasn’t the answer he was expecting.

“I…I didn’t know. Lil had said that you two were…” I grab my bag and get out. I lean my head back in the car before shutting the door.

“I don’t care what Lil said. I told you it was over and that you could trust me. You trusted whatever some bitch who hates me said before you even considered what I told you. You talk about how much you care about me, but you’d believe anybody else before you even considered I was genuine. That’s how I know how little you really think of me.” I leave and start walking down the sidewalk.

“Mona!” He starts to spin me around but abruptly stops. I see Oliver’s fist before I see him. By the time I turn around Charlie is on the ground with Oliver above him.

“Touch her again, and I’ll give the evidence of what you did to the police. You think just because you have money you can get away with what you did? I have multiple sources of physical evidence against you, and I’ll fucking use it. Watch your yourself asshole.” He steps away from Charlie. A group of people have gathered around us by now. They loudly whisper while Charlie rolls around on the ground. I see blood seeping between his fingers. Oliver slides his arm around my shoulders and shoves people out of our way.

We walk away quickly, but he doesn’t say anything. Normally, I would think there was silence because the other person is angry, but not with Oliver. I can tell he’s just giving me space. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” He side eyes me with a smirk. “I just really wanted to punch his ugly fucking face. Sorry, that was selfish of me.” He doesn’t stop smiling. “You did break up with him before I punched him, right?”

“Yeah,” I let out a little chuckle. “I confronted him and let him know I understood what his plan was. I broke up with him and let him know that he’s an asshole.” He nods his head as if he’s satisfied. “So, evidence huh?”

“Oh, yeah.” He looks embarrassed. “My dad’s girlfriend can testify that you’d been drugged. I also knew a couple of people at the party and asked if they had any pictures from it. A few people had you in the back of their photos.”

“Wait, you had friends there?”

“I wouldn’t say friends, other than you, but people I grew up with.” Why would he go to all that trouble of asking for pictures for me then? We don’t talk the rest of the way to work. I’m glad for that, though. A lot just happened, and I feel drained.

⇜ ⇝

Oliver opens the door for me when we get to work. Gabe leaves the front tills as soon as we walk in. He works here alone for the morning shift. When we come in, he normally goes and does his shift change tasks. He told us he wants the money for working an extra half an hour. We go to the back and start putting our stuff away before going to sign into the tills. Gabe goes out the back door with two garbage bags in hand. “Hey, I wanted to run an idea by you.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Well,” He scratches his hair and looks shy, “I was wondering if you cared if I picked you up after school. To be honest I worry about you walking alone. You’ve gotten jumped multiple times. You now have two awful ex-boyfriends, and whatever else I don’t know about you. I don’t really want you getting to work bleeding anymore. I understand if you don’t want me to. I know you don’t need a chaperon. It’s for my own peace of mind, promise.” He puts one hand on his chest and raises the other.

“I mean I’m not going to say no to company, but only on days we work. I don’t want you wasting your time coming to my school just to walk me home. If we’re going in the same direction, I’ll allow it.”

“Well, to be fair, we live in similar areas. Do we not?”

“Actually, I’m living in the semi-nice party of town. It’s not completely out of the ghetto, but it’s nicer than our houses.”

“What are you doing there?”

“I’m living with an old friends’ parents.”

“Oh, why not your mom?”

“Well, she kicked me out when I got into high school because I was too old to still be living at home. I lived with Leo after that. Then I broke up with him, so I couldn’t keep living with him, obviously. So, I convinced her to let me move back in with her, but she only agreed to four months. I staid a little longer than that by sneaking in. Last month she found me an apartment with some younger friends of hers.”

“That was nice. Why didn’t you take it?”

“Because she also told them that I was a prostitute, so they thought that was how I planned to pay my rent.” His head whips over to look at me. His eyes say what the fuck, so his mouth doesn’t have to. “Yeah, so I turned them down and left. George’s parents, that’s my friend’s name, they let me stay there. They used to let me sleep there whenever life got fucked. They hate me, but they’re too nice to make me sleep on the street. So, they said I could stay there until I have a place to be.” Gabe walks back in his hands empty. He starts grabbing his stuff to leave.

