Chapter Four
“Moments don’t go away,
they burry and become you.”
—Oliver Masters
TIME STOOD STILL at Dolor. I’d officially been here a week, and everyone walked aimlessly from one class to the next in a fog as the seconds seemed like hours, myself included. I was sure boredom would be the death of me.
The only action—and variety—I got was from Oscar, the trainee, who came by on Tuesdays and Thursdays to drop off letters and useless cash my father sent me.
The only purpose of sex with Oscar was to pass the time and allow me to take control of my mundane schedule. I’d been called many names throughout high school. Slut. Whore. Floozy. You name it—I was called it. It never bothered me in the way it killed other girls’ confidence, and it had almost destroyed Sarah’s, my only so-called acquaintance in high school.
I tried to ignore it, but the crying only got worse in the bathroom stall behind me. Rolling my eyes, I nudged the stall door with my foot to see if it was locked, and it was.
After groaning, I called out, “Please, for the love of god, stop crying.”
But she didn’t.
“Open the damn door,” I said, unsure of why I was irritated by it, only wanting it to stop.
The lock clicked, and weight carried the door open. Sitting over the toilet—pants up, thank god—was a chubby girl with blonde hair and big blue eyes. Hertear-soakedface was red. She looked silentlyup at me.
“What are you crying over?” Iasked her.
She tried to catch a breath as her eyes and nose drained intoher hands.
“I made a mistake.” Her voice was shaky and words barely audible.
I leaned against the door, unsure if I had the energy to get involved. It wasn’t sympathy I had for the girl. I honestly couldn’t give two shits as to why she was crying, but I was bored and curious. “What did you do?”
She chewed her lip to stop the trembling. “I had sex with TreySullivan.”
Air blew out of my nose as I let out a light chuckle. “And let me guess, he told everyone.” She nodded as another tear fell, and I continued, “And Mallory and her whole posse let you have it? Slut shaming you?”
She nodded again.
“You screw around a lot?”
The girl narrowed her eyes as if my question wasinsulting.
“Hey, I like to fuck, too. I’ve been with Trey and hismicro-dick. You can be honestwith me.”
Her shoulders relaxed, and her tears finally stopped. “I don’t know why I do it … I guess I like the attention.”
Exhaling, I fell back against the stall and crossed my arms. “Let me tell you something. The only person you need to worry about is yourself. If having sex with people makes you happy, and it makes you feel good, then who cares what other people think? That’s the problem with people these days … Everyone wants to put others down because of their own insecurities. So, every time someone calls you a slut, what they’re actually saying is, ‘Man, I wish I was secure with my sexuality.’ Anytime someone calls you a tramp, what they’re really saying is, ‘I’m fucking jealous I couldn’t experience itmyself.’”
The girl’s eyes went wide, and her smile grew. “You reallythink so?”
“I know so. It’s been proven single girls who have casual sex with multiple partners have higherself-worthand body image. Look it up if you don’t believe me. They also have higher standards when they are ready to be in a relationship. I’m not saying go out there and sleep around as much as you can … All I’m saying is girls like Mallory and boys like Trey are the ones who are insecure.” I shrugged. “No one has a right to insult something they can’t understand, and tears shouldn’t be wasted on misunderstandings.”
The girl giggled, and I cringed.“You’re unbelievable …” She smiled. “What’s your name?”
“Mia.”
“Sarah,” she said as she pointed at herself. “I think we should be friends, Mia.”
I forced a smile in return. “I don’t do the whole ‘friends’ thing.”
