The Power Within

A story from my early high school years.

The Power Within

I never knew of the strength that I held in my hands, or the strength I held in my heart. When I felt his pulse beating roughly beneath my fingertips, I knew exactly what I was capable of. He knew it too, and I could see the trembling fear in his eyes as they shook in place, set on my face. This was a moment of truth.

I was always one to do my own thing, but never one to stand up for it. I was willing to do anything to avoid conflict, and go about my business with my nose pointed shyly toward the ground. That was, until Chase came along. We met on the internet, starting with innocent conversation. I remember the butterflies I’d get whenever I talked to him. He made me feel beautiful, without me having to try. Exchanging texts full of praise and smiley faces became a routine from the moment we woke up until we closed our eyes at night.

Eventually we agreed to meet up in person. I’d never met up with someone I only knew online before, and was very hesitant. He was a very persuasive person, and was incredibly persistent. The night we met, it was my first time ever sneaking out of my house. I remember walking down to the park just a few blocks away from my house. He called my cell phone, and discovered he had gone to the wrong park, and we agreed to head toward the blinking streetlight between us.

We found each other in the darkness, and I was glad at what I saw. He was tall, his hair was long, and his eyes were friendly. We then made our way back to my house. We slipped silently through the back door, to meet my older brother. I never told Chase this, but I was glad my brother was there. He was a tall, dark boy with long hair, dressed in ripped jeans and a leather jacket; which was very intimidating to the young stranger I’d brought into my home. I felt safe. Chase and I spent the rest of that night watching movies, discussing music and life, exchanging kisses as we discovered new similarities in opinions and personalities. Even in that first night, he told me he loved me. I should have seen the warning signs.

The next day, he spammed my phone with texts, asking me to officially be his girlfriend, and I was hesitant. I kept telling him no, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “I love you,” He told me, “I’ll do anything in my power to make you happy.” Eventually, I gave in. I felt that I had to; because his persistence was sharpening an annoyance I had for him. He continued sneaking over to my house often, despite my frequent protests, because I refused to go to him. Bringing his ps3, or his twelve-stringed guitar, we bonded listening to music or serenading one another. I never told him that I hated his singing voice, and was uncomfortable when he sang to me, with his eyes unmoving and focused on mine. He left me that twelve-string, hiding it in my closet with a love note under the strings.

We fought for the first time over religion. He had asked me many times to go to church with him, and each time I refused, and quickly changed the subject. One night, he was particularly preachy, and begged me yet again to not only go to church with him, but to change faiths entirely. Annoyed and offended by his relentless efforts, I tersely rejected the idea. “Well, I don’t think I can be with someone who doesn’t believe,” he said grimly. “Well, I don’t think I can be with a judgmental, closed-minded prick!” I snapped back at him. I hung up. Moments later, I received a call which I ignored. After multiple calls and texts that I didn’t bother to read, I picked up the phone. “I’m sorry, I love you. I wish you’d change faiths, but I can try to look past it,” he whined. He came back crawling to my feet. Like an idiot, I took him back.

He met my parents, and we went on a date. A cute Japanese restaurant we had long-boarded past a few times before. He held my hand through the whole meal, and though I felt uncomfortable, I let him. It felt nice to have someone want to show everyone that I was theirs. The meal was long, and we spoke to a band of strangers about music, and our relationship. When we went home, he decided that he’d pretend to leave, but go to my room from the back door. I refused to support this plan, and told him that it felt too dishonest. He continued to argue that he didn’t care, and that I wouldn’t be lying. I knew resistance was futile when it came to this boy.

I met him in the basement, where we intended to watch a movie with my brother. Jake chose the movie Religulous, knowing that religion was a touchy subject between me and Chase. He sat silently through the film, as Jake and I chuckled, making sarcastic and snarky comments. After the movie, Chase and I were going to go watch Tangled in my room.

It was late, and my entire room was engulfed in blackness, dimly lit with the light of the television. We cuddled, whispering sweet nothings and trading kisses. As things progressed, as things usually do between two hot-blooded teenagers, I felt more and more pressure. I was more and more afraid to tell him that I didn’t want to anymore. His face twisted into something that I didn’t love anymore, eyes wide and grinning wickedly. I lied there, frozen and observing those eyes for a minute.

 A my face grew hot, when I felt him holding me tighter, and getting closer and closer to breaking the barrier I had never crossed before. “No,” I told him, “you know I’m not okay with that.” I felt his fingers tighten around my wrist, pushing them into the mattress. He pushed harder toward me. “Come on,” he protested. I squeezed my legs around him, as if to let him know he couldn’t go any farther. He continued pushing. “No, damn it.” I grunted at him, squeezing tighter with my legs, hoping to make myself clearer. These efforts were futile. He didn’t intend to stop. The fear clutching my pattering heart didn’t want me to see that, but all of me knew. I lost myself in his burning eyes, wild with a psychotic excitement, I felt as if I didn’t know whose face I was staring into. My legs were shaking, and I knew I couldn’t hold him away much longer. My eyes were hot with tears.

Lost in thought, staring into a grimace that once gently kissed me lips, I didn’t realized that at this point I was protesting repeatedly. “No. Stop. Don’t.” He didn’t seem to hear me. His face, only inches from mine, I felt spitting and hissing, “Yes. YES!” Yelling now, pushing hard toward me in short painful bursts. He was so close now, and I was too frightened to do anything but hold my legs tight to the best of my abilities. I hadn’t even realized that my hands were numb, and he had cut off my circulation. I glanced over at his white knuckles, buried into the pink flesh of my forearms. A scalding heat rose upside of me that I had never felt before.

I quickly twisted my wrist under his rough, unyielding grip. I wriggled free speedily, and shot my hand up at his throat. I wrapped my hand, still purple and cold, around the neck above me. I never knew of the strength that I held in my hands, or the strength I held in my heart. When I felt his pulse beating roughly beneath my fingertips, I knew exactly what I was capable of. He knew it too, and I could see the trembling fear in his eyes as they shook in place, set on my face. This was a moment of truth.

I squeezed. I didn’t even bother to warn him. He was all out of warnings, and I didn’t intend to just let him go. My trembling fingers pushed deep into his skin, wet with sweat. I felt the pieces beneath the surface moving away from my fingertips, as I thrust them deeper. He squeaked weakly, as I held my grip, and my gaze. His eyes were filled with tears, now. There were so many things I could say, but all I could muster was a cold and rough, “Get off of me, motherf-----.” I shoved him away from me, and sat up, still watching his figure in the darkness.

The rest of the night, he spent pleading for forgiveness. Trying again and again to kiss my face. I turned from him, each time more cold, and each time more violent. I told him to leave. By this time the sun was rising, and I sent him away crying, cursing, and begging. He was no more than a stranger to me any longer, and his face made me nauseous. I vowed to myself never to be weak again.

From that moment on, I have been nothing but loyal to myself, and have not�"will not let anyone make me feel smaller, or weaker than I know I am. No one’s values are more important than I mine, and I will never compromise who I am again. I found my strength that day. Of course it was terrible, and it was terrifying, but I couldn’t be any gladder that I found my strength.

 

Reviews

[The Grappler]

A good look at this phase of life from the perspective of a young girl, and a good thing for men to read and learn from. This is a very hard time in life for both, and sadly there is little to no 'guide book' to follow at that time. I'm glad you found strength, but don't let that strength turn to hardness... we could all use a little less of that in life.