“Well, that’s nice of them, but why do they hate you?”

“I sort of got their son arrested once and I think they hold it against me.”

“Hey, we all go to jail at some point.” Gabe mumbles to us as he clocks out.

“Right.” I agree with a nod.

“Well, I’m not going to ever get arrested.” Oliver glances between us.

“Don’t worry Oliver; you’ll grow up one day.” I tease. Gabe smiles and waves goodbye. “I like him.” I inform Oliver as we go up front. He grabs the stools from the back for us.

“He doesn’t say much, but he seems nice.” We log into the registers and start our shift of standing around. We get drinks and snacks after a bit and talk. Oliver talks about school and then we discuss the stupid things rich kids do. We talk about why we can’t relate with what they say because they grew up having whatever they wanted.

“I hate the birthday shit.”

“It’s so stupid! I haven’t had a birthday since I was six, and I have a parent who loves me.”

“My last one was when I was eight, and they just sent me over to Lil’s house to hang out with her and Leo.”

“Like, it’s so silly.”

“What was your last birthday “party” like?” I say using air quotes.

“Why?”

“Well, you know what my last one was like. My dad died, so tell me what yours was like.” He smiles awkwardly.

“It’s not that interesting. We had a small party with a piñata and cake and stuff. We had some friends of mine from the neighborhood over. We were hitting the piñata and there was a drive by.”

“What really?”

“Yeah, like I said my dad was part of a gang. He got out when I was really young, but when I was six, they tried to pull him back in. He’d refused them and they got pissed. They targeted our house, and it happened to be my birthday.” He smiles with a small shake of his head.

“That’s crazy. Was anybody hurt?” He shakes his head no after a pause.

“But the piñata was dead.”

“Damn.” I lean back. “You know I read this article that said growing poor is a trauma all on its own. So, not only do you get traumas for all the crazy shit that happens because you’re poor, but also just for being poor you get trauma.”

“I mean, I guess that makes sense.” He leans back and looks out the front windows.

“Nobody really comes to this gas station.”

“No, they do not.” After a pause he claps his hands. “Okay, go grab your homework. I’m bored so were going to start your tutoring.” I groan as I drag myself off my stool and trudge to the back. We work on homework for a few hours. A couple customers come in, but not many. Oliver periodically stocks the shelves while I try and figure out what he just taught me.

“Why do you try so hard at this shit?” I complain.

“My dad really wants me to go to college. I’ve gotta make him happy, don’t I?”

“I thought the saying was make yourself happy and then worry about everyone else.” I look at the notes he made me and realize what I’d been doing wrong. “Oh fuck, I get it.” I quickly start filling out the rest of the worksheet. Oliver keeps stocking quietly.

I go over and lock the front door. “Give me your English book and I’ll start reading while you mop.”

“Cool.” I dig out the book assigned for my class and chuck it over to him. He starts reading while I get the mop water ready. I think my favorite part of our tutoring sessions is him reading at the end of the night. He has such a soothing voice that it’s impossible not to listen to whatever he reads.

“How could I ever be so blind? The moon was never trying to help me get to my love. The moon was just simply there. The sun was never trying to take me down. That’s just how the sun feels. It tears you down before building you up again. We’re just pieces in the universe’s game. My love is a piece as am I. There is nowhere to go but on. The dessert threatens to destroy the traveler, but his feet know what to do. The heat wants to suffocate his thoughts, but that’s all he’s left. The bitter cold nights offer salvation, but his warm clothes protect him from more danger. They say it’s the elements that will kill you. What if they’re not trying to kill you but save you for nothing more than yourself. They just want to take away whatever brought you to the dessert in the first place. The loss of his love should’ve been enough to kill a man more than he. Here he is, standing, walking, and living on. He knows not what he lives for, but only for which directions he has to walk.”

“What is this book?” I ask as he packs up my backpack.

“It’s a mixture of classical writing and modern. It’s a modern writer trying to write in a more classical style. They use words that we use and phrases that we understand. They call people an ass instead of a donkey and so on.”

