I like to think I'm a nice person. I try to be that quiet-but-helpful girl people at least notice. But even after two years, I'm still basically "That Quiet Asian Girl Who Opens Doors for People". Oh crap, I didn't even introduce myself to you, and I'm already blathering about how crappy life is. My name is Rumiko Takahashi, and I'm 19 years old. I have light blues eyes and chocolate hair. If you had seen me during the course of the school day, you probably wouldn't know I existed. I'm sort of invisible like that.
Who you WOULD have noticed is my roommate and senior, Annette Crawford. She's one of the most popular people in our college for two reasons; A. She's is unbelievably beautiful, and B. She has not had sex with anyone in her life. Add those together and you get the most sought after prize on campus. She could always be found at a bar or club, always tempting the locals with her voluptuous body. She had 34C breasts and a body like a coke bottle. I, on the other hand, was barely a B cup, and my body was more sprite bottle then coke. I wasn't fat, by any means, but I wasn't exactly supermodel either.
As such, I had grown use to her staying out late, coming home at 3 A.M. and collapsing on our couch, never making it to bed. I would never go out. I was always at home, either studying for my next paper, or playing World Of Warcraft. In fact that was what I did on an unusual evening, when I got a call from Anne. "Hiiiii Rumi!" She was slurring words; she clearly had a lot that night. "Are you coming home soon Anne?" I never hid how worried I got about her. "Soon, Rumi. I met this one guy, and he's sooo cute! I think I might let him drive me home!"
I sighed. "Okay, Anne. Just make sure he didn't drink or anything likes that, okay?"
She giggled. "Of course. Wait, he's calling me over. I gotta go!" She didn't even wait for me to say goodbye.
I didn't think about it too much. Anne was a smart girl, after all. I trusted her to come home late, like she always did. I turned on the T.V. and fell asleep on the couch to an old documentary. When I woke up around 9 the next day, something felt very wrong. For one thing, when I woke up I was still on the couch, curled up under my blanket. If Anne had come home, she would have slept on the couch with me, because she's usually too sloshed to even make it to her bed. Second, I didn't even hear Anne come through the door last night. What if she didn't come home at all?
As if responding to my request, I heard keys jingling in the lock to our door. In ran Anne, tears streaming down her face. I got up, but before I could even ask what was wrong, she threw her arms around me, clenching them around my neck. "Oh my God, Rumi I'm such an idiot!" I had to force her at forearms length away from me so I could look at her. "Calm down, Anne. Start from the beginning." She stared into my eyes, full of despair.
"You remember that guy I told you about? Well, we were talking and he wanted to buy me a drink, so I Iet him. One of my friends said she saw him put something in my drink, but I just called her a jealous bitch and stormed off. I slammed it down, and then everything went black." She was shaking worse than before. "I woke up in his apartment, he was gonna- H-he was g-gonna..." She couldn't bring herself to finish it. "...But he was too much of a wimp. He just slept with me. When he told me I punched him and ran away. But Rumi, what if he did? What if he-?" She broke down and collapsed in my arms again.
I led her to the couch and we sat down. She buried her face in my chest, tears soaking through my nightshirt. I stroked her hair calmly, being as gentle as I could. After a few more minutes of bawling she fell asleep. I stroked her hair for a while longer. I eventually closed my eyes again as well.