October Ordeal

• Sian Gale, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2008

“Boom Boom,” the music continued to blast through my ear drums as I staggered up the road to the deafening sound of Cascada. The combination of Jacob’s Creek red and October’s bitter breeze froze my body, causing me to turn blue.

At that time there was nothing but black in the night sky, only the faint glow from the street lamp across the road. With the lack of light I managed to break both my heels as I stumbled up the steps leading to my front door. I rummaged in my bag to find the keys, the Yale lock was nothing but a blur as I struggled to position the key in line with it. When I finally unlocked the door I was unable to open it, my hands were ice. Suddenly a gloved hand appeared from behind me and pushed open my door. Before I could even thank the stranger my mouth was being held firmly shut by the same gloved hand. A manly force shoved me into my house, pushing me to the floor. I lay on the carpet staring up at a masked, robust figure. I tried to scream but the little sound that came from my mouth was muffled by the clamp of the gloved hand. His grip became tighter. He began to rapidly thrust his hips into mine. Pinning me to the floor he drilled his body parts into mine, repeatedly. It was as if lighting had struck in the same place more than once. He yelled names at me as his actions became more powerful. The mix of alcohol and lack of air caused my head to spin. I drifted off, feeling the cotton of his gloves caressing my tense, motionless body.

I came round confused, my head pounding, and my body perspiring, unsure of my surroundings. My head started to clear; I recognised the water stain on the ceiling above where the bath had overflowed weeks ago. I was in my house, in my hallway!

After a while I was able to come to my feet, however, fell straight to the floor again. An agonising pain shot through my body. I must have laid there for ages, my stomache cramping up every five minuets. What was wrong with me? I looked down at myself; my clothes were in a state of disarray. Tears began to run down my trembling face.

I reached for the phone, but had no idea who to call. Over the next few weeks I hid the fact that I had been raped, I was in denial. I was scared that once I admitted to myself what had happened I would open a flood gate that would threaten to drown me in a sea of emotion, distress and fear. I felt I wasn’t ready for that, not then. My self confidence was at an all time low, I couldn’t bear to look at myself. I was disgusted and ashamed; I felt dirty and no amount of showers could change that!