Category : Books-Fiction

Sub Category : Romance

           My best, but crazy, dramatic friend, Jessica had also gotten into the school of our dreams. Our parents went there, too, as well as a few cousins so we were proud to call ourselves Longhorns and keep up with a family tradition. 
           We both received swimming scholarships. We had beaten our high school's records in backstroke, freestyle, and breaststroke. We went back and forth beating each other's times. It was just fun and games for us. But together, we also dominated. I was faster though. However, she will tell you different. That's what we had a fight over, but we settled our beef when we both had watched Michael Phelps take gold in almost everything during the 2008 Beijing Olympic Games. 
           I couldn't tell you why Jess loved swimming so much, but I can tell you why I do. It's all I feel I have left of my sister, who was a great swimmer. I like to pretend in that dream I had of her fourteen years ago, when she had whispered into my ear, she had given me her talent. But she had only been eight, not a state champion swimmer; well, maybe she would have been. 
           She is gone, though. 
           I believe she is with me in spirit every time I swim. Pushing me and guiding me towards each goal. She will always be with me. 
           Always. 

          After class I went to swim some laps in the campus pool. While I swim for fun, it's my time of no worries. Under the water, it is a different world. A world where nothing matters. It’s how I got over my ex-boyfriend, Nick, who used to love watching me swim. He wouldn't ever swim with me though. He’d sit in the stands and watch me glide my body through the cool blue water. A jet sailing through liquid sky. 
           “Why won’t you come in? The water’s fine,” I’d ask. 
           "Nah, I just love watching you, babe."
         I believed him the entire year-and-a-half we dated, until he stopped coming to watch. That was when I had an inkling of suspicion something was wrong. And if he did ‘watch’ me swim, he would always be on his phone. 
           “I’m just playing a game babe,”he would say. Until I looked on his phone while he was busy and saw he had no games. It wasn't but a month after that, I caught him cheating on me with a girl Jessica knew, at a house party. I saw his pale, bare-ass hovering over some blonde skank who saw me open the door but didn’t stop. I saw the side of his face, eyes closed, mouth open in a silent moan, his dark brown hair that brought out the freckles on his chiseled shoulders. I thought, how did I manage to get a guy like that? And then, how did I manage to lose a guy like that? I blamed myself. I couldn’t stand to look at him though. Every time I did, I saw her face, staring back at me with a slight smirk. Each time I thought about it, the smirk would grow bigger and bigger until she was smiling at me. I know who you are and I know what I’m doing. He’s inside me right now! 
          After that it was over. 
          I had adored him, so when that ugly thought came around, my heart imploded like a dying star. People always talk about their hearts being broken. I now believe them because it did physically hurt. I could feel it right in my chest. It had really shaken me up, so I told myself I'd never date ever again. 
          That had been a year ago though. I still stick by my hatred of dating. What's the point when I'm eventually just going to be hurt. However, I did miss the beginning, when he was nice and would lay down on my bed with me in his muscular embrace. I loved when his soft voice would whisper, I love you, in my ear. I could feel the warm waft of air dancing around the inside of my ear which would tickle. I missed when he'd barely touch me, slowly moving his fingers up and down my shoulders and arms. And his soft, teasing kisses on my neck which came with an occasional, pleasant bite. I loved the bite. But then, it all went to shit. 
          In the pool, I swam for not even twenty minutes and it was already dark out. I had gone underwater in the light and came up in darkness. Everyone in the pool was gone, too. I hated being in the water by myself. Alone. Vulnerable. And out of the pool, shaking, but I told myself it was from the cold air against my heated body. 
           In the locker room, I didn't bother taking off my one-piece bathing suit —it dried quickly. I combed my hair just enough so it wasn't a tangled mess and threw on a pair of dark blue jeans and a black Led Zeppelin shirt I used to wear daily in high school. Growing up, that's all my dad would play in the car. The classics—Rolling Stones, Zeppelin, The Who, Clapton, you know. I loved the days when he'd take me into town to run errands. We would jam out and then he would always stop at my favorite store so I could buy a record. 
           Records are so much better than the cheap CDs where they cut off the sounds that the human ear can't hear. But records don't have anything cut so you have all sounds and can actually 'feel' the song when you listen. I have a beautiful, antique record player my dad had given me. It was his when he was a kid and I still love it. It was the first thing I had packed for college. But then I had to unpack it because I needed some music to listen to while I packed. 
           Walking home, it was dark out and I was trying to find my apartment. Since I had technically lived in Austin already, they allowed Jess and I to have an apartment instead of a dorm. It did also help that my entire family were alumni and maybe had some strings pulled.
           I knew it was west from the pool past "the drag," a strip with a bunch of cool, retro stores and restaurants. I had been walking for a while now, though I wasn't sure if it was the right direction. 
            The clouds dominated the night sky obscuring every star that would give me just a hint of light. The only light I had were the dying street lamps glowing an eerie orange. 
            I walked past all the shops and found myself overwhelmed by the smell of urine and garbage. It was strong as if someone had just peed before I had gotten there. So I turned around. 
           There, in the distance I saw San Antonio street hidden behind some buildings. A strange street to be behind shops. But I knew I had to take San Antonio to get there, so off I went. 
           Graffiti of all kinds covered the walls. I even passed by a few taggers painting the back of a wall, who freaked out when they first saw me but then realized I was just a young woman and not a cop, so they went back at it. I could hear the chicka -chicka the cans made when they shook them off in the distance then shpoooooosh when they sprayed. I liked to smell the fumes of the paint. It reminded me of when my mom had repainted my room as a birthday present when I turned twelve. I thought to myself, that's something I would love to get into. Though not the illegal painting. Maybe a personal work of art or a mural of some kind—
           WHAM!
            Just then, what felt like a bus or truck smashed into me. 
            I was tackled to the ground, landing on a bunch of used trash bags. 
            "What the—?!" I exclaimed. 
            Then I was forced around on my back while a dirty, sweaty hand covered my mouth. It smelled like cigarettes, liquor, and urine. I tried to bite but I couldn't bite his palm. I gagged twice then looked into the eyes of who it was, with a tiny glint of hope that maybe this was just a joke. 
           "Shhhhhhh..." the voice said. "Stop your moving." 
           I wiggled more fiercely. 
           "This will only take a minute," he said, breathing hard. 
           I could hear my shirt being ripped. 
           I was trying to move every body part I had to get free of this fat mass on top of me. It was like being covered by a heavy blanket dipped in alcohol, piss, and sweat. 
          It was a man. An old man. 
          I could see his black eyes staring at me like I was his dinner. 
          This is not happening! This is not happening!
          "Mmmmmmph!" I tried screaming, but to no avail. 
          After using all my might, I finally got my left arm free and started hitting his face and head. 
          He let out a yelp when I hit his ear. 
          "You. Little. Bitch." He snarled. 
          I started to feel what felt like rocks hitting my head—one after another. 
           Until,.... 
                     
