A distinct pounding against a door registered somewhere in the back of my brain. "Crystal?" a voice called, slightly muffled from some place close to me.
"What…" my mouth was dry and I swallowed hard. Forcing my lids up, I realized that the hot breath that had now drifted to my neck and the hands that found their way under my shirt didn't belong to anyone that I wanted near me and I attempted to sit up, "What's happening?"
One of the guys, someone I distantly remembered talking to earlier during the party when the music was too loud for me to catch his name, gently pressed me back into the bed that I discovered I had been splayed out on. "Shhhh," he crooned to me, a deceptively gentle hold on my shoulders, "don't worry baby, we'll take care of you."
I sighed, the hands now creeping their way under my skirt seeming like a distant memory. My brain didn't want to work and neither did my body. In fact, nothing wanted to work right then. Somehow, I knew that what was happening wasn't right; this wasn't the way it was supposed to go, but for some reason, there seemed to be weight against every nerve in my body preventing me from reacting or even thinking too much into the events that were unfolding. Content to simply lay back and stare fixedly at the curious black mark on the ceiling while the two guys in the room with me did whatever it was they were doing, I found myself rather irritated to hear persistent knocking on the door again.
"Crystal Moore, I swear to God if you're in there you better speak up now." That voice grated against the oak. One of the guys sighed with agitation and it once again occurred to me that this was wrong.
"No," I said faintly, then louder as I attempted to sit up again. "No, I have to go." The guy with the rough, dry hands, clamped down on my knees just as the guy with hot breath chuckled.
"Baby, you don't have to go anywhere. You're our entertainment for the night."
My brow furrowed in confusion. Why couldn't I move? Why did I feel so heavy and weighted down. Blurry, unfocused eyes met lust filled ones and I blinked to try and recognize who I had somehow ended up with.
Where the hell was I? Shaking my head to clear it, I tried sitting up again, lashing out with a hand at the guy who was holding me down, "No," I enunciated. "I don't know you. I don't know either one of you."
Another chuckle as my blow was easily deflected. "Don't worry; you'll know us a whole lot better by the end of the night."
Those hands that had been gripping my knees began to slither higher, and I panicked. "What did you do to me?" I whispered, bringing a hand up to my head to stop it from spinning so much. The guy in front of me placed his hands on his hips and cocked his head to one side, tsking softly.
"Nothing at all. You just may have had a little bit too much to drink."
Too much to drink…? "You drugged me."
I was so surprised by that revelation that for a moment the hands that were steadily creeping up my legs were forgotten. The tip of a finger brushed the apex of my thighs and I gave a startled yap, jumping with surprise.
"Crys?" the pounding started again, only this time I recognized it as salvation. Unfortunately, the two guys that had somehow lured me into that room must have seen in my eyes that I realized it.
"Yes, it's me, help me!" A rough hand covered my mouth and forced me to lay flat once again. My head swam and I squeaked, unable to make any other sound. Suddenly, it hit me that this was no longer a game. These two guys were serious, and I was in real danger.
Hands tugged roughly at my skirt and I kicked my leg out, attempting to stop them. The boy had dark brown hair and a cruel glint in his eyes as he easily deflected my blows, somehow managing to wriggle the denim off of my hips.
Alarm bells went off in my head and even barely conscious, I managed to bite the hand that covered my mouth. That boy had a buzz cut and a rather interesting tattoo on his shoulder. He pulled back sharply and I opened my mouth to scream but only managed to get out another loud squeak before his hand slammed back over my mouth, preventing anymore sound. Shaking my head with distress, I tried to pry his hand away. His other hand ran over my breasts roughly and I whimpered, fear making me tremble.
"Go away," tattoo boy shouted gruffly, turning an angry gaze to the door. In the dim moonlight filtering into the room from a window somewhere over my right shoulder, I finally managed to recognize him as Richard, the school quarterback. He turned back to me even as the other boy forced his hand between my legs again, "She's busy right now."
I tried to squeeze my thighs together, but it was no use; the dark haired guy had found his target and much to my mortification, he began rubbing his thumb up and down my panties. I groaned with both fear and anxiety and began struggling to get away. Richard's hand left my breasts and focused instead on holding my hips and upper body down. Somehow, he managed to do all of that without removing his hand from my mouth and I was reminded almost bitterly of how strong he was.
While his friend's strokes roughened, Richard forced my cotton tank top up to my collarbone and began touching my breasts again. I cried out in dismay, my entire body trembling with fear. He had to take his hands off of my mouth to do it, and I found my voice again, buried behind a wall in my throat. "Please," I pleaded faintly, "please don't do this. Please don't rape me."
Richard looked at me, a smirk on his face and I knew all hope was lost. The mind numbing fear that had taken over my body made my heart race. "Please, please just let me go. I won't tell anyone, I swear I won't. Let me go I don't want this!" The hand between my legs cut me off before I could say anymore and I gasped with shock, jerking against the fingers that were now flush against my bare flesh.
The room spun, my heart dropped into my stomach and I realized that whatever drug they had given me was making it nearly impossible to keep my eyes open. My hand rose feebly to try and fend at least Richard off, who was now roughly groping me, but it felt as though a lead weight was attached to it and it fell, ineffective, back to my side.
It was hard to believe that this was happening to me. Rape? At a party? Did that ever really happen? In my naïve mind, I never really thought that it was anymore than a stern warning that parents told their kids to keep them from drinking or sleeping around. Now I realized, as stale breath assaulted my neck that it was much more than a myth. It was reality, and I was about to experience it.
