Against All Odds Novel – He onece was my best friend,until that night after his party, he became my enemy, the cruelest of them all, and I still don’t know why. The night that ended it all started off great. Everyone was there, and we were all having fun. His father even shocked us when he allowed a few of us to drink after the party wound down. It’s after that my memory goes blank. The next morning, I was in his car and couldn’t remember how I got there. He took me home, a look of disgust on his face the entire drive, and didn’t say a word as I got out of his car. From that day on, I was public enemy number one. The one thing I do remember is the excruciating pain in my groin that next morning. I tried for weeks to talk to him, but he ignored my calls, and his cold-shoulder treatment tormented me. The bullying only got worse the older I got, and now it’s senior year. I’m almost free. I can do it. I will survive. Three days and I’m back in my hellhole of abuse. My own literal inferno on earth.
Sierra Fun, memories, dances, boyfriends, and best friends. For most girls, they can be some of the best things about high school. Those experiences can build the foundation for special lifetime friendships. For me, not so much. High School was inferno on earth, and I couldn’t wait to be out of the fire. Every day I spent there was pure misery; sometimes I thought it would be better than what they subjected me to five days a week. The only breathing room I had from the bullying was the weekend, which leant way to its own form of abuse. I was the pariah of the school: not even the social outcasts would dare to be caught with me. I spent my days alone, ridiculed, and tortured by all four hundred and sixty classmates. The idea of just one person befriending the lonely girl and standing against the masses beside me was laughable.
My life was nothing like a happily ever after eighties movie. No, in this version of the movie, the outcast girl doesn’t win the attention of the popular guy, who whisks her off in a fairy tale romance. In this version, Wesley Johnson is one of the most vicious of all my tormentors. Wesley Johnson, the football god of Hillstown High. With his curly, shaggy, brown hair, blue eyes like the Caribbean Ocean, and chiseled jaw, he had the looks of a god. His chin contained a charming cleft that had all the girls staring. He’s a winning combination of brains and athleticism and set to go to his college of choice. He was my best friend until he became my enemy, the cruelest of them all, and I still don’t know why. The best thing about Wesley before he turned on me was he accepted I wasn’t wealthy like him. I lived in a rundown apartment building, raised by a single mother who lived paycheck to paycheck. He wouldn’t let anyone treat me as if I was lesser because of it.
His friends were mine until they turned on me, too. I often wonder if they know why I fell out of grace with Wesley, or if they just followed his orders like good little sheep. The night that ended it all started off great. His father let him have a party at his house; everyone was there, and we were all having fun. His father even shocked us when he allowed a few of us to drink after the party wound down. It’s after that my memory goes blank. The next morning, I was in Wesley’s car and couldn’t remember how I got there. He took me home, a look of disgust on his face the entire drive, and didn’t say a word as I got out of his car. From that day on, I was public enemy number one. The one thing I do remember is the excruciating pain in my groin that next morning. When I got in the house, I removed my jeans to find my thighs black and blue, blood dried on them and my private part, and fingerprints bruised into my hips. There was an agonizing pain in my center.
It hurt to even move, and sitting down was the worst. It felt as if I’d been ripped in two. One didn’t have to be a genius to know someone violated me, but I can’t remember any of it. At times, I feel like that’s a blessing in disguise. I don’t know if I want to remember. Whoever assaulted me took my first time, one of the most precious gifts I had to give someone. I knew I couldn’t tell anyone; who would believe me when I didn’t remember anything? What was I going to say happened? I prayed and prayed and thankfully, the next month, my period came. I tried for weeks to talk to Wesley, but he ignored my calls, and his cold-shoulder treatment tormented me. Losing my best friend for no reason was heartbreaking. Little did I know the true heartbreak was yet to come. Two months later, my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer and had to begin chemo and radiation treatment. I had to step up and help as much as I could by raising my younger sister.
After her first round, we thought we had beaten it, but cancer is a bimbo, and it came back with a vengeance, this time spreading to her brain. She lost the battle and my aunt, who we hadn’t seen in years, was the only person left to care for us. You’d think people would have compassion and the torment would let up, or they’d at least give you a break to mourn. But no, the pricks were more vicious. Things only got worse. My aunt, the supposed adult, spent my mother’s life insurance money on her own frivolous needs: drugs, booze, and men. When the funds were depleted, she decided to live the way we did wasn’t for her and left me to care for my sister. Having heard the horror stories of foster care, I couldn’t let that happen, so I got a job.
I scrimped and saved and worked whenever I could. Thankfully, the older lady in the apartment above us took pity and cared for my sister so I could work. It just seemed I had to work more and more to keep the lights on and food on the table.. A missed bus led to meeting a person who helped me find a better paying job. I had to lie a little and wear a costume, but I was now able to pay the bills and be home more for Samantha. I made sure she had everything, while I wore hand-me-downs and oversized clothing. My aunt, well, she came around when she needed something, often taking what I saved for me and Sam. The bullying only got worse the older I got, and now it’s senior year. I’m almost free. I can do it. I will survive. Three days and I’m back in my hellhole of abuse. My own literal inferno on earth.