Against My Will by luminatina

   People say time heals all wound, but it's been a year since that night with Renzier, and the memory of what happened is still as fresh and painful as if it were yesterday.
   Everyone always told me that Renzier and we were the perfect couple. I think they meant we looked good together. His dark hair and olive complexion contrasted with my ebonic hair and fair skin. He was a football star; I was a cheerleader. He was outgoing and liked being in charge; I was content to follow his lead. Renzier decided what parties we went to, who we saw there, and which fast food restaurant we'd stop at on the way home.
   I never gave much thought to the fact that Renzier always got his way. That is, until the night Renzier wanted something I wasn't prepared to give him. We were in his car on some deserted road when I realized things were out of control. We'd gone there before, but Renzier always quit when I put up the stop sign. That night he ran right through it. I fought him, but it wasn't enough. Renzier said he'd get what he wanted, and he did.
   I can still hear the squeal of car tires as Renzier pulled away from the curb in front if my house. He ran the stop sign at the end of the street in his hurry to get away. I was crying so hard I could barely see to get my key in the door.
After letting myself in as quietly as possible, I headed for my room. Even though it was May, I piled on clothes— long underwear, winter pajamas, my bathrobe— then I pulled the covers up over my head. Still, I couldn't stop shaking. That night I dreamed the whole thing was happening all over again.
   I woke up early the next morning and headed for the shower. I turned the water on so hot it burned, and then I scrubbed my skin over and over until it was fiery red. I didn't feel any cleaner. I remember wishing I could reach into my brain and wash away the memory of what happened. After my shower, I took a bath. Then another shower. None of it helped. I could still feel and smell him on me. I still felt dirty, violated.
   As I was drying myself, I stared at my body in the mirror. I kept thinking I'd look different somehow, that there'd be a physical sign of what had happened. I didn't even have a bruise.
   I was startled by a knock on the bathroom door followed by my mom's voice. "Honey, are you all right? What are you doing? You've been in there over an hour."
   I told my mom I had a headache and that the steam from the shower seemed to help. Lying to here just added to my feelings of guilt. She and my dad thought Renzier was wonderful , but they'd warned me against parking and spending too much time alone with him. How could I tell her that Renzier had raped me? She'd probably be mad and just yell at me for letting him take me out on that deserted road. I thought she'd say I was asking for trouble.
   I wrapped a towel around myself and headed for my bedroom. As I got dressed my mind whirled from thought to thought. What do I do now? Who can I talk to? Will anyone believe me?
   I realized the importance of my last question because of something my girl friends talking about the guys we were dating when that topic came up. I was astonished to hear my friends all say they were sleeping with their boyfriends. They acted as though it was the most natural thing in the world for a 16-year-old girl. Then someone— Debbie, I think— asked me if I was sleeping with Renzier. Well, with eight pairs of eyes on me, I did the dumbest thing I've ever done in my life. I lied. I said I was.
   While everyone around me nodded their approval, I longed to take my words back. "It's a lie!" I wanted to scream. "I only said that because I was afraid you'd laugh at me if I said I've been trying real hard to hold Renzier off. He's pressuring me to go all the way, but I don't want to do it."
   Now, it was too late. I knew after what I'd told them that none of my friends would believe me if I said Renzier had raped me last night.
   The tears came as I realized the trouble I'd gotten myself into. There was nowhere to turn, no one to talk to. What was I supposed to do? I didn't have any answers.
   I faked being sick on Monday so I wouldn't risk running into Renzier at school, but Mom saw through my act. She thought I'd forgotten to study for a test and made me go anyway. I saw Renzier in the hallway between classes. He just grinned, waved, and kept on going. I was angry and relieved at the same time. I wanted to confront him, to expose him in front of all our friends for the scum that he was, but at the same time I was relieved he just passed by.
   Days, then weeks passed, and I never heard from Renzier. I tried to put the memory of that night out of my mind. When my friends asked what happened between me and Renzier, I would feel the battle begin. Part of me wanted to sympathize with me. The other part of me knew they'd never accept the flip-flop in my story. I'd be called vindictive, and I'd be accused of trying to hurt Renzier's reputation. In the end, I just told them we split up. It was the simplest way out.
   As more time passed, I withdrew from my friends and family. I'd sit in my room with the lights out, replaying that night over and over in my mind, trying to figure out a way to make things end differently. I went over my words and actions trying to find something that indicated to Renzier that I wanted to do that thing with him. I couldn't find anything, but I still felt guilty.
   If only I'd fought harder, I told myself. If only I'd screamed. If only I hadn't gone with him in the first place. I knew I couldn't change what had happened, but I put myself through this torture day after day. I took long, hot showers as often as I could, but still there was no washing away the reality of what had happened. Even after a year the wound was as raw as ever.
   Yet I know now it's time for the healing to begin. I've heard there are counselors who can help you deal with something like this. And I should finally tell my parents the truth. They've been there for me all the time, even though I've pulled away from them. I'm ready to learn to trust people again, so I take the first healing step by trusting my story to you..