E. Montes - Perfectly Damaged

Music blasts in my ear the moment we step foot into the sorority house. I wrinkle my nose at the smell of piss beer and hard liquor floating through the air. Most of the ditzy girls are already drunk and stumbling around, throwing themselves at the first guy who walks by them. Brooke lets out a loud squeal, making me jump. She runs over to a guy who’s dressed in skinny jeans the color of Pepto-Bismol, a fitted white T showcasing his lean figure, and—the only boyish piece of clothing on him—white slip-on sneakers. Brooke pulls him into a tight hug.

“T, this is my sister, Jenna. Jenna, this is T.”

“Brooke has told me so much about you, honey.” He smiles broadly at me and waves a large hand my way. “It’s nice to finally put a face to a name.”

I nod, raising both brows. Brooke’s never mentioned him to me, but I don’t say that to him. “Hi,” I say.

“Well,” Brooke says excitedly. “Let’s party, shall we?” She wraps a hand through the crook of T’s arm.

T searches around the room, narrowing his eyes as he takes in the scene before us. “Which men will be our victims tonight?” he purrs.

Brooke tosses her head back in laughter. I smile because I haven’t seen her this happy in a long time. She looks over her shoulder, her smile expanding when she sees mine. She winks playfully and shimmies as she says, “Come on, Jenna. Let’s dance.”

Over the next few hours, I’m a wallflower as I watch Brooke and T dance the night away. They’ve had their fair share of shots of tequila and beer chugging. I’m sipping on my second can of Sprite when Brooke stumbles into me. “Jenna, you’re no fun…” she slurs and wiggles a finger at the tip of my nose. “You need to live a little.”

I place my Sprite down on a table beside me and grab Brooke by the elbows to balance her. “All right, I think you’ve had enough. Shall we go back to the dorm?”

“What? No. I’m having a blast!” She quickly twirls, but sways side-to-side as she tries to stop. “Whoa. That made me light-headed.”

“Yep. We should go. Where’s T?” I ask, looking around.

“He found a hottie to make out with. He’s such a whore.” She giggles as she squints her eyes to search for him. “There he is!” She points to the middle of the dance floor. If it weren’t for his pink pants, I would’ve missed him since his face is currently being smothered by another dude’s. I shake my head.

“Well, I can’t drive, so how are we getting back to your dorm?”

“Walking. Duh.”

“Walking?”

“Yes, Jenna. It’s not a long drive…” She hiccups.

“Exactly, drive. How long is the walk?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, we can do that.”

Fifteen minutes have come and gone and still no sign that we’re near the dorm rooms. At this point I’m irritated. Brooke is singing along to God knows what as I sit her down on a bench in front of a graveyard. It’s dark out and beginning to drizzle. I let out a frustrating sigh as I look around. The last thing I need is to get caught in the rain with my drunken sister.

“Jenna, we should make a musical!”

“Not now, Brooke.”

Lively laughter echoes from behind me. I twirl around, my heart panicking as I hear noises coming from the graveyard—like boots crunching against fallen leaves or branches. The laughter grows and I hear muffled talking. It sounds like several voices, but I can’t make out how many. “Brooke, come on. Let’s keep moving,” I say anxiously.

I pull at her arm, my eyes and ears alert to whatever may be beyond the cemetery fence.

“My feet hurt,” she whines.

“I know they do, just come on—”

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” a low male voice asks amid chuckles.

I look toward the voice. Three men step out of the graveyard and onto the sidewalk beside the bench where Brooke and I are.

“Looks like we have a drunk one on our hands,” another one says, his cadence hinting at a southern accent. He takes a long pull of a joint. Then he steps forward, extending his arm and the butt toward me. “Want a drag, little miss?” he offers.

I shake my head. My heart lurches as I take in all three men. The first one that spoke looks to be the youngest with blonde hair and honey-brown eyes. They might be attractive if they weren’t so bloodshot, I’m sure from whatever drugs he enjoyed throughout the night. The second one, the one who offered me a smoke, looks like he might be the oldest. He has long, dark hair, dark eyes, and a poorly trimmed, long goatee. He stumbles a bit, which only proves he’s just as stoned as his buddy. The third one, who hasn’t uttered a word, stands farther behind them. His brown eyes seem gentle, as if he’s silently apologizing to me.

Because of him, I ask, “Do any of you know where the university is by chance?”

“Do I look like I’m from here?” The southerner chuckles again.

The gentle-eyed man steps forward. “It’s on the other side of the graveyard. Once you pass the gates, you’ll see the entrance for the university.”

“Thank you,” I say emphatically.

Gathering Brooke, I lift her up and sling her arm over my shoulder. Side-by-side we step into the graveyard. It’s dark and hard to see, but thankfully the moon is full and bright, which gives me enough light to find my way through. I continue down a pathway intended for cars to drive on instead of walking on the grass where the tombstones are.

Brooke and I pick up the pace when the drizzles turn into rain. Our clothes are beginning to soak through, and my feet squeak into my flats. I hear heavy footsteps behind us, so I stop and turn around. The three guys are running our way, yelling out for us—something about how we forgot something. The one with gentle eyes is waving a purse in the air as he jogs our way. I search over Brooke’s body and, sure enough, she left her bag behind.

“You forgot this.” He extends the purse.

“Thanks.” I reach for it, but he pulls back. I look up at him, my chest clenching in fear.

“My friends and I were wondering if you girls were willing to have a little fun.” The other two step forward, one on each side of gentle eyes.

“I’m just trying to get my sister home.” I swipe away the soaked strands of hair plastered to the side of my face. With my other hand, I grip Brooke tightly and pull her behind me, shielding her from them.

The gentleness in his eyes instantly fades, replaced with something akin to hatred. Terror shivers up my spine. From the look in his eyes, I know we’re in trouble. I step back, forcing Brooke to step back as well.

“I think you misunderstood,” he says while his sidekicks quickly come over and grab Brooke.

“Let her go!” I go after them, but not-so-gentle eyes quickly yanks me to him. He pulls my back against his chest, sealing his arms around my shoulders and stomach, effectively locking my arms to my sides.

“We’re going to have fun first,” he insists, his lips touching the curve of my ear. I squirm beneath his hold.

“Let me go!” I struggle beneath him.

“No!” Brooke yells. I look over in the direction of her voice. The two men have her pinned down, her face against the mud. Tears burn my eyes.

“Stop it! Don’t hurt her! Please!” I try to fight. I kick. I scream. But I’m not strong enough.