CASY

Monday. Fucking Monday.

I throw the bedsheets on the floor and leave my naked body uncovered. I rub my eyes and get out of bed, tired, since I just got four hours of sleep last night. I've been sleeping so badly lately that I can't even remember when was the last night I got eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.

I put on a robe and go to the bathroom, limping. I get in, close the door and when I look in the mirror I don't recognize myself. Literally, the girl I'm looking at is not me... This girl has pale, dry lips, dark circles under her eyes, colorless cheeks and... her eyes seem to have lost their shine—they are lifeless, just like me.

I comb my hair with a brush making soft movements, while I try to repress the tears that threaten to come out of my eyes. I haven't stopped crying for months. Every day I feel my eyes sore from the salty tears and my throat closing up from the anguish that invades my body. I feel my head ache and throb after shedding tears. Every day is a battle, a fucking battle I can never win.

The first tear slips down my cheek and I quickly wipe it away. I leave the brush on a white piece of furniture next to the bathtub and take off my robe, letting it fall to the floor. The bruises on my body become visible and it only takes a few seconds for my crying to intensify and endless tears to fall from my eyes. I drop down to the floor, kneel, lean forward and cover my face with my hands, as the crying gets louder and the sound of my sobs fills every corner of the small bathroom.

The pain invades me, consumes me and destroys me. The pain he causes me is intense. The way he treats my body is inhuman and the way his eyes look at me with lust and evil scares me. His hands touching my body makes me want to throw up and the way his cock and his rough movements destroy my delicate sex, hurts. It hurts a lot. He's a fucking animal, that's what he is.

The damage he's doing to me as the days go by is indescribable. No one who has not been through my situation would understand what I feel, as the agony and mental damage one feels after being abused is unknown to many, but for others, unfortunately, it's a familiar feeling that will never go away and will always be part of us.

I get up from the floor, as my crotch starts to ache, and grab the ointment that I must apply at least once a day to cure the irritation of my vulva. At least that's what I've been told at the pharmacy.

The other times when... he, well, he did that to me, I just endured the pain. I didn't try to heal the wounds and improve the appearance of the bruises—I just hid them with foundation and concealer and let the wounds heal on their own. However, now the pain is very bad and barely lets me walk, which is why on Saturday afternoon I force myself to go to the pharmacy to buy this ointment and Arnica gel.

I open the lid of the bottle and start applying the ointment on my labia minora and majora, making small circles, gently. As I do this, I wince, grit my teeth and reflexively close my eyes. It hurts so much that I can barely apply balm.

I finish applying the ointment and then go on with Arnica gel. I apply to every area where I have purple, green, or yellow bruises. This, like my previous action, causes me a lot of pain, but there is nothing I can do anymore. I can't go around complaining and crying all day because this is partly my fault. I brought this on myself.

Once I apply the gel, I stare at the mirror again. I rest a hand on it, touching my reflected face and more tears fall from my eyes. I remember when those green eyes were full of life and when I was so happy that I radiated light, attracting people around me. I remember when my heart was full and happy, when I felt butterflies in my stomach daily and when a smile flickered across my face every day... Now, that Casy is just a memory. She's just a person I lived with for a while and until Friday I didn't know if I would see her again, but on Saturday... when... Hannah and I... kissed, I saw her. I saw that Casy, and she was happy for me. However, as usual, I ruined everything. Rather, Hannah ruined everything.

What did she have to meddle in my life? She's never seen a bruise? And besides, what does she know if it was... you-know-who, who caused those marks? She doesn't know anything! Okay, yeah, that sounds pretty stupid. Of course she was going to be surprised to see me like that and of course she was going to know who the author of those marks was... and that's why I left. She knows too much and that's my fault. I shouldn't have let her into my life, but... it's too late for that, and every time I see her I feel like she's already a part of my story.

Since I left the hotel all I did was recreate our kiss and her confession in my head. My mind still could not understand what had happened, or did not want to understand it.

Saturday and Sunday were days of mixed emotions. On the one hand I was happy—what do I say? I was elated!—that Hannah had confessed her love to me. I spent so many days doubting and wondering if what I felt was crazy or if Hannah felt the same way I did... that when I heard those words come out of her mouth, they were like music to my ears. In the end, my love was reciprocated and that... is priceless.

Then there was... the kiss. The truth is, I had never kissed a girl before, and from the way Hannah was surprised when my mouth attached to hers, I suspect she hasn't either. I don't even know if she ever kissed a boy, so that may have been her first kiss.

That kiss was so... unforgettable. It was intense, soft, sweet, full of love... It had all the ingredients to create a good kiss, a perfect kiss. Her mouth felt unfamiliar and warm on mine and her touch gentle and soft on my skin. At first I surprised myself for taking the initiative. I had spent so long denying this feeling that I never thought I would be the one to make the first move. But as soon as I heard the words 'in spite of everything I fell in love with you', I couldn't take it anymore. I was even willing to have sex with her in that very bed. I didn't have much idea how sex between two girls worked, but I did know that I wanted to feel her naked body on top of mine, and touch every part of her skin. However, as soon as she got up from bed, terrified at the marks on my body, the magic of the moment died out and the sensation I felt in my chest vanished, bringing me back to reality.

At that moment realization hit me—she's not really in love with the real Casy. She doesn't feel love for the Casy who has alcohol problems, who suffers from insomnia at night because of the dark thoughts that haunt every corner of her brain, nor for the Casy who has a complicated past. She doesn't love the Casy who's raped and abused by a fucking pervert. She doesn't love the Casy who would give anything to belong to the popular group at school, as sick as that sounds. She doesn't love that Casy. She doesn't love me. She loves the Casy she met in the first days of school. The Casy who was sweet, kind and funny. That Casy who included her in her group of friends without realizing what she was doing. She loves that Casy, who seemed to have no secrets and be the most sincere person in the world, but... unfortunately that Casy doesn't exist. She was just a person I tried to make up so... I could have at least one real friend. Hannah was supposed to be my friend because she didn't know anything about my shitty life, and that was the perfect opportunity. It's amazing that both she and I wanted to be friends, but now... maybe we're more than that. Or maybe we're nothing.

Anyway, as soon as I saw her reaction and the judgment in her eyes, I knew she would never accept that part of me, any part of me. I knew she would never accept the Casy who obeys her master every Friday and any other day of the week that he wants to mistreat me. I knew she would never fall in love with the real Casy because no one would. No one wants to be with me because no one wants to be with a broken and destroyed person like me. No one wants to mend a heart because it takes time. No one wants to heal wounds and love someone who has nothing to give.

So I decided to walk away and tell her all those hurtful things. I didn't want to answer her questions—and, fuck, does that girl ask questions, huh?—, I didn't have the energy for that. So the best thing to do was to go back to repressing my own feelings and rejecting her love because I knew that would hurt her. I knew it would pierce her heart, and that was the reason I did it. I'm not proud of that, but at least that will—I hope—make her stay away from me. I just trust that that worked and that she won't come near me at school today. However, to make sure that doesn't happen, I have a trick up my sleeve. The last card in the deck. Yeah, it's risky, frivolous, even callous, but it's something I have to do. It's the only thing I can think of that might make Hannah walk away and forget about me for good. It's the only thing that can protect her from me and my miserable life.

So, using my last card, I grab my cell phone and tweet something that I know will call the whole school's attention. I'm certain that in minutes everyone will be talking about this.

I shove my phone in my pocket, grab my purse and walk out of my house, trying not to let the guilt consume me inside, but it's impossible. What I did is lousy and I know that in the end... I'm going to regret it.