“Seems a bit pretentious.”

“It’s not pretentious, it’s creative.” I give him a look filled with as much disbelief as I can get in my face. “You didn’t have any complaints before.”

“I didn’t like the book before either. I like listening to you read it, but the book is stupid.” He rolls his eyes as he turns to lock the door behind us.

“Okay miss picky I’m leaving. I’ll see you tomorrow after school. If anybody fucks with you,”

“Stab them.” I interrupt.

“Uh, yeah do that. I know you have surprisingly good aim with a knife.” I chuckle.

“You should see the scar I gave my mom’s landlord.” I put up a gun with my thumb and pointer finger. He pauses for a second before shaking his head and leaving. As I walk to George’s house the night life, wake up. They came out a few hours before, but they only wake up closer to midnight. I get a few offers for drugs, sex, and jobs as I walk. It’s funny because if that happened when I was a kid, I would have been terrified, but now it makes me laugh. It’s funny what doesn’t scare you anymore after you’ve seen what the world has to offer.

When I walk into the house, it’s dark and quiet. I lock the front door behind me. I try to step as softly as I can, so I don’t make noise going up the stairs. As soon as I get upstairs, I go to the bathroom and get in the shower. The hot water is calming and makes my muscles relax. I hadn’t even realized how tense I was until I let go. I spot the bruises scattered across my legs and try to avoid looking. I don’t know if I don’t like seeing bruises or if it’s being reminded of how they got on my body, but it hurts to look.

I crawl into the warm blankets on the bed right after I finish getting dressed. My body craves warmth, and I’ll be damned if I deprive it. I see the bag of clothes I threw in the garbage is now untied. Someone must have come through to empty the garbage’s up here today. The shorts hang of the side of the garbage can. As I stare at them, I notice the red splatters across the fabric. It’s hard to see since they’re black, but there are spots darker and crusted on them. I squeeze my eyes shut, but as soon as I shut them, I see him. His hands over his face and the blood falling out. There was blood everywhere I swear it felt like I was swimming in it. I grab my shoulder and hug my face into my shoulder. I can feel how the blood made it a little easier to crawl away.

I throw my eyes open and roll away from the shorts. Stop. Stop thinking about it. You can’t feel it anymore, stop thinking you can feel it. Stop. My cheeks are wet as I tuck my face into the balled-up blanket. I hold my hands at the bottom of the blanket and push into my face. I let it all out and try to control it with the blanket instead. I thought I was done crying over this, but I guess I’m not. Charlie’s face slides into my head every time my eyes shut from crying. His face filled with shock. His face bleeding on the ground. And his face that night on the swings. His smile when he looked at me with the earrings on. Every time he took care of me when I got too fucked up at parties. How shy he was when he admitted that he knew when our anniversary was when I didn’t. His awkwardness when he finally asked me out on a date. Then his face when he threw that flyer at me. When he pretended they didn’t bother him. When I saw him, and he was nothing but a monster to me.

I grab my phone and pull up George’s name. It all feels so overwhelming. Even if he doesn’t consider me a friend anymore, we used to be ones. We cared about each other, and he knows all my secrets. I send him a text and vent out whatever my hands type. I tell him how Charlie left me and what his plan was. I tell him about the rest of our relationship, but I spend the most time typing how much it hurts. I ask him why I drive everybody I love to hate me. Why can’t I be with someone without them wanting to die? I send the text. I don’t expect him to answer back, but I don’t care. Typing it out helped me feel like I talked to somebody.

I keep replaying the same questions as I try to get myself to stop crying. When should I have known that he didn’t love me anymore? Why didn’t I see the signs? How did mom know so early on that I make people miserable? The unsettling feeling of guilt claws at my insides. I hurt everyone I care about by making them miserable. If I was calmer, fought less, was easier going, or easy to please. When does love change to hate? Then from hate to nothing. I’m always the victim, but maybe that’s just how I want to see it. Maybe when it changed to hate, it was because of me. Maybe the reason bad things happen to me is because I’m a bad person. Maybe the world is trying to tell me that what changed should’ve been me.