In Her Words(5)

By: J.S Ellis

I detected an accent.

‘Yes, no, I don’t know,’ I mumbled.

‘You were really drunk last night,’ he said.

I stared at him, confused, ‘Sorry? What do you mean?’

His eyes sliced through me, ‘I’m Michael, you and your friend partied with us last night.’

‘I did what?’

He blinked at me, ‘you don’t remember, do you?’

‘No, I don’t,’ I gasped.

‘I didn’t think you would, you passed out.’

‘Passed out!’ I shouted in horror.

‘Yeah, you blacked out or something,’ he said.

‘Oh, I err, sorry, I’ve got to go.’ I said, walking away from him. I could feel his glare like he was judging me. I paced back up the street, with his face haunting my head, feeling like shit.

Once I got home, I rang Sylvie. According to her, we went to Blagclub after we left the Yellow Door. We had a drink at the bar, and some executives invited us over to their table. I didn’t want to join in, but Sylvie insisted. They turned out to be boring. A young man came over and tried to burn one of the business men’s hair with a lighter, as a joke. We left their table and joined the table of young men.

Sylvie was impressed by their sense of fashion and good looks. Apparently, I insisted I knew them, even though I’d never spoken a word to them before that night. She got on well with Nicky and nipped out with him for a while, leaving me alone with the other three boys. What happened between the time she left the club with Nicky, and when she returned, she can’t say.

‘Ask them,’ she said, ‘one of them didn’t drink or smoke - the blond one.’

‘I’ve already spoken to him,’ I said.

‘Really, when?’ she said.

‘I bumped into him in the street.’

‘And what did he say?’ she said, sounding surprised.

‘He didn’t say much only that I passed out.’

‘Well, you can always ask him to be more specific.’

‘As if I am going to knock on his door and ask him. It’s too embarrassing.’

‘You weren’t drunk when I left. Well, you’d had around five drinks, like me. And I was fine, so...’

‘So, you left me alone with three strange men, to go and have sex?’

‘They weren’t strange boys, they were cute.’

I thought of Michael and his angelic face, oh, he was cute all right.

‘What happened then?’

‘We took you home.’

‘Who’s “we”?’

‘Me and the boys,’ Sylvie added.

‘You brought strangers to my home!’ I snapped.

‘It was only one of them.’



Why can’t I remember any of this? I sighed, ‘and then?’

‘I took the keys from your bag, unlocked your door, and I made sure you were in bed and all.’

‘How considerate. So, you’re the one who undressed me?’

‘Yes, and put on your pajamas.’

‘Sylvie, my dress is covered in soil, and it’s ripped from the shoulders.’

‘You must have torn it when you fell.’

‘And what about the bruises all over my leg, my swollen forehead, and the graze on my cheek? Are you sure I didn’t get into a fight?’

‘No, I don’t think so. They said you hit the floor pretty hard.’

Sylvie started talking to someone in the background, and then returned to the phone, ‘something’s come up, and I have to go,’ she said, ‘it was a fun night we should do it again, without you passing out, of course.’

‘That’s not funny, Sylvie.’




Richard came home late at night. I didn’t know where he went. I didn’t ask, and I didn’t care. I was more concerned about what happened to me. I guessed he was at the golf club. I detected cigars and whiskey on him. He’s not supposed to smoke or drink, but I wasn’t going to tell him off, not after what I did.

Why do my thighs ache? Was I raped? Should I go to a GP or a gynecologist, or maybe the police? And tell them what, that I passed out and suspect I’ve been raped? What if I haven’t? How stupid would I look then? They have better things to do with their time. What if I wasn’t drunk, but drugged? And, who would do this? Michael? His friends?