           Blackness. 

           I couldn't see anything. Just blackness. A silhouette walked towards me. I couldn't make out any features. Where was I? Then a voice...
           "Wake up. Wake up. He's here. You're safe." The voice belonged to a child. Nah, it couldn't be my—
           I came to and opened my eyes. 
           I was staring up at the glittering blackness. The stars had come out. Was I dreaming? Was I dead?
           I heard manic shuffling around me as well as grunts that sounded of an old man. I tilted my head up so I could see. There was indeed an old man but there was someone else who was punching and beating the old guy. I saw drops of blood splatter in the air. I hated blood. It made me feel sick. Even sicker than when the guy had tackled me. 
          "Stopppp!" I yelled with eyes closed. 
          Then silence. I gently opened my eyes. It was a young man dressed in all-black baggy clothes holding the old man by his collar and holding a fist in the air with his other. 
          When I yelled, he stopped, turned and looked at me. We both locked eyes. He then let go of the guy, giving a thud when the body hit the ground. 
           "Are you okay?"
           His voice was raspy. He looked about the same age as me, but manly—hardened and experienced. His voice sounded too old to be of a guy his age. He was covered in dirt and sweat. I could smell b.o., too. 
           "Umm... yeah I think so." I replied in a mousy voice. 
           God, I sounded so pathetic. 
         "Good. Get home. Now." He instructed but with some sincerity I could hear, in his Kurt Cobain voice. Then he turned and started to walk away. 
         "But Hey! Wait!" My voice almost cracked. 
         He sped up his pace then disappeared around a corner. I got up off the sticky ground and raced over to the corner he went around. 
          He was gone. 
          I sat down for a minute to process what had just happened. Should I go to the hospital? Should I call the police? And there, just a few apartments down,
          I could see my place.