Page 32 of I Despise You
Chapter 11
WHEN I WAKE UP IN THEmorning after a whole night of tossing and turning, a part of me wants to pretend that yesterday didn’t happen.
But the slight discomfort between my legs is a wicked reminder. I don’t want to leave my room. Ever. I can’t imagine what I’d do if I saw him.
My brain is building a case against Chase.
A case against myself.
He lured me into a room through Brittany, because that as sure as hell wasn’t her room, and then he had his way with me, which is a somewhat nicer way of saying that he raped me.
I close my eyes for a moment and let out a groan.
A question enters my mind, and I can’t push it out.
Why didn’t I stop him?
Why didn’t I tell him to stop?
Why didn’t I scream?
Why the hell did that feel so good?
And the best answer I have is that I don’t know. I tried to get him to stop. Sort of. But I was surprised. Shocked. Unable to do anything.
And I know I shouldn’t blame myself for it. None of it is my fault.
I had no clue what I was walking into. I had no idea he’d be there or what he intended. Just because I kind of enjoyed it in the end or had an orgasm—two, actually, but who’s counting—doesn’t make it right.
I snatch my phone off the nightstand, and I’m only a few seconds away from Googling how a rape victim should feel, because the way I feel right now feels wrong somehow, but I stop myself in time.
My brain has all the facts that tell me I shouldn’t feel guilty. It doesn’t matter that my body reacted. It happens, and it’s not something I had any control over. It also doesn’t mean I wanted to have sex with Chase.
And yet, I’m conflicted.
I don’t feel like a victim. Just violated in a different way. Maybe one part of me ended up wanting it eventually, and I feel like I’m betraying every victim out there by being so messed up about it.
I feel like there’s something seriously wrong with me, and that the whole world will judge me for it.
I shouldn’t feel how I feel.
Or maybe it doesn’t matter. Everyone processes things that happen to them differently.
I just want to stop thinking.
I want to get out of my mind.
Out of my body.
But I can’t.
I should blame Chase for tricking me and doing this to me. And Brittany, if Chase didn’t force her to lie to me.
To stop my brain from rambling barely coherent thoughts, I need to focus my attention on something else.
Schoolwork.
Schoolwork is good.