The sound of splintering oak distantly registered to my fogged brain and I tried to open my eyes again, my head shaking slowly from side to side with the objection I could no longer say aloud.
"What the fuck?" I heard an angry voice and suddenly cool air washed over me when I was released. Still noncompliant, my lids refused to lift and the sounds of a fight…maybe a punch, and a grunt of male exertion hit my ears. Regardless of what was happening merely a few feet away, I knew that my first priority was to try and get away. Forcing my sluggish body to act wasn't easy, but I somehow managed to drag myself across the bed in the general direction of the door. My eyes finally opened and I looked up just as a hand grabbed me roughly, pulling me off the bed altogether. I cried out as my knees cracked painfully against the ground, trying to throw my hands up to break the fall.
"Get up!" Richard demanded, attempting to force me to my feet. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a person lying on the ground, moving gingerly and groaning with obvious pain. Shrouded in the shadows of the part of the room where the moonlight didn't reach, I couldn't make out his face to try and identify him. Another rough tug on my arm brought me back to the present and I struggled feebly to comply with Richard, but my legs couldn't support me and I crumpled to the carpeted floor as soon as I made it to an upright position.
"What did you do to her?" an angry voice shouted and instinctively I shied away from it, forgetting about the cruel grip biting into my wrist. "Let her go," it demanded, but in contradiction the grip tightened, making me whimper and claw with useless fingers at the hand holding on to me. I wanted to scream with the frustration of my own weakness. I don't know what did it; which drink sealed my fate, but I had certainly learned my lesson. This crippling inability to move was too much for me to handle.
Tears welled in my eyes and I felt desperation clogging my throat. "Please," I whimpered my voice cracking. "Just let me go. I won't say anything; just let me go please." I managed to tilt my head up so that I could look him in the eyes, my own pleading for release. He stared down at me uncertainly and the tears that had filled my eyes began coursing down my cheeks. With a sound of disgust, he dropped my wrist and walked briskly out of the room, leaving me crying in earnest, my body curling into itself on the floor.
Arms immediately came around me, gently pulling me up so that I was sitting instead of lying on the floor, "Babe, are you okay? Crystal, sweetheart, look at me. Crystal, come on." Hands framed my face, forced me to open my eyes, and wiped away the tears that were still hindering my vision.
Hazel eyes that I was used to seeing mischief and foolery in were now clouded with concern for me. "Jake?" I croaked out of a painfully dry throat. Damn, whatever they slipped to me was a real bitch to deal with. I tried to clear my throat, but there was no point. I felt…strange. Violated. Very much molested. Placing a hand on Jacob's chest for some sort of connection to what was real since everything around me was spinning, my head lowered and I shut my eyes with relief. I could trust him; I knew that.
"Crystal..." His gentle grip on my cheeks fell to my shoulders, and then tenderly pulled down my shirt which I had forgotten was leaving my bra fully exposed. Next his hands drifted down my sides quickly, assessing the damaged, I'm sure. When he realized that I was clad only in my panties, his hands shot back up to my face and he forced me to look at him again.
"Open your eyes," he tucked a stray hair behind my ear, "Come on; look at me." I did as instructed though the room tilted and spun when I made eye contact with him. As though he knew how unstable I was, he tightened his grip on me. "What happened?"
What did happen? That was an excellent question. "They put something in my drink…I…" everything before this moment was simple flashes. Swirling colors, arms pulling and tugging, leading me upstairs; lights dimming, sounds…confusion. "I don't know."
A sigh, "Did they hurt you?"
He didn't say it, but I knew what he was asking. Did they rape me? Abuse me? Hit me; physically harm me in some way? I shook my head, mute.
"Don't lie," his voice hardened and I shook my head again, my other hand finding its way to his chest with its partner.
"They didn't hurt me. They just... It's okay. I'm okay."
Jake stared at me for a long moment and then sighed again. "Come on." He tried to pull me to a standing position, but the room spun and my stomach heaved so violently that I had to lean heavily on him, gasping for breath. He immediately slipped a hand around my back to hold me up. "Can you walk?"
The room was doing slow revolutions. Jake kept coming in and out of focus and I clung to him desperately, trying to stay standing. Before I knew it, I was swept off of my feet and cradled in Jake's arms. If I had any sort of grasp on reality, I would have tried to force him to put me down, but instead, I simply snuggled into his warm body, drew from the heat that radiated off of him and the strength that he held me with.
He carried me out of the room, stopping to slide my skirt back on me, his knuckles skimming their way up my body accidently. I shivered, but not with revulsion…with awareness. Jake mumbled an apology before leading me down the stairs and out of the house through a backdoor, allowing as few people to see me as possible. Those that did gasped and murmured as Jake made his way past them, but with my eyes closed I had no idea who it was. When he tucked me into his car, leaning over me to strap me in, I slid my arms around his neck and refused to let him move.
"Crys, sweetheart, you have to let go. I'm taking you home."
I knew he was right, but everything around me was hazy, my head felt as though it had detached from my body, and I wasn't sure what was real and what was a part of the drug induced stupor that had become my terrible night. Clinging to him was my attempt to cling to reality. Something stable. As though realizing and understanding my desperation, Jake reached down to hug me briefly, wrapping strong warmth around me. Then he gently disentangled himself and leaned out of the car, shutting the door. Through hooded lids, I watched him walk around the front of the car, my fingers fidgeting with the purse he set on my lap. When he got in and started the car, the anxiety that was making my heart race finally began to subside and with a sigh I settled back into the leather seat, drifting to sleep as he drove me away from my most recent nightmare and into the dark night.