Post by Penny on May 29, 2012 22:25:17 GMT -5
You really don’t know how this happened- how any of this happened. It’s not like you, that wasn’t you, that couldn’t be you. A mantra that you can’t bear to stop repeating. You aren’t that weak. You keep telling yourself that. You HAVE to keep telling yourself that. That was long, long ago. How can you even remember it?
It’s all just a bad dream. That’s all it really can be.
It’s so hard. So hard to admit the pain you still get sometimes, the tightness in your chest you get whenever you get the dream, the fact you’re so short of breath thanks to it all. It’s so hard to admit that the nightmares still wake you up screaming, sometimes even crying after a particularly heavy nighttime battle. It’s so hard to admit you still think about her…
Raine. She always hated her name. Said it was ugly, hard to spell, sad. She hated the puns people would make. She hated being compared to something so terrible. But you? You loved it more than anything. She had the most beautiful blue eyes you could even think of- and when she cried, oh, it would break your heart. And you saw her cry so often. She would hold your hand late at night, after you’d sneaked up and into her bedroom so quietly neither of your parents could ever guess. She’d pour her feelings out to you, and you’d listen. You never talked much, if at all, but you were the best listener in the world. She loved that about you. You knew all, saw all, heard all- but you’d never tell a soul that wasn’t her. You were honest, frank, but gentle with everything you’d say. And above all else, you loved her. You loved her beyond anything else in the world… but you’d never told her.
You weren’t the only person she’d talk to, of course. You’d see her out with her lovers rather often- they always broke her heart. You hated them for that, hated them more than you hated any of those people in the books you’d read. You hated them from the bottom of your soul because they’d hurt her, and you could never fight back. In those days, you were weak, nearly as fragile as her. But in your mind, you could do anything. So that was how you'd fight back- you'd write stories, brutal, gruesome stories, just to get everything out. Nobody ever found out about them, because after they were finished being written, you'd take a match and burn them, or you'd tear it to bits, or you'd put it in the nearby creek. It was an outlet for the anger you felt, before The Event.
The Event. That's what you were calling it now? You supposed it was well enough. How else would you refer to it? By the date- May 16th? The day around which you'd start getting the nightmares the worst of all?
All in all, you blamed yourself for what happened to her. You blamed yourself for her pain, for her suffering. You blamed yourself for not knowing, not helping, not saving. You blamed yourself for not even realizing before it that there were people in this world who were worse, much, much worse, than the people Raine had been in love with. People who, with every fiber of your being, you despised. They were lucky to be locked up, safe and sound underground. They were lucky the judges had condemned them to death before you'd been able to get your hands on them. They were lucky that your parents had held you back at the trial, held you has hard as they could to your chair. They didn't realize just how much you loved her.
The truth was, there were people out there that hated Raine. You never could fathom this- everyone seemed to love her beyond compare. She was everything at your school- she was a leading lady in the school play, a cheerleader, the ASB Freshman Class President, and, by senior year- prom queen. People loved her and that was obvious. She was so kind to everyone. Why could anyone in the world possibly hate her? Up until the trial, up until The Event- you never even conceived it.
The nightmares would start like a flashback. A flashback that felt like an acid trip. It was early morning, around 7 AM. As you walked down the long dirt road to school, the sun was barely creeping up past the mountain tops. For some reason, today was sluggish- completely unlike spring as you know it. Fog laid on the ground so thick you couldn't see your hand in front of your body. Twice you narrowly avoided hitting a tree. But then, it'd start up. You'd realize that, at the fork in the road, Raine wasn't there. She wasn't waiting for you as she usually was. This made you worried and upset at the same time. Deep in your gut, you could tell something was wrong- horribly, horribly wrong. You'd take the right turn down the fork. The fog would lay in even thicker than before, bearing down on you like a heavy quilt. You'd suddenly started feeling short of breath, sweaty- you weren't running, not to your knowledge, and it wasn't hot in the slightest. You supposed it had to just be the mist. You'd start to see shadows all around you, shadows moving back and forth, following you. You'd quicken your pace to a fast walk. The shadows moved closer. Finally, you broke into a full-on sprint. As you tried to turn down one way, the shadows would block your path, so you'd run the other way. They were acting as sheepdogs- herding the little lamb to the slaughter.
And then... it went black. You came to a complete stop in front of your high school, at the scoreboard. You could see nothing until the black faded away.
The fog had moved out around the scoreboard in a huge circle, making it seem like you were encased in a bowl. The ground around you was clear, and you could see the top of the scoreboard, the dark, cloudy sky above you. And it was at that moment that you'd see her.
