Summer Girl

I stare at the shadow of the fan upon my mom’s ceiling. My mom’s bed was unmade, as it always was. The TV plays shows I’ve seen before, casting a dim light into the room, casting the very shadow I’m staring at.1

I use to be afraid of the dark. Back when I was still “innocent”, believing in monsters lurking in the cluttered area beneath my bed, or aliens with long fingers and stick figures, fading through my walls to take me away. I still believe these things are there, but I’d rather they take me away instead of leaving me here to suffer.2

I write this to take my mind off of these cruel beasts. To take my mind off the name I love so much that’s carved into my flesh.3

I remember back when I was a nobody. I was the girl no one knew. Even the teachers at school would say my name, and when I would raise my hand, they wouldn’t see and I was absent a third of my sophomore year. Only a fourth of that was I really not at school.4

Somehow, despite my lack of involvement in school, it stressed me. During summer I was free from depression. I even made what you might call friends. Really, they were just people that hung out at an abandoned house I would walk by. During summer, I stood out, finally revealing my body in skimpy clothes instead of my usual loose ones. Someone would be sitting on the porch, a plastic bottle with Pepsi written on it, yet clear liquid filled it. They would see me watching them with envy in my eyes, and ask if I’d like some.5

I started this summer hobby back when I was thirteen. That summer was the first time I ever got drunk. I liked beer, tequila, rum, anything with alcohol, but I had a sweet spot for the heat of vodka. Even if it was the cheap store-brand, I was wasted with its mere taste. That summer, since I was a newbie, my “friends” would buy me the alcohol. Often it would be a male buying me it, and they would ask for a kiss in return.6

I had my first kiss that summer, as well. One time this guy, Derek, he was nineteen but had a fake ID, wanted a little more than a kiss. He made sure I drank a portion of the vodka, and took me back to the abandoned house. He led me to one of the room upstairs that people had pitched in to buy an old mattress, in case people got too drunk to go home. He put me on the bed and kissed me, used his fingers in me, and taught me how to use my hand on him. Afterwards I went home to an empty house—my parents were gone again.7

Now I look back on that summer and know I was lucky to have gotten that far with my “innocence”. I guess that’s what people call it.8

Two days later, school started. I’d see some of the people I drank with at school, but they wouldn’t recognize me. I was finally in high school, finally one of the big kids. I adapted well. My birthday came and went, a small card on the table with $14 from my parents. I heard girls at my school saying how their parents had given them everything—CDs, a new computer, a car. Things teenagers wanted.9

Winter came and I would walk by the abandoned house, hoping to see movement. Nothing but rats and mice finding shelter from the cold. I walked away in disappointment, to go home to my own empty house to cry in my bed. That was the year that Linkin Park because popular. With the money from my birthday I bought the CD and put it on replay, while I laid in the dark, thinking about the monsters that could be hidden in my room, waiting for the right moment to strike.10

I began to realize that I was too plain for those monsters. I would forget the fear and wondered if there were others out there with this same fear. And then I’d think about the coming summer and what treasures I will find there.11

The phone rings and I snap back to the present. It’s my mom, calling from work, saying she won’t be home for another six hours. It was already seven. I knew I’d be asleep by then. I briefly wonder why I don’t sneak out but I know why. 12

The summer after my freshman year came slowly and painfully, yet somehow quicker than usual. Things at my house had been getting pretty bad. For the brief hours my parents were together, they’d fight and scream. The abandoned house is where I wanted to escape to, to get away from the pain that would actually hurt.13

When I first walked by that abandoned house, only a few other people were there. I recognized a few of them, and somehow they recognized me, too. The house smelled of mildew and rats, and together we all cleaned out the house. The mattress upstairs was replaced and a part of me regretted losing that sentimental piece where I had first felt passion and the feel of intimacy.14

It took a week or two, but the party scene kicked back up and I was getting alcohol again. For the few hours I was at home and sober, listening to my parents yells and cusses, I wondered why I hadn’t missed the lack of sharpness of reality from the real world. After another week of my parents screaming, my mom knocked on my bedroom door. They were separating, until they were better. I could tell be her tears that they would never be better. 15

After she shut the door, I ran to the shower and turned it on as hot as possible. I didn’t care that the water burnt my skin and I became red. I kind of liked it. Then the tears wouldn’t stop. I kept thinking about how unfair life was, how cruel my parents are, how I was betrayed. But I found a way for revenge. I had always kept a pair of scissors in my bathroom, and I spread the blades wide. When I dressed and snuck out of the house, it was with a thin cut across my left wrist.16

At the abandoned house, I drank half a bottle of Absolut. Some point during the night I looked up from my bottle of vodka and saw a familiar face. He recognized me and noticed my state—depressed, drunk, and lonely. It was Derek. He told me it was his birthday, and I was the only girl he wanted to celebrate with. I drank another fourth of the vodka while he told me this, the yells of my parents echoing in my mind. The next thing I knew, his lips were on mine and my pants were being pulled down. I hadn’t bothered with underwear after the shower and then his fingers were in me. Shirt torn off, bra broken on its way. Him in my hand. Then him in me and pain. That pain I felt despite the dull life of vodka. After he came and he laid there satisfied, I couldn’t remember if he pulled out or used a condom. I told him happy birthday.17

