Page 67 of The Naughty Virgin

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Karina

“Brenda really?” I asked confusedly.

My friend was sitting on my bed, crying, her hands gripping the coverlet, used tissues scattered all around.

“I was raped,” she whispered. “I know I was.”

I shook my head uncertainly. I could hardly remember anything from the party. I couldn’t remember how we’d gotten there, what we’d done, how we’d gotten back. In fact, I’d had a visualization of Caleb and Caden appearing, my twin brothers, but they were in California. I shook my head. I was useless, with no recollection of the activities that had gone down.

“Bren, tell me what happened,” I said urgently.

“It’s this guy Cole,” she sobbed quietly. “I met him in my Anthro class, he said I was cute, that I should stop by a part his frat was hosting. He said to bring friends, so I brought you and Vera.”

Okay, I sort of remembered this. Yeah, I hadn’t wanted to go out but ended up tagging along because Brenda and Vera had been insistent, saying I was a stick in the mud, all that kind of stuff.

“And then what?” I pushed gently.

“We went up to Cole’s room,” she sobbed. “There were a bunch of guys there, the ‘made’ brothers, the ones who are seniors and do whatever they want. They made … they made … me and Vera have sex,” she said, her lips quivering, fresh tears pouring down her cheeks.

“With each other?” I said aghast. “Oh my god, how did that happen?”

“I’m not sure, it was all so fast,” she wailed. “They told me that I was a cool girl, that I should be cool with it, it was just girl on girl action. If I wanted to stay, I should take off my clothes and Vera and I should … you know, touch each other.”

“What? But why’d you do it?” I gasped.

“Because they were all watching,” she cried, bursting into fresh tears. “You know how I’ve been depressed recently, my grandmother died and school’s so stressful. I thought if I did what those boys wanted, I dunno … I’d be popular I guess and maybe Cole would like me.”

“Bren, I don’t know,” I said doubtfully. “He sounds manipulative to me.”

“You think I don’t know that now?” she screeched. “Of course Cole’s an asshole, he made me do things I didn’t want to, I feel so sad, disrespected and … just dirty,” she finished in a whisper.

I had no idea how I was supposed to react, but I patted her shoulder gently, trying my best to comfort.

“It’ll be fine,” I said. “Let’s go to the hospital, we can get a rape kit done.”

“Karina,” she said with a pout. “It’s too late. It’s already been days and rape kits aren’t good for more than twenty-four hours. It’s way, way, way too late. No one will ever believe me.”

“No that’s not true,” I said forcefully. “I believe you. I wish I could remember more but that pot must have gotten to me. I was out the entire time.” At least I knew that much for certain.

“No Karina, I’m not going to the hospital, I’m not getting a rape kit done,” said Brenda firmly.

“Well, how about talking to a counselor then?” I asked hopefully. “You know the Student Health Center has amazing services, it’s all free and confidential, you could just go for one session,” I said persuasively. For some reason, I thought it was really important that she log her actions ASAP, that there was some record of her distress with professionals.

And it was as if Brenda read my mind.

“Don’t tell anyone,” she said confidentially. “But I am telling someone … I have a meeting set up with a reporter from Rolling Stone tomorrow. Isn’t that exciting? It’s going to be an exposé that blows the school apart.”

Shaking my head, I didn’t reply. What could go wrong? Just about a million things.

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