(Seraphina)

Summertime seemed like a time where there were endless possibilities. You could get a permit to drive a car, you could get a permit to start working, and you could take control of your life by thinking about college and careers. Many first-year students that I knew during our first year at Telsa STEM High School in Redmond, Washington didn't know what they wanted to do, but they made their decisions in July.

A girl that I did not know invited me to a party two weeks before school started up again. I hesitantly accepted the invitation and had gotten ready. Tying up my blonde hair into a fishtail braid, I applied some pink blush onto my cheekbones and light gray lipstick onto my lips. I used eyeliner around my eyes and made sure that my nails were dry after I had painted them two hours ago.

I chose an outfit that fit my frame well. The girl told me to wear a color that would pop out at night. I decided to wear white. A shirt T-shirt, white jeans, white socks, and a pair of white Nike's. I looked at myself in my full-length mirror. I didn't look too bad, and I took a birth control pill in case some guy wanted to have sex with me.

I walked downstairs from my second-story bedroom, and my mother looked at me out of the corner of her eye. "Going somewhere?" she asks me.

"A girl invited me to a party," I told her quietly, grabbing my phone and charger from my bedroom. I grabbed a coat from the hall closet on my way down. My slim frame was hidden underneath the jacket and it looked like I was a male.

"Be home by midnight," she says as I walk out of the house, locking the door with my house keys. Midnight. She usually sets that curfew for me. Like she cares if I get home. She never cared before. I walk down the front walkway to the girl's car.

She drives a scarlet 2016 Ford Mustang. Pretty cool. I had yet to get my permit. My father doesn't trust me enough on the road. Neither does my mother, now that I think about it.

Describing the girl, she looks pretty standard. Her clothes cover up her breasts and stomach well; she's wearing minimal makeup. Her friends are different: they are wearing a lot of makeup, and their clothes show some bit of skin.

"You ready to party?" one of the girl's friends asks me. I smell alcohol on her breath like she had been drinking before they arrived at my house.

I stayed quiet because I didn't know what to say. The other girl sitting in the front passenger seat smells like she had been drinking as well. The girl that had invited me was perfectly sober. Seeing as how she has to be the driver for when we all have to go home, it makes perfect fucking sense.

"What time do your parents want you home, Blondie?" the driver asks me.

"Midnight," I say, leaving out that they won't care if I got home before or after my curfew anyway. Sinking into the leather seat, I sigh in envy. These girls have so much freedom while my family restricts my choices.

The driver nods, keeping her eyes on the road. "If you want to leave, find me, and we'll go," she says. "If you can't find me, call the police and meet me by the Mustang."

I nod, agreeing to the terms. The driver seemed like the most responsible out of the three girls. Probably has to be with how wasted the other two get. The two other girls laugh like drunken slobs; the driver and I sigh, shaking our heads at them.

When we make it to the party, the driver tells me to stick by her. I follow her orders without question. Pretty soon, we get separated from each other with how insane the party is. I walk outside, trying to get some fresh air. The cigarette smoke is making me cough a bit, and I lean against a tree, drinking a bottle of water.

A boy comes up to me and asks me if I was okay. I didn't know who he was at the time; if I did, I never would have answered his question.

I nodded, full-out lying. I wanted to leave. I felt sick to my stomach, watching these people drink, smoke, and do drugs. He leads me to his car and tells me that he can take me home. I look at the time on my phone: 21:59. Almost ten o'clock. I don't have to arrive at my house for another two hours.

I should have run away from the boy and his car.

He forced me to get into the back seat and kissed me forcefully when I said "no." I tried to push him off of me, but he was much stronger than me. Pretty soon, our clothes were off, and I screamed when he shoved his penis into my vagina. He thrusted into me, me still trying to get him off of me.

It was over in five minutes, but it felt like forever. When my rapist pulled out of me, the boy put his clothes back on and got out of the car. I put my clothes back on and rushed into the house. I tried to find the girl and ended up bumping into her.

She looked at my tear-stained face, the makeup running down my cheeks, my smeared lipstick, my rumpled clothes. I grabbed my coat, and she got her friends, but they wanted to stay. She rolled her eyes, and I called the police outside. She held me close to her as someone on the phone asked me what my emergency was.

The girl took the phone and explained the situation. She told them about the party and how a boy raped me. They said that they were sending the police to the location as soon as possible. We got into the car and drove away before they could question us.

"Do you want to go to the hospital?" she asks me. I shake my head but think about the option a little more deeply. Most women that are raped tell the police, and the cases don't get solved for years. The hospitals get the cases resolved quickly. I nod, and we drive to the hospital.

I get checked out, and the doctor asks me who raped me. I'm still shaking from the entire incident and can't say a word. The girl holds my hand and asks me about the guy's appearance. I write it down on a pad of paper and show it to them.

"Ethan Montgomery," I hear the girl mutter to herself. The doctor inputs this information into the computer and asks me if I was still taking the birth control pills.

I nod, tears running down my face. "Take the girl home. We'll call you if we get more information," the doctor tells us as we leave. The girl tells me that if I needed help, I could call her. I nod because that was all I could do. I unlocked the front door and walked to my bedroom quietly.

Changing as soon as possible and taking a shower, I was hoping to wash away the feeling of Ethan Montgomery taking away my virginity, but it never left. Crawling into bed, I cry myself to sleep. I stay in bed the next day, feeling too disgusted with myself to even try to function correctly.

My parents didn't bother asking me how the party was or if I was okay. They both left for work and never even said "Goodbye." I cried myself to sleep once again.

This feeling still hasn't left me. In two days, I am going to start my sophomore year. The party seems so far away, yet I remember it like it was yesterday. The girl that helped me is now a junior, her being a sophomore last year. I hope that she doesn't tell her friends or anyone else about the party.