When I came home my mom was waiting for me. I was still drunk, and I tried hiding my wrist behind me. She guessed that I was out drinking but made me promise no drugs. The next morning she took me to get birth control. I wondered if she could tell what I’d done the night before. If she could, she didn’t mention it.18

I didn’t party or see Derek for a week. By that time my mother stopped noticing me again and I was invisible once more. Every night after I snuck out, got drunk, and tried hooking up with Derek again—since my mother had put me in the Pill, I assumed she wasn’t against what I was doing. They still gave me free alcohol. One night I saw Derek lead a girl a few years older than me up those stairs he once led me. I ran into the bathroom and found a rusted nail someone didn’t see to clean up. The other cut on my wrist was a thin scab, and beside it I created a new friend for it. I stared at it and cried and cried.19

When I emerged from the bathroom, I smelled something I’ve never smelled before besides briefly on passing kids at school. I saw a boy in the living room with a multicolored pipe in his hand, the small bowl flickering with embers. He saw me watching, my mascara small circles under my eyes, and gestured for me to come over to him. His name was Billy. After I took a few hits, he led me back to the bathroom and put me on the counter. He fucked me harder than Derek had. The whole time Billy was in me I wondered if this was what he and that tramp were doing. A part of me knew, and that part urged Billy harder.20

Now I trace those scars on my wrist and felt the ridges of his name that’s still scabbed. I know now that losing my virginity, or “innocence”, at fourteen was not the best choice I ever made, or getting high, but if I hadn’t I wouldn’t be here now, knowing what I know. Knowing that the monsters won’t hurt me.21

The rest of that summer consisted of getting high and/or drunk. I didn’t quit when school started again and I lost track of names. During the hazy bliss of these days, I realized what the monsters were. They were everyone at school who finally saw me, whispering slut when they thought I couldn’t hear. Drinking or getting high was no big deal, but sex…22

Sometimes I would feel dirty and unclean, tainted, I called myself, I would get on my knees in my room and pray. I didn’t believe in God, I’m an Atheist, and I’ve never thought another way. All I said when I prayed was, Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. After hours of repeating this mantra, I felt cleaner.23

The day of my birthday my mom informed me that her and my father were getting divorced. I had expected this, but my world was tearing apart. No one told me happy birthday that year.24

Summer came quick. Days had blurred and I couldn’t tell you January from May, but I knew when June hit. I went back to the abandoned house and helped clean again. I was getting accepted and befriended finally, people remembered my name this year and here I wasn’t called a slut. I was the same as everyone else.25

The first night I don’t remember, and the days stayed blurry. But there, I was happy, so the lost days never mattered. After a few weeks of summer, I ran into Derek. He told me it was his birthday, but I already knew, I had remembered. He gave me a blue pill, something I’ve never seen before. I was obedient and took it. It cause some of the most blissful things…I loved everyone and everything. He led me upstairs, I followed. For the first time I felt the caress of an orgasm.26

During the next couple weeks, I experimented with more drugs; whatever I could get a hold of, trade my body for. Billy hooked me up the most, until I met Taylor, a girl that I saw at my school the year before. She taught me how to please myself and that every girl really is part bi-sexual. Through Taylor I met Alex, then Jason, Justin, Kevin, and the rest of the names seem to blur together.27

A week before school started the cops decided to bust up the party. Of course it had happened before, but this time there were guns and people were arrested. I was upstairs with one of my dealers, messed up on coke. The cops came upstairs and found me lying on the bed naked, a little fifteen year old with needle holes in the inside of my elbows and cuts on my wrists. I don’t remember where my dealer ran off to, but he was long gone. They didn’t want to handcuff my wrists and I agreed to follow them. I went with them to the station where they asked about my family and that night. Are you lonely? Are your parents around much? Is this the first time doing drugs? Have you ever wanted to kill yourself? Are you pregnant?28

I answered no to all. I didn’t want their help. They had me sleep in a cell to wear off the coke and called my mom. When she picked me up she yelled and yelled at me telling me things I already know. I’m stupid, I’m a disappointment, etc. I tuned her out by watching the trees pass outside. I tried to figure out if I sold my body at $100 a night, how long would it take to earn the money to get emancipated, so I wouldn’t have to owe my mom.29

She told me I was grounded when we pulled up to our suburban house—my mom who has never believed in grounding—grounded until I got better.30

And now, two months later, the night of my birthday, I’m still not better. About a month ago I found out I was pregnant. My mom doesn’t know yet. I didn’t know why the birth control hadn’t worked, but I’m just that lucky. I know who the father is, though. Derek. He was that dealer with me that night. I guess its fate, for him to be its father. I don’t know where he lives or how to contact him now that summer is over. I carved him name into my arm, praying for him to come back, repeating my mantra while I made each slice.31

The baby was making me gain a few pounds. I’m a junior and I want to finish high school, and if I have this baby, I can’t. I can’t afford an abortion and I don’t want to face the monsters.32

I ran into Billy last week. He didn’t hesitate.33

Once, I read in a book that taking a syringe full of nothing but air, and injecting that needle into you, kills you instantly. It sounds peaceful—a peaceful way to live in summer forever.34