Looking out at the track, memories came flooding back. It had been three years since that day. Three years, six months, nineteen days, and eight hours since that moment when everything changed. Salty tears flooded my lavender eyes. They flowed like waterfalls over my flushed cheeks. My mind went numb from the horrible visions filling my head. The visions of those eyes. Those grey, hard eyes. They contained no feeling, no remorse, no humanity. All they did was steal from me and drain me of my strength, of my innocence, of everything that once brought joy. Happy moments all but ceased to exist after… after… him…………….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            Yep, did you get my email? She typed back.

            BallisticsChick (Athena): sur did + I’m fine

 

            After slipping a note under my parents’ door stating that I’d be at Lizzie’s, I hopped on my bike and took off down the road.

            “Why hello Athena. Isn’t this a pleasant surprise?” Mrs. Dako said in her usual honey-coated voice as she opened the door.

            “Hello, Mrs. Dako.”

            “You’re just in time. Lizzie and I were just about to have lunch. Won’t you join us?”

            “Sure, where are the boys?” I asked, referring to Lizzie’s two little brothers, who were usually running around the two story home.

            “They’re with their father. He’s only going to be home for a few days so he decided to take them down to the river.” (Mr. Dako was a historian so he tended to travel an awful lot.)

            “Cool. Where’s-“ I began but was cut off.

            “Athena!” Lizzie called from the top of the stairs.

 

            After lunch, Lizzie and I decided to go for a ride.

            “So are you going to tell me what’s going on?” she asked as we glided along the street.

            “Can it wait ‘til we get to the park?” I said, avoiding her gaze.

            “Sure.”

 

            Lizzie was still eying me suspiciously while we locked up our bikes on the rack. There’s no way out now, I thought with a sigh, either I tell her the truth or think of a really good story. But I knew it was hopeless. Nothing I could say besides the truth would fool her. As she said before, she isn’t called the 11^th grade psychiatrist for nothing.

            “Athena?” her eyebrows disappeared amongst her auburn hair. (Which is her way of saying, ‘I’m waiting.’)

            I took one last slow breath before I began. “Do you remember the meet last Friday?”

            “Yeah, we kicked Kelton and Oliver Mills’ behinds, what about it?’

            “And do you remember James Simmons?”

            “The sick bastard who raped Jennifer in the seventh grade? Yeah, I remember him. But what does – (little red flag starting to go up) Wait, he was there?”

            “Yeah. And after everyone was gone he –“ tears started to roll down my face as those memories started to flood my mind.

            “Did he hurt you?” Lizzie whispered, putting a comforting arm around me.

            “He raped me,” I said quietly.

            “What?” she questioned.

            “HE RAPED ME!” I screamed. The tears were flowing like a river from my eyes to the ground.

            “Athena, I…” Lizzie was obviously shocked. For once she couldn’t find the words to say, “Are you sure it was him?”

            “Yes!” I shrieked (not meaning to of course but given the situation, I believe I had a reason to.) “I’ll never forget his voice, his eyes, his weight on top of me!”

            “Athena, it’s alright now, sweetheart, you’re safe,” Lizzie said in an attempt to calm me.

            “I-I don’t know what to do! I’m so confused about, about….e-everything!” I stuttered, Lizzie’s cool-headedness obviously not rubbing off.

            “You know what?” Lizzie smiled, after I’d spent about fifteen minutes crying, “We need to saddle up and go for a ride.”

 

            About a half an hour later and Lizzie and I were leading her dun coloured Anglo-Arab, Not Doing Nothing, (call name: Sabre) and my black Arabian mare, Ametheesta, out of their stalls and up to the mounting blocks. It took just seconds for the two of us to swing on up onto the saddle less backs of our horses and bust out into a gallop.

 

            All that can be heard for the next fifteen minutes is the rhythmic pounding of the gallop and my breathing following the beat. As this time rolls by and the tempo of the horses slows, I slip into another one of my sleepless dreams. (or should I say nightmare)

 

            I’m at the track again, running, my finely toned calf muscles quickly tightening and locking up to where I’m forced to rest. I collapse onto the bleachers, pulling one leg up to stretch. He’s there as well. Although, I can’t see him yet, I still know he’s there. I’ve had this vision many times before and I know what is coming. I feel a firm grip form around my waist. It pulls me down. I can see nothing but grass but feel everything else. Sobs break free from my throat as he penetrates me, holding me down with one hand as he goes on. And all I can do is scream. Scream, cry, and wish it would end.

 

“Athena?” Lizzie shouted, grabbing the reins from my hands and bringing Ametheesta to a stop and saving me from my daydream.

            “Did you say something?” I asked, not remembering where I was, what I was doing, or who I was with.

            “Um, yeah! I’ve only been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes!”

