Slowly, my limbs began to obey, albeit, reluctantly. What just happened? I knew, but it was so ugly, soul-blackened, and wrong that I did my damnedest to block it out.
I didn’t wear a watch, but the sun was peeking through the clouds. The sliver between the rotting planks that fashioned this place of ugliness gave me a peek at the sun’s position in the sky. Growing up on a commune where time isn’t a huge priority, one learns tricks like what time it is according to the distance between the sun and horizon.
Just 45 minutes ago, I was whole. I had my flaws – unshaven legs, shyness, second-hand clothes and all… but I was still Indira. A part of me was still new to the world. That was no more.
I was now this… this… this thing. This dirty, broken thing lying naked with a combination of semen and my virginal blood smeared between my legs, now…
School had already begun. I’ll bet my name had already been noted as absent. It didn’t matter anymore. That Indira was absent. She died in the dirt underneath someone who thought I was his for the taking. It didn’t matter that I had my own thoughts or people that love me or that I’d never been with a man and was waiting for love. That was gone. She was dead and gone.
I got to my hands and knees. The pain felt as if someone had taken and knife and sliced me between my legs and left ooze in it’s wake. I managed to roll over into a sitting position pulling my knees to my chest and buried my face into the arms wrapped around my knees. It didn’t matter that I was in the middle of nowhere and naked. Nothing mattered other than making myself as small and invisible as possible.
If I could just disappear…
If I could just say that it never happened…
If I had taken my parents’ advice and stuck with homeschooling…
I reached for my torn, useless panties and began to gently wipe the mess between my legs away. The panties would go in the burn barrel as soon as I made it home.
I made another decision once I felt less slimy. I was going to put this humiliation in an imaginary mason jar in my head, heat the seal, screw it tight, and shove it down deep within the storm cellar where I’d never see it again.
My bra was destroyed, too. That really didn’t matter at home. Most of the women didn’t wear bras. In fact, many poked fun at me for conforming. There’s something about not having a bra to take off when disrobing for gym with 50 other girls that makes the taunting at home have very little impact.
My jeans and shirt were still intact, but I was bleeding and leaking seminal fluid – disgusting. The barn revealed a solution to me… there was hay. I could wrap a small bunch of hay with my now ruined bra. It would serve to hide the evidence of my shame.
The little bundle wasn’t too scratchy after I strategically wrapped the absorbent straw and placed it between my legs. I slid my legs through the bra straps and cinched them as tight as I could to get them to cling to my legs. The makeshift bundle needed to stay in place for the 3.5 mile walk back to the commune.
There were going to be a lot of questions when I got back. I wasn’t even sure I was capable of talking. It was if I took the chance of opening my mouth… I could possibly tell what happened, and everyone would know.
Everyone would see me differently. Some would pity me. Some would wonder if I was lying. Some would want to retaliate, but the majority would want to get medical attention for me which I was in dire need of. I feared that I was leaking urine as well.
The entire vaginal, urethra, and anus were torn and bleeding. The pain drew my thoughts to a tribe of Native Americans whose warriors would hang from ropes sewn into their pectorals. When the flesh finally ripped, they were full-fledged warriors with wounds that would heal and scar symbolizing their demonstration of brute strength through this ordeal.
What would I have?
A bad decision. I made the decision to get into his car. It was my fault, and no one must ever know.