Somewhere within all the deceptions, somewhere so far back, I couldn't pinpoint it, I had lost myself. I was no longer that girl who'd been stripped naked and poisoned in a strange bed. I was another girl entirely, one with power, who could make anyone do what she wanted. And like some kind of ghastly avenging angel, I'd sought recompense for what had been done to me. I took control of boys the way he'd taken control of me. I made them powerless. But I couldn't have done any of that.
It was someone else, some temptress hiding in my mind. I was Lia, Lia who loved only music, Lia who was quiet and shy and virginal, Lia who had always felt awkward and gawky. She was Lia, Lia who was desirable and seductive, Lia who loved nothing, Lia who had the courage to take whatever she needed, by any means necessary.
She would surface when it was inconvenient, and abandon me when I needed her wits and savvy most, without fail.
When Zack Richardson showed up at our concert, I knew exactly what would happen, and somehow I didn't even care. I could tell by the way his eyes flicked over my body, never once looking me in the eyes. I could tell by the way he said "You look nice," as if the compliment were a coin put in a machine that dispensed sex. I could tell by how he winked at my managers, and grabbed me by one arm as if I couldn't stand for myself, and towed me past the rest of the band. I waved wanly at August and Gale and Sawyer as I followed the insistent pull all the way back to his car. He drove, fast to shake off the paparazzi, and I shook my head to clear it.
Again, as was always my lamentable cry, what was I doing? I was going off, God-knows-where, with a boy three years older than me, who I didn't even like. Why, why did I listen to them? Was I so unoriginal that I couldn't think what to do with myself, beyond what they told me? Would that be it, all my life, acting out a play, with the lines set out ahead of time?
Act 2, Scene 2. Alone in a car, except for a lascivious, handsome boy with a little alcohol on his breath.
Zack Richardson parked the car. I didn't know where we were, I didn't know the city. But I hoped both that everyone would find us and that no one would find us. I was afraid, and I was confident. I knew my lines. Even sitting there, even before he turned his beautiful, glorious profile towards me in the gloom, I could think of several ways out, easily. I was surprised to learn I didn't know whether to use them or not.
He kissed me, and in the darkness, I sensed everything like it mattered. Did it matter that I could taste the beers on his tongue, in his mouth? Did it matter that I could feel his hands on me, that they were rough and foreign? Did it matter, did any of it matter?
No, she said, the siren inside me. No. Live, be. Don't think about it.
Who would care, who would notice, right here and right now, if boundaries were crossed? Who would care if he climbed from the comfortable platonic driver's seat and into my side? Or worse, if he opened the door to the backseat?
My heart did not accelerate. There was no rush to get away. I convinced myself that this was fine, that it was normal to not care for someone and kiss them. Ever since what had happened, I had known better than to think sex and love were intertwined.
I didn't help him. His drunken fingers fumbled with my clothes, getting them half askew, but not off. He didn't seem to care about the fact that his clothes were still on, and I felt a powerful wave of disgust rise up inside of me.
What was wrong with me, lying in the passenger seat with this pig on top of me? Did I want this? Did I want to wake up and face myself in the morning, when a border had been crossed, and with this drunk piece of shit?
I balked at the thought.
"Get off me," I muttered.
He smothered me with his weight again, in the cold foggy darkness.
"Ugh," I groaned, and I squirmed and writhed out from under him, fastening my clothes. He tried to force me back under him, but as he was drunk and I was not, I could manage to dodge. I slammed the door and stomped away from the car, only to realize I had no idea where I was.
It was the fog-strewn end of a cul-de-sac. It didn't even look vaguely familiar, and judging by how very unsavory his intentions were, I was sure it was very far out of the way. Cursing womanizing Zack Richardson, I hitched my coat tighter and started walking. The fog made me damp and cold, but I was not about to walk back. It was late at night, and he was probably passed out already.
I cried the whole way, fat, hot tears that melted my frozen face. There was something wrong with me. Didn't I value myself more than that? Would I sink to a level like that, sleep with some drunk pig just because he was there and I was desperate?
I already had my answer. I would have done it. I wanted to feel normal again, to be with someone closer to my age, to actually have something happen to me when I wanted it and how I wanted it. But I had listened to what I wanted this time, and acted on that, and so maybe there was hope for me yet. Although not so much when it came to directions. The city was huge, and I was hopelessly lost.
I yanked out my cell phone and scrolled through my phonebook. My friends back home were no good, Jay, yeah right, but what about the rest of the band? Gale, probably asleep, August... probably. I was just about to dial him when I spotted the number below.
Sawyer.
Sawyer would come. He would do it. That girl with my face, the one who was not me, the siren born from the rape, she had teased and seduced and tormented him enough that he would do anything for her.
I called, and he answered on the third ring. "Hello?"
"Hey, Sawyer, it's Lia."
"Lia... where are you?"
"Um." I glanced up to the street sign and read it off to him.
"When are you coming back?"
"I have no clue."
"Want me to come and get you?"
"Yeah," I said pathetically, and I started crying again. Furious with myself, I held my breath to repress my sobs.
"Lia, what happened?"
"Nothing," I gasped
"Did he hurt you?" Sawyer snapped, with an edge to his voice.
"No," I murmured. "No, it's not him, it's me. I'm going crazy."