            “Sorry.”

            “It’s okay. Just stop spacing out on me alright. You’re scaring me.” She gives me a sympathetic smile. She’s been here before with Jennifer. Although she’ll either never know or never admit but Jennifer taught her the greatest lesson a 11^th grade psychiatrist can learn: dealing with a rape victim.

 

            “See ya later,” I called to Lizzie. I waited until my friend’s Dodge Ram disappeared around the corner before closing the door. It’s funny: after I told her what had happened, I was actually was able to chill out and have some fun. I mean, we rode down to the lake and I got to take Ametheesta swimming like we used to do. I actually laughed and joked for the first time since my rape. And look, now I’m crying. It really was a great day. But my great day came crashing down as Melany came storming down the stairs with a suitcase. “Hey Mel. What’s going on? And why are you carrying that suitcase? You know you can’t move for another six years right?”

            “Mom left,” she stated, brushing past me and ripping the door open.

            “What are you talking about?”

            “She left! She’s gone! And why? Because Dad can’t keep his middle-aged butt away from the bar!” I’ve never seen my sister like this but… I did know where she was coming from. “I’m staying at Dana’s.”

            “Wait a second! I don’t mind you staying with a friend, I don’t blame you but I’d at least like to know how long.

            “I don’t know. I packed for a week. I’ll be back when I run out of clothes.” And with that, she was gone.

 

            “Dad?” I called from the window seat in the living room, wiping the tears away from my face as fast as I could. Funny, I could have sworn I heard the door slam. And I was right because at that very second my father came stumbling into the room, a thick cloud of beer breath trailing behind him.

            “What a night!” he bellowed, running into the coffee table on his way to the stairs.

            “Did you drive home?” I stepped in his way, letting him know that I was there.

            “Out my way!” his words were slurred and his grammar was worse than his coordination.

            “Did you drive home?” I repeated, standing my ground.

            “What it to ya?”

            “How much have you had to drink?” I asked, a little bewildered. He has NEVER drank this much!

“I said: out my way!”

            “No! Now sit down!” I screamed, pushing him toward the couch.

            Smack! And with one swing of his arm I crashed onto the floor… hard… holding a hand to my face. I was stunned. I couldn’t believe he had hit me! The side of my face was buzzing from his stinging blow.

            “I told ya to get out my way, bitch!” some of the alcohol must have passed through his system at that moment because he stared at me and started babbling off apologies. “Baby girl, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

            It was too late. I was already half way out the door.

 

            Winded and sore, I approached Alana’s house on the other end of the neighborhood. I could help but wonder why the city zoned half the neighborhood for St. Prince and the other for Kelton. (stupid, I know) Knowing exactly what to do, (I’ve done this many times before) I slipped around into the backyard and proceeded to throw rocks at Alana’s window. Seconds later she was trying to pry it open.

            “What are you doing here, Leopard?” she hissed, jokingly. (We called each other by our school mascots.)

            “Coming to see if you’d like a rematch, Connemara!” I shouted.

            “Sounds good to me but I promise you that the outcome will be very different from Friday!”

            “Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that.” And with that she disappeared, reappearing a minute later wearing her yellow and green track uniform, and sliding down the gutter. (I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen off yet from as many times she’s come down it.) And to my surprise so did Charlie Mariatta and Marissa Cancoon. Charlie was a spunky, sweet girl of Bi orientation. People don’t seem to mind, however, because of her lovable nature. She gets along with everyone, from Goths to cheerleaders, from geeks to jocks, she just doesn’t care. If you have a heart that beats and a brain that can at least semi function, you can be her friend. She is a brownish green eyed, red head sophomore. Marissa is a 5’7” blue eyed, brown haired chick who had the brain of a brunette and the disposition of a stereotypical blonde. Ditsy and happy-go-lucky, she always sees the cup as half full. She was a junior. Both were long distance runners for the St. Prince Track Team.

            Trying to dry up my tears, I waited for all three to slip off the gutter before I approached. I starred, dumbfounded, at them, trying to come up with a reason why they would be at Alana’s house.

            “Alright, what are you two doing here?” I asked, not coming up with one.

            “Well,” Marissa began in her abnormally preppy voice, “I’m giving Alana here a makeover!” She clapped her hands merrily. Alana glared daggers at her. If looks could kill then Marissa would have already dropped dead by now.

            “And I’m just here to watch,” Charlie smiled. She’d obviously enjoyed it thoroughly.

            “Really now,” I smirked, trying not to collapse with laughter because Alana had MAKE-UP on!!!

            “Don’t say a word!” Alana growled, looking like she was about to rip the gutter off the side of the house and bash Marissa over the head with it.

