Used Garbage

My head is pounding, I thought as I was just waking. I could hear the ocean and figured I must have left the window open. I tried to roll, but my body felt so heavy lifting my arm for the covers was too much to accomplish. This bed is the worst; it's lumpy and not soft at all. As I manage to halfway open my eyes, I realize it must be early. It's still dark out. I must have drank way more than I remember. Top it all off, and there is sand all in the bed.

I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep until the hangover went away. Of course, I have to use the bathroom. This brings an unfamiliar sensation to me. I had a stinging pain in my backside. I take a deep breath and manage to open my eyes, and it finally hits me like a ton of bricks that I am not in my room. I am on the beach. again I try and roll over to sit up, but my body is not listening

I had been so drunk that I didn't remember what had happened the night before, but this was different. My brain felt like it was struggling in quicksand. I feel another sharp and intense pain from my backside. I finally lift my arm enough to reach my butt, now noticing my shorts were not on, and I can feel something wet and sticky. I looked at my hand to find the blood. A wave of panic rushed over me as I tried to comprehend what had happened to me.

I can see lights dancing in the distance. More fear and panic come flooding as I hear the people talking. I struggle to sit up and pull my shorts up. I didn't know what to do as they got slower. I wanted to scream for help, but the fear in my head said, what if they were part of it. Then the shame and embarrassment took grip, and I mustered the energy to stand up. I start walking toward the condos behind me. I staggered, trying to keep myself upright. Once I make it to the road, I scramble to find a familiar landmark. I soon realize I am near my hotel, and I start walking. Every step I take reminds me of the pain I am feeling.

After what felt like an hour of walking through waist-deep mud, I make it to my room. I collapsed inside the door. I have a strong urge to scrub myself in a tub of bleach to get this disgusting feeling off of me, but the exhaustion overtakes me. Flashes of the night come to me as I am in a half-dream-like state. I remember finding someone to buy me vodka, and before I could bring their face into focus, the haze took me a few hours later. I am sitting on the beach eating a burger, wondering if she will show. I remember now, earlier in the day, I met a girl who was from Ohio, I think. I was going to meet her and some others and hang out. I was near Springmaid Pier when I was eating my burger. That's where I was going to meet her.

Again my memories skip a track, and I'm further up the beach walking. I was bummed out when the girl never showed. I find a spot to chill as I watch people walking on the beach.

I wake up on the floor of my motel room, and the sun is cutting through the crack of the curtains and slapping me in the face. I stand up still, a little woozy but better. My mind, however, is still fighting to free itself from the quicksand. As I take off my clothes, I see myself in the mirror, and the shame floods me once more. The pain is still there, and I know I should check, but I can't. No, I can't; that will just cement this into reality. I feel disgust run over me, followed by a wave of nausea. I barely make it to the toilet.

I turn the water on hot as I can take it, and as I feel the water run down my back, I let out a scream from the sting the water causes. I look down to see the light red-tinted water run down the drain

I crawl into my bed and take a deep breath as the emotions catch up to me. I think to myself, why did I come here. I just wanted to go home to my own bed. I can feel the warm tears running down my cheek as I drift back to sleep.

It's been twenty-five years since it happened to me and the memories never returned. I often wonder if someone had drugged me, was it self-induced from drinking too much, or was my mind trying to spare me the painful memories of a horrible experience.