Chapter 60

THE DAY AFTER

Diane’s P.O.V.

Slowly opening my eyes from the brutal nightmare that I experienced last night, I began to wander around the whole surroundings. Then, it sank through my head that it wasn’t just a nightmare.

Everything was real—my naked body was only wrapped under the comforter sheet, and an unknown man was lying next to me. That explained the obscure fatigue in my body. Last night, he raped me. The realization made me shrug my shoulders as my chest felt weak. Tears quickly blurred my eyes until they fell on my cheeks.

He was also naked from what he repeatedly did to me last night. He had a light-brown skin tone and was about six-foot-tall in height. His back was facing me, and I didn’t bother to look at his face. How and where on earth could I get the courage to look at my rapist’s face?

My eyes continued to roam around until I noticed his brownish mole on the lower left part of his back and a hanged picture frame of a graduating man, I guessed in his early twenties. It was a charcoal painting. He looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t remember where I exactly saw him.

Sluggishly removing the comforter in my body, I dragged myself away from the bed. I did it quietly so that he would not wake up. I was about to reach for my scattered clothes on the floor when an unbearable pain hit me, causing me to almost yelp and drop down while twisting in pain on my lower part.

Feeling sore between my legs, I closed my eyes tightly and bit my lower lip hard to prevent any scream. My chest went up and down while enduring the pain.

When I looked around, there was bloodstain evidence on the bed sheet that what happened to us last night was absolutely real. I checked myself and shook my head after seeing the dried blood in my thighs from the rips that he did.

Every thought in my mind was enveloped with denial and grief. I didn’t want to accept the fact, but I guessed the truth was already in front of me, slapping me real hard. Because of that, it felt like my heart had been stabbed so many times and all I could do now was cry.

At eighteen, I was raped! My treasured purity was taken away from me just like that.

Controlling myself not to whine loudly, I ended up sobbing silently while quickly getting my dispersed clothes on the floor. Even though my private part was aching, I tried my best to move as fast as I could. Although my blouse was damaged in front, I could still use it. It still covers my chest and torso, even though my cleavage was showing.

Hurriedly fixing myself, fear crept me up while glancing at the sleeping devil. I speedily left the room while thinking that the rapist who took everything away from me would wake up and hurt me again.

If he would, there was a high probability that he would tie me again, or worse, kill me. Careful not to cause any noise, I didn’t close his bedroom door, rushed down the black curved stairs, and looked for the exit.

I didn’t bother to wear my shoes anymore because I didn’t even know where they were in the first place, and I didn’t want to waste my limited time just looking for them. I wasn’t able to comb my hair too and my breasts were almost emerging out from how my blouse was extremely torn.

Would I perfectly fix myself in this scenario when my only goal at this time was to leave this place? I just headed straight out of the unit. While barefooted, I walked and focused on what was ahead of me. I also ran around the luxurious building while looking for the elevator or fire exit.

This place was so big that I almost lost my way frequently. I was running out of breath when I finally found the elevator that would take me down. When the elevator door opened in front of me, all pairs of eyes were fixed on me, so I just bowed my head down and squeezed myself in the back.

Some of them were looking at me with pity on their eyes, while others were judging me—as if I was nothing but a whore. I hugged myself in fear when some men could not take their eyes away from my boobs, possibly thinking that I was a prostitute.

When I successfully got out of the building, I searched and walked through the main gate of what I thought was an exclusive condotel in Quego del Mar. The guard-on-duty did not even let go of me and just kept asking for the unit number where I came from.

But what terrified me the most was how he looked at me like I was a piece of meat. His eyes even got stuck on my cleavage while he was holding my left arm. Afraid that the rape would happen again, I used all my strength to kick what was between his legs.

He yelped and eventually released my arm. I saw that as an opportunity, so I immediately glided under the gate barrier and ran without looking back. I felt like the whole background was such a distortion, making me incapable of finding my way home.

While chasing my breath and using my weak legs to go a little bit further from that demonic place, I stopped, swiftly climbed inside the taxi, and gave our home address to the driver. Luckily, he was kind enough and even offered me his towel. He even suggested that he could accompany me to the nearest police station, but I refused.

I could see from his face that he felt sorry for me—perhaps because of my torn blouse that I was holding to cover my exposed cleavage. I ended up biting my lips and hugging myself in the back seat, as tears just couldn’t stop streaming down my face while saying my thanks to him.

It was a good thing that I always tucked some bills into my pocket. The taxi driver did not even want to accept my payment, but I still insisted on giving it to him for driving me home safely. As an exchange, he gave me his cell phone number just in case I would need his help in the future, which I gladly accepted.

At least I was able to get home, safe and sound. It was already a big blessing for me no matter what. When I entered the house, there was no one inside, but the door was not locked.

My siblings should not see me in this kind of state, so I rushed straight into my room, drowned, and cried myself in the bathroom. I discarded my clothes, took non-stop showers, and repeatedly rubbed my body with soap.

I was hoping to remove every trace of that rapist’s disgusting kisses and caresses in my body. I was struggling to delete the memory from my head, but I knew that the hickeys would stay in my body for a few more days. I was desperate to clean everything, but it would no longer change the fact that I was entirely ruined.

Helpless, I didn’t know what to do anymore until my legs got tired to support me. I dumbfoundedly dropped down on the cold tiles while the water from the shower was still gushing over my naked body. My eyes remained open as if blinded by the water I could see. Then, I stared at nowhere.

I sobbed again until I could no longer stop crying. Why did it happen to me? Of all people, why does it have to be me? All my life, I had been a good girl. What have I done wrong?

It was my eighteenth birthday yesterday. It was my debut—where a teenager would become a full-fledged young woman. Then, at eighteen, I would only be raped? At eighteen, did I deserve this?

It felt like I was already deprived of making my dreams come true. What now? My body was not only ruined once but for so many rounds last night I could no longer count! What will I do now?

Losing my virginity on the night of my debut was damn real hard to accept! I just wanted to die and end everything.

How could I receive justice when that rapist was possibly rich? We didn’t have enough money to file a complaint, pay a lawyer, and I didn’t want this scandal to stain my name. I had a well-known reputation in the university. I didn’t want anyone to know about this.