            “Anyway,” I said, tears suddenly springing to my eyes as I remembered why I was here, “do you guys want to go for a run real quick?”

            “Sure!” Marissa exclaimed, clapping her hands once more.

            “Why not?” Charlie shrugged.

            “As long as she doesn’t bring that forty pound make-up kit of her’s along,” Alana muttered, wiping the sparkly hot pink lipgloss from her mouth with the back of her hand. I wanted to tell her that it was very unladylike but she would murder me if I did. And besides, I was in no mood to be dishing out witty remarks. And with that all four of us set off, my fellow sprinter (Alana) and me quickly leaving the long distance runners behind.

            Stopping to catch our breath and to let Charlie and Marissa catch up, I started to tell Alana about what had happened.

            “What a bastard!” she roared, after I’d finished.

            “What’s she yelling about?” Charlie breathed, out of breath from having to run so fast to catch up.

            “That drunken son of a bitch hit her!”

            “Alana please!” I begged, turning to the other two exhausted runners, “My dad came home more drunk than he’s ever been in his life because my mom left him, we got in an argument, and he slapped me, that’s all.”

            “That’s all?!?” the three said in unison.

            “You say it like it’s nothing!” Charlie shouted.

            “That’s because it is nothing!” I cried, bursting into tears, “Now stop yelling!”

            “Oh, Athena,” Alana said calmly, pulling me into a hug. Sobs wracked my small body.

            “As if I hadn’t already gone through enough with James!” I croaked.

            “James?” Marissa questioned, “You mean James Simmons?” I nodded. “What does he have to do with anything?” I tried to answer but I was crying even harder now and could barely breathe let alone speak.

            “What happened, Athena?” Alana asked, “What did James do?”

            “He raped me!” I managed to choke out. The three girls gasped.

            “Not again!” Marissa groaned, cursing under her breath.

            “When?’ Alana demanded softly, trying to keep the conversation quiet and under control. (It was, after all, about ten o’clock at night and most of the neighborhood was asleep.)

            “Last Friday, after the meet,” I whimpered.

            “Damn it !” Marissa cursed, walking a few feet away. Being the sympathetic crier that she was, tears started flowing over her flushing cheeks.

            “What’s going on guys?” Shauna Ross called from across the street.

            “Yo, Comma-Kazi!” Alana called back. Shauna was a fifteen-year-old sophomore at Kelton High School. She was 5’6” with black hair and had dark brown eyes with a light brown streak in the right eye curtsy of a laser surgery gone wrong. She was an English, math, and history nerd who carries at least three books (one sci-fi, a fantasy, and one mystery) at all times. Basically she’s the resident encyclopedia and repository of knowledge. Sarcasm her best friend even though she’s devastatingly shy. She has an extremely quirky and obscure sense of humor that almost nobody ever gets. Rather pessimistic and has low self-confidence but is fiercely loyal and stubborn so it’s not surprising that she’s overly competitive when it comes to supporting the home team. Everyone tells her she’d be great in track but does she listen? Nope! Her number one response is, ‘I’m a writer, NOT a runner!’ This is were she got her nickname: Comma-Kazi. She’s the personal editor for all her other writer friends who has a habit of putting commas everywhere. (Only Lizzie and Alana call her this.)

            Not wanting Shauna to see my tears, I quickly brushed them away with the back of my hand and tried to appear calm. (It’s not as easy as it sounds.)

            “You look like hell, Athena,” she pointed out.

            “Thanks. Nice to see you too, Shauna,” I rolled my eyes.

            “Isn’t it?” the Kelton student smiled, starting another round of Who Can Be The Most Sarcastic.

            “Oh, and I just love what you did with your hair!” I sneered, “Morning bed head in the middle of the night is fabulous.”

            “I know right! It’s all the rage nowadays.”

            “Really now? I thought My Little Brother Took The Scissors To My Hair was the style?”

            “Guess not. Just curious, but when’d you get a little brother?”

            “My mother decided to do foster care.”

            “Awesome!” with nothing else to say, Shauna gave up. I win! I guess the fact that my dad was a drunken lunatic right now paid off.

            “Listen guys, I’m gonna get going,” I said wearily, exhaustion suddenly overtaking me.

            “Alright, but don’t do anything stupid, Thena,” Alana warned.

            “It’s Athena remember?” Shauna butted in, not getting what Alana had meant, and trying to redeem herself from her recent defeat, “Of course she’s going to do something stupid.”

            “Okay, and while I’m being stupid, you can go get yourself another haircut,” I smirked, a little too viciously.

            “Ouch, that hurt,” again, she gave up. Looks like I win for the second time in less than five minutes. I think it’s a new record.

            Not wanting to drag out another battle, I left, making my way, slowly, back home.

