BritSoc Children's Writing Competition, 3rd Prize, Seniors
What Harri Did Next
He was the one. I met him at an ice cream parlor on the night of my 16th birthday. I was there with a group of my friends, but once I met him, once I offered him to join us, it seemed like it was just the two of us.
He told me he was from Europe and that he had moved here last summer and barely left the house. He said he was 18 and was studying to be a doctor.
When I got home that night I was so flushed, so excited that I couldn’t sleep. I sat by my window all night just staring.
I didn’t expect him to turn up, I didn’t even think he knew where I lived but once I saw him standing there in my garden I was so ecstatic it didn’t matter. I snuck him in through the front door and brought him up to my room. We lay down in my bed; just lay there and eventually I feel asleep to the rhythmic sound of his breathing. I woke with a smile on my face and the sun creeping through my window. I kissed him, lightly on the lips. And he rolled me over and kissed me back. We spent the morning like that, giggling and enjoying each other’s company. I thought I was in love.
After that morning I was with him as much as possible, and when I wasn’t with him I was thinking of him.
Three weeks seemed like a lifetime in each other’s arms. We could waste away the day lying on the grass staring at the clouds or sitting on the beach letting the waves lick our toes. Those three weeks were the best of my life, while they lasted.
At the start he was patient. I would kick him off and tell him ‘not yet’ and he would always say how perfect it would be. I was sixteen, he was eighteen, we were the perfect age and we were made for each other. To that I would reply that if we were, we could wait. He was patient, but only for so long.
He started to get restless; when I kicked him off he would get angry, sometimes he would just leave. I could feel that he was eager, I was too but I wanted to wait, I wanted it to be right.
One night he almost went too far. I got scared, I told him to drive me home, but he wouldn’t. He tried to make it up to me, but I didn’t trust him for a while after that. And then it happened.
It was all so quick. He surprised me, told me he was taking me to dinner. I was so happy I didn’t think that the way he was driving there were no restaurants. He took me past the town, past the old farmlands and way out into the country. I don’t know how he did it but he found a little motel and took me inside.
I asked what we were doing. I got terribly scared I told him I was scared. He told me to trust him; he took me into one of the rooms and kissed me lightly on my fore head.
I shook my head. I was confused. He took hold of my skirt and started to pull it off. I told him no, I begged him, I started to cry but he didn’t stop. I cried for the entire night, even when he was finished with me, when he sat on the foot of the bed watching TV while I hugged myself on the bed.
“This wasn’t your first time, was it?” I asked him through my tears. He looked back at me and laughed.
I had been such a fool.
I thought about running away while he was sleeping but I had nowhere to go. I didn’t think he would kill me, or anything drastic like that, and that I was right. When he woke up he took his time and didn’t force me but we got back into the car and he drove me all the way back to my house. He walked me right up to the door and kissed me and told me he’d see me later. I went straight to my room and cried all day. I didn’t go out as much as that, I never did see him after that but I always felt like he was there, holding me and it made my cry even harder. I hated him for taking advantage of me like that, but I hated myself more. For being such a fool, for thinking that things like this only happen to other people, not me. But it did, and I knew I would never be the same. I didn’t know what to do next.
It
took me a year to recover enough to tell my dad. He was so angry when
I told him, angry at me for being stupid, just like I had been but
then he was angry at him. He held me all night muttering ‘my baby,
my poor baby.’ It was the first time I felt safe since that night.
I fell asleep like that, hugging my dad and when I woke up I was in
my bed. I went downstairs to get a drink but saw that I wasn’t
alone. At first I thought he was back, I was so afraid. I walked into
the living room, slowly and was relieved to see my dad. His back was
to me and he was obviously talking to someone. I tried to go in
quietly but I was so nervous I walked right into the coffee table and
hit my shin. Dad turned around and the look on my face made all my
nerves go away. He introduced me to Mr. Marshall. He was a police
officer.
At first I didn’t want to talk, didn’t know what to
say or where to start. He told me that after incidents like this a
lot of girls don’t know what to do next, but its best to tell the
police because then they can catch the guy before the man could hurt
someone else. That made me think, about all the girls like me I had
probably hurt so much by not saying anything for so long. It all came
spilling out then, I cried and I chocked but I told the whole tale. I
gave a formal statement and described him in full detail. It had been
a year but I still knew exactly what he looked like. His face had
been haunting me all this time.
Three weeks later Mr. Marshall was back. He said they had found a man who matched my description, and he knew it was hard but could I come in to identify him.
Seeing him again made my blood run cold.
“ We were close once.” He spoke through the thick glass. Was that all that was supposed to protect me? Glass. Glass could break. I took a step back.
“Once.” I replied.
His trial lasted a month. I thought it would never end. I had to speak in front of the courtroom. His lawyer questioned me and said things that seemed to make it ok. That I was stupid, I was the young one, I should have looked out for myself. For a year I had been telling myself it was my fault, now it was time for everyone to know it was him. There were three other girls there; apparently he had got to them before he found me. I was his last. No one else had been hurt in that last year, and that made me so relieved.
When his trial was finished we moved to Canada. My dad and sister didn’t mind moving. I spent half the winter indoors watching the snowfall. It gave me a sense of relief. And when I finally ventured outside I felt like I could put it all behind me. I knew I couldn’t really. It was a part of me now, but I could start again. I made a lot of new friends. Many close friends. I mainly stayed around girls, but I trusted myself more and more with boys. I took on a new name to help my new life. I had never much liked the name Harriet anyway, so I just told them all to call me Harri.
I’m happy now. I lead a good life. I wake up every morning and I sit there for a while. It gives me comfort that I know what I’m going to do next.
(1,450 words)