Danas Monologue

Threnody by David-Matthew Barnes

The orchard, Jake. Do you remember that night? I just remember the dirt. I was
laying there in the dirt you were on me and you kept pushing against me. Your
fingers felt like razors tearing at me. I could smell the booze on your breath and it
was so sour and it made me gag. I wanted to vomit, but I was choking on the dirt.
The fucking dirt was in my mouth. And I couldnt breathe. I was fighting you. I was
begging you to stop. But you wanted to come. And I let you have your way. Then
you left me there, in the orchard, in the dark. So I followed you, back inside. Back
to that graduation party where you told all of your friends to be polite to me. I just
stood there. And I was freezing, and all of their eyes were on me. My dress was
ripped. And I looked down, to try and fix it. And I saw the blood, Jake. It was
running down my legs They knew what you had done to me. Even though I told
you no. Do you realize that, Jake? I kept saying no! But you couldnt hear me,
because I was full of dirt. You were so messed up that night. I had to drive us
home and I was still bleeding. From your scratches and scars. I brought us back
here so you could pass out and so that I could wash the dirt out of my hair. And that
smell that awful smell of you and their judgment.