 

            Dad wasn’t there when I got back. The only thing waiting for me was a huge wreck of a living room. The coffee table had been turned on its side, spilling the magazines onto the floor, the couch cushions had been thrown around the room, and our oak end table had been pushed upside down, the lamp now in pieces on the carpet. If Mom was here, she’d flip and I certainly didn’t want that. She was already mad enough at Dad, without having to clean up after him while he is drunk, so pushing sleep out of my mind, I got to fixing the place up as best I could.

 

            No one came home that night or for the next few days. I’d stayed up until four o’clock every night, getting only a half an hour of sleep in before my alarm went off, then went for my morning jog with my golden retriever, Erin.

This morning was no different. I got ready for school, did my track thing, and trudged off to the bus stop. I was able catch about ten minutes of Z’s on the bus, but it was no where near as much as I needed. When we’d reached St. Prince, I decided to skip before school practice and go straight to biology instead. Mrs. Samtons picked the worst day of the year to give a test too. I already know I failed it, since I only answered three of the questions before I nodded off. Next thing I knew, Brett was shaking me awake and we were handing in our papers.

            Great, I thought, I’m sure to get a lecture and/or scolding note when she hands them back.

            “You alright, Athena?” Brett asked during the genetics lab, “You missed practice, which by the way, Coach isn’t too happy about, and now you’re falling asleep during class. What’s up?”

            “Nothing,” I answered, only half there, “I didn’t get much sleep last night, that’s all.”

            “Okay, I can believe that, but why?”

            “I have insomnia, remember,” I semi-lied. Sure I didn’t take my medicine last night, but I don’t think even that would have put me to sleep.

            “Yeah, wanna tell me the real reason now?” Brett raised his eyebrows, almost the same way Lizzie did. (Which, just for the record, I’ve always found rather creepy.)

            “That is!” I yell-whispered defensively, only to be shushed by Mrs. Samtons.

            Brett was forced to let it go after that, since the timer went off and we had to go back to our seats.

 

            The bell rang and I was about to leave to room, when Brett linked arms with me and made me walk with him to history.

            “So what’s really been going on?” he questioned.

            “Are you trying to interrogate me?” I smirked, “’Cause ya know I’d win that battle.”

            “Maybe. It’s just, you’ve been acting rather weird since the last meet. And don’t think I’m the only one whose noticed. You were the topic of discussion in the locker room today, while Coach Meredith was rearranging the hurtles.”

            “That’s not exactly surprising, you know. Don’t think I’m oblivious to how you talk about all us girls when we’re not around and which one of us you guys would want to make-out with the most.”

            The tall blonde blushed, revealing the fact that I was right and that there was certainly more to just ‘making-out’ that they wish they were bragging about.

            “That’s not what I mean. Everyone was there,” Brett explained, “The truth is: we’re worried about you, Thena.”

            “Well, you have nothing to be worried about,” I snapped, storming off, not caring whether I got caught for skipping or not.

 

            “Whoa! Look who’s decided to become a Skipper,” a familiar, mocking voice called as I stepped off of school grounds and into the small woodland area which had become somewhat of a popular hangout for St. Prince students.

            I turned around to find James with his arm draped around his girlfriend’s shoulders. As usual, Laura Celestrin was wearing her extra miniskirt and a low cut, skin tight tank top. Her blonde hair was tied back in a bun and her blue eyes glared at me. this look and her record for sleeping around, was what got her the title of “The St. Prince Slut” and the fact that she was on the Varsity Cheer Squad as a flier, deemed her “Hades’ PepGirl.’ Why James didn’t mind the fact that she was having sex with so many other guys was beyond me, but then again, it was James Simmons. I know if it was my own boyfriend, Steve, he’d be heartbroken.

            The little anorexic always sneered at me when we passed each other, even more so lately since I’m sure James told her about what he did to me. Of course, he probably said that I’d wanted it, which really must have ticked her off.

            I really didn’t want to hang around anywhere near James, especially with Laura around, so I just walked past her. True to her nature, the cheerleader didn’t give up that easily and followed me until we were out of earshot.

            “How dare you sleep with my boyfriend!” she hissed.

            “Excuse me!” I whipped around to face her, staring into her crystal blue eyes.

            “You heard me, bitch! No one just goes and sleeps with him unless I say so!”

            “Bitch? Me?”

            “Yes, you!”

            “Yeah, you’re right. I am a bitch. A bitch is a female dog, a dog barks, bark is part of a tree, a tree is part of nature, and nature’s beautiful, so that’s for the compliment.” I spat.

            “Huh?” Laura queried, a confused look on her face.

            “Just something I learned from a friend. It’s used as a comeback against morons.”

            I left her to ponder that, knowing that in a couple of days, she’d figure it out and come find me. But until then, I had better things to do.