[Image Caption: Corinne and Sawyer showing up at Samir's dorm room.]

The moment I wake up on Saturday morning, my conversation with Nick starts running through my head. He needs to leave me alone. I’ve been trying not to think about what happened last weekend, but people keep reminding me. I wish I hadn’t asked around—then there would be no one to check in. I would have remembered it on my own eventually, or not at all.

Nick texted me yesterday and I deleted the message. I haven’t been going to classes. I emailed my homework to my professor and told him I was still sick, which isn’t a complete lie. 

I don’t know what to do. I didn’t think anything like this would ever happen to me and not knowing who did it is making me paranoid. I feel so distrusting of everyone I come into contact with. It’s shameful. The entire night is too shameful to ever talk about. I can’t believe I let something like this happen to me. I completely lost control. I’m an idiot, and probably deserved this. I shouldn’t even be surprised or upset, but I can’t help it and now the thought makes me want to vomit.

I sit up in bed and press my palms into my eyes.  Why didn’t he just ask me instead of doing this? I would have said yes… I always say yes. Everyone who knows me well enough knows that I’ll sleep with anyone. The fact that he didn’t just ask makes me feel like a randomized target, like he didn’t have any idea of who I was. Then again, maybe he wanted to do it without my permission? No, that’s too disgusting to think about.

I didn’t make any plans today. I just want to lie in bed. I wish I could go out and distract myself but I feel too uncomfortable leaving my room even though this is where it happened. I feel like everybody knows, as if there’s this big red stamp on my forehead. I know it’s unlikely, but I can’t help wondering if this sicko is off somewhere bragging about it. I don’t know what kind of person he is. He could be the type to brag… or maybe laugh it off. Maybe he thinks it’s funny. I don’t think it’s funny, though. Thinking too hard about it just makes my chest hurt. Every time my mind begins to drift, little bits and pieces come floating to the surface. 

I hike my blankets up under my chin and close my eyes. Every time I feel a lump start to rise in my throat, I swallow. If I start whining about it now, then I’ll probably never get over it. I just need to get myself together. I’ll go back to class next week. I’ll apologize to the professors for missing so much. I’ll play catch up. It’ll be fine.

I just wish I knew who it was so I could avoid him. I feel so uncomfortable thinking that maybe he’s in one of my classes. I doubt he is, since I mostly have first-year courses, but it’s possible. Maybe he’s been watching me. I wonder if he thinks he got away with it or if he knew I would remember. I wish I could know why. It’d make me feel better—having an explanation—but I don’t know if I would confront him even if I could. I’d probably just shut down completely. 

It would be better if I never remembered. Then I’d just wonder. It’s not like knowing what happened changes a fucking thing anyway. All I gained is the knowledge that someone did this to me, and we all know how campus rape is dealt with. To put it simply: it’s not. It’s not dealt with at all. 

By now, the bruises are well faded. He probably used a condom and even if he didn’t then I’m sure whatever proof was there is gone. Not that I would have gone to the hospital anyway.

At some point, there’s a knock at the door. It startles me and I ignore it, but the knocking persists. It’s probably one of my friends. They all have the capacity to be annoying. “What?” I finally snap. “Who the fuck is it?”

“Corinne!” a voice shouts back.

“I’m sick!”

“Liar! You’re probably better by now. Open the door!” She starts to bang, but it’s locked, so I have to get up. I roll out from under the covers and slowly shuffle towards the door. “Jesus Christ, where the fuck have you been?” she asks when I finally let her in. 

“I told you, I’m sick.”

“Then you need to go to the health center.” She marches past me and sits down at my desk. “If you’ve been sick for this long then you probably have something way worse like mono.”

“So I have mono.”

She knows I’m full of shit. By now, I can read her easily. I think she can read me, too, which makes this all the more stressful. I’ll need to come up with a better lie if I want her to leave me the fuck alone. The last thing I want is for her to bring Sawyer in here for some sort of intervention.

“Be honest,” she says, crossing one leg over the other and letting it bob up and down impatiently.

“I am.”

“Whatever. Take your time spitting out the truth. I’ll wait right here.”

I decide to ignore her, lying back in bed and burrowing under the covers, turning my back to her. She sits there quietly and it makes me uncomfortable.

“What’s up with you lately?” she asks softly after what seems like forever. “Sawyer and I are worried. We know you like your space but you haven’t been yourself. This is excessive.”

I don’t want to talk or think about this right now. I don’t care if I’m being weird. They’re my friends—aren’t they supposed to understand when I just want to be left alone?

“You seem off,” Corinne continues. “Is this about last weekend? You’ve been so weird since then and it’s kind of freaking me out.”

I angrily throw the covers off and get out of bed, grabbing her by her upper arms and forcing her to stand. She looks shocked, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m going to lose it if she keeps prying like this. I force her towards the door, swinging it open and shoving her out. 

“Samir!” She starts yelling, but she doesn’t fight. She could kick my ass easily, and she doesn’t even try. I can tell she’s pissed off, but I don’t have time to deal with this. I close the door and then lock it for good measure.

She bangs on my door a few times, but I don’t care. She can bang all she wants. I’m not going to answer it this time. I sit on my bed, up against my pillow, drawing my legs to my chest and resting my chin on my knees. She’ll be back later. She’ll bring Sawyer and he’ll get really obnoxious. I need to get dressed. I need to try to act normal. I need to go out this weekend. I need to go to school on Monday. I need people to see me. If they see me, they’ll stop asking questions and they’ll know I’m okay.

I get out of bed and go to my dresser. I put on a pair of jeans and a button-up, and then I pull a sweater over my head. I grab my shower caddy off my desk and head to the bathroom, where I brush my hair and wash my face. I use the hottest water possible but I still feel greasy. I pat my face dry with a clean towel and stare into the mirror. I look a little better. Good enough.

Grabbing my things I head back to my room, but when I get there Corinne and Sawyer are standing outside looking irritated.

“I’m fine!” I shout at them, tossing my shit back into my room. My voice sounds shrieky, even to my own ears. I’m probably bright red. I feel it. Then again, it could be from rubbing my face raw over the sink.

Sawyer snorts back a laugh. “If you say so.”

“I say so. I’m just run down and you guys are pissing me off.”

“We’re not idiots, Samir,” Corinne says. “Are you mad at us? If you are we could all sit down and have a discussion about it like fucking adults but instead you’re just locking yourself up in the dorms.”

“Yeah, man, tell us what’s up.”

“Nothing is up, you fucking asshole,” I say pointing to the door, wordlessly telling them to get the hell out. This probably isn’t the reaction I should be having. I’m not doing a good job of convincing them of anything.

“Fine. Sit here and sulk then.” Corinne grabs Sawyer by the arm, dragging him out.

I let out a breath as I watch them leave. I don’t wait even one second before stripping out of my jeans and putting sweats back on. I don’t bother taking off my sweater before crawling back into bed.