Raine was strung up to the scoreboard's post, tied around it like a hippie to a tree. She was bent forward slightly, her knees, head, upper body- all limp. Her arms were bound behind her. In front of her was a sign, but you didn't read it.
"RAINE!"
You'd ran to her, lifted up her face. It was bruised, battered. Her right eye was blackened, her nose askew, and her lip split. Blood was raining down her face. A blow had been delivered to the back of her head. You'd untied her as best as you could, pulling on the ropes that would only go tighter before you pulled out your Swiss Army Knife your dad had given you for protection. You cut the ropes, helped her to the ground, laying her bloody, tangled hair onto your legs. You desperately sought a pulse, some sign of life. But whatever you found was shallow.
You screamed. All you did was scream. You didn't even really know you were doing that until you felt hands pulling you away from her, pulling you away from the person you loved more than life- the person whose life you'd give your own to save. Adults from your school gathered round, two holding you from her, one calling an ambulance as a fourth searched for the same pulse you couldn't find. It wasn't until later you'd learned you'd been sobbing relentlessly as well, and it wasn't until the next day while reading the paper you'd see what the sign had said. It had said one simple word, in as big of letters as could be made of it: LESBO.
At the trial, you were enraged more than anything as they again brought up that term. There were three people on the stand- tried for homicide, hate crimes, assault and battery, and finally, what pissed you off more than anything- rape. You couldn't have told that from what had happened to her, but the hospital and subsequent autopsy reports confirmed the case. You broke down then and there, a sobbing wreck before the anger that came when the trio of boys, all in your grade, dared to plead innocent.
They weren't. You knew they weren't. It was all the audience members could do to keep you away from their throats, their eyes. You would make sure they felt pain. You'd scratch out their eyes, you'd rip out their jugulars- whatever it took to kill them and kill them painfully. You were taken out, and the next day you learned that the judges sided with you- the trio were hung the next morning.
It was then that you'd decided you'd never let anything like this happen again. It was then that you'd stopped going to church, started working out, started learning how to fight. That was ten years ago, and now you're one of the few atheists on the police force. It's some small way of helping, some small way of showing Raine, even though she's dead and buried and looking down on you from your own heaven, that she could get justice. She could get all the justice that you could give for her. It wouldn't bring her back, you understood that.
But maybe, just maybe... you'd prevent hate crimes like that from happening again.
It’s all just a bad dream. That’s all it really can be.
It’s so hard. So hard to admit the pain you still get sometimes, the tightness in your chest you get whenever you get the dream, the fact you’re so short of breath thanks to it all. It’s so hard to admit that the nightmares still wake you up screaming, sometimes even crying after a particularly heavy nighttime battle. It’s so hard to admit you still think about her…
Raine. She always hated her name. Said it was ugly, hard to spell, sad. She hated the puns people would make. She hated being compared to something so terrible. But you? You loved it more than anything. She had the most beautiful blue eyes you could even think of- and when she cried, oh, it would break your heart. And you saw her cry so often. She would hold your hand late at night, after you’d sneaked up and into her bedroom so quietly neither of your parents could ever guess. She’d pour her feelings out to you, and you’d listen. You never talked much, if at all, but you were the best listener in the world. She loved that about you. You knew all, saw all, heard all- but you’d never tell a soul that wasn’t her. You were honest, frank, but gentle with everything you’d say. And above all else, you loved her. You loved her beyond anything else in the world… but you’d never told her.
You weren’t the only person she’d talk to, of course. You’d see her out with her lovers rather often- they always broke her heart. You hated them for that, hated them more than you hated any of those people in the books you’d read. You hated them from the bottom of your soul because they’d hurt her, and you could never fight back. In those days, you were weak, nearly as fragile as her. But in your mind, you could do anything. So that was how you'd fight back- you'd write stories, brutal, gruesome stories, just to get everything out. Nobody ever found out about them, because after they were finished being written, you'd take a match and burn them, or you'd tear it to bits, or you'd put it in the nearby creek. It was an outlet for the anger you felt, before The Event.
The Event. That's what you were calling it now? You supposed it was well enough. How else would you refer to it? By the date- May 16th? The day around which you'd start getting the nightmares the worst of all?
All in all, you blamed yourself for what happened to her. You blamed yourself for her pain, for her suffering. You blamed yourself for not knowing, not helping, not saving. You blamed yourself for not even realizing before it that there were people in this world who were worse, much, much worse, than the people Raine had been in love with. People who, with every fiber of your being, you despised. They were lucky to be locked up, safe and sound underground. They were lucky the judges had condemned them to death before you'd been able to get your hands on them. They were lucky that your parents had held you back at the trial, held you has hard as they could to your chair. They didn't realize just how much you loved her.
The truth was, there were people out there that hated Raine. You never could fathom this- everyone seemed to love her beyond compare. She was everything at your school- she was a leading lady in the school play, a cheerleader, the ASB Freshman Class President, and, by senior year- prom queen. People loved her and that was obvious. She was so kind to everyone. Why could anyone in the world possibly hate her? Up until the trial, up until The Event- you never even conceived it.
The nightmares would start like a flashback. A flashback that felt like an acid trip. It was early morning, around 7 AM. As you walked down the long dirt road to school, the sun was barely creeping up past the mountain tops. For some reason, today was sluggish- completely unlike spring as you know it. Fog laid on the ground so thick you couldn't see your hand in front of your body. Twice you narrowly avoided hitting a tree. But then, it'd start up. You'd realize that, at the fork in the road, Raine wasn't there. She wasn't waiting for you as she usually was. This made you worried and upset at the same time. Deep in your gut, you could tell something was wrong- horribly, horribly wrong. You'd take the right turn down the fork. The fog would lay in even thicker than before, bearing down on you like a heavy quilt. You'd suddenly started feeling short of breath, sweaty- you weren't running, not to your knowledge, and it wasn't hot in the slightest. You supposed it had to just be the mist. You'd start to see shadows all around you, shadows moving back and forth, following you. You'd quicken your pace to a fast walk. The shadows moved closer. Finally, you broke into a full-on sprint. As you tried to turn down one way, the shadows would block your path, so you'd run the other way. They were acting as sheepdogs- herding the little lamb to the slaughter.
And then... it went black. You came to a complete stop in front of your high school, at the scoreboard. You could see nothing until the black faded away.
The fog had moved out around the scoreboard in a huge circle, making it seem like you were encased in a bowl. The ground around you was clear, and you could see the top of the scoreboard, the dark, cloudy sky above you. And it was at that moment that you'd see her.
Raine was strung up to the scoreboard's post, tied around it like a hippie to a tree. She was bent forward slightly, her knees, head, upper body- all limp. Her arms were bound behind her. In front of her was a sign, but you didn't read it.
"RAINE!"
You'd ran to her, lifted up her face. It was bruised, battered. Her right eye was blackened, her nose askew, and her lip split. Blood was raining down her face. A blow had been delivered to the back of her head. You'd untied her as best as you could, pulling on the ropes that would only go tighter before you pulled out your Swiss Army Knife your dad had given you for protection. You cut the ropes, helped her to the ground, laying her bloody, tangled hair onto your legs. You desperately sought a pulse, some sign of life. But whatever you found was shallow.
You screamed. All you did was scream. You didn't even really know you were doing that until you felt hands pulling you away from her, pulling you away from the person you loved more than life- the person whose life you'd give your own to save. Adults from your school gathered round, two holding you from her, one calling an ambulance as a fourth searched for the same pulse you couldn't find. It wasn't until later you'd learned you'd been sobbing relentlessly as well, and it wasn't until the next day while reading the paper you'd see what the sign had said. It had said one simple word, in as big of letters as could be made of it: LESBO.
At the trial, you were enraged more than anything as they again brought up that term. There were three people on the stand- tried for homicide, hate crimes, assault and battery, and finally, what pissed you off more than anything- rape. You couldn't have told that from what had happened to her, but the hospital and subsequent autopsy reports confirmed the case. You broke down then and there, a sobbing wreck before the anger that came when the trio of boys, all in your grade, dared to plead innocent.
They weren't. You knew they weren't. It was all the audience members could do to keep you away from their throats, their eyes. You would make sure they felt pain. You'd scratch out their eyes, you'd rip out their jugulars- whatever it took to kill them and kill them painfully. You were taken out, and the next day you learned that the judges sided with you- the trio were hung the next morning.
It was then that you'd decided you'd never let anything like this happen again. It was then that you'd stopped going to church, started working out, started learning how to fight. That was ten years ago, and now you're one of the few atheists on the police force. It's some small way of helping, some small way of showing Raine, even though she's dead and buried and looking down on you from your own heaven, that she could get justice. She could get all the justice that you could give for her. It wouldn't bring her back, you understood that.
But maybe, just maybe... you'd prevent hate crimes like that from happening again.