College Girl: Victim's Perspective (1st Person)

Why would Dr. Anderson call me in to talk? I'm doing great in her class! And I barely even talk to her, let alone other students so it can't be that I'm disruptive...

Oh god. My hands shake as I pack a bowl, my small bubbler sitting next to my knee. Blonde and pink hair brushes against my face and obstructs my eyesight.

With a growl, I set down the bowl and tie my hair back into a ponytail as quickly as I can. The strands pull against my scalp, but it doesn't matter. Not now.

The bowl clinks home after I finish packing it. I lean back against the gnarled tree behind me, breathing as evenly as I can. Cool evening air blows in a small wind. A fiery red spreads across the sky and mates an orange tint, painting puffs of clouds. Below me, I hear the waves slowly, methodically rumble into the cliffs. Stretched out for miles upon miles, the dark blue sways gently, light reflecting in minuscule pools on its thin surface, until it meets the fiery sunset on the horizon.

With my hands and breathing steadied, I get out my lighter. Keeping my eye on the beautiful scene before me, I push the dancing flame into the bowl and raise the mouthpiece to my lips, sucking in with all my might.

Burning heat enters my throat and my lungs. I welcome its embrace, holding my breath for as long I can. As soon as I finally can't take it anymore, I begin to slowly blow out air. Smoke expels from my puckered lips, rising towards the evening sky. I snuggle into the tree and take a swig of water, focusing solely on the feeling of the air on my skin and the sound of the waves below.

It's starting to effect me, for sure. I guess that's one of the few benefits of being a lightweight; when I need a little relief, I don't have to spend as much time and money as other people do.

Everything feels calmer already. The burning pressure in my chest is a familiar comfort that edges out the tense pressure from before. The slowing of my thoughts a fucking blessing, the relaxation of my muscles a godsend.

It looks like a girl is running topless along the cliffs. Even from my vantage point, I can catch the flash of her pearly skin and the bounce of her freed buxom bossom.

What the fuck?

Another girl trails behind her with her hand down her pants. Please, please let her be adjusting her falling shorts and not doing what it looks like.

As I follow them with my eyes, I can't help but think she is doing what I think: jilling off. In public. Behind her topless friend.

Fucking typical. Probably part of the oh-so-mysterious O.O. or some shit. Why can they get away with things like that, but I can't even wear my normal weekend shorts to class? Hell, Jessica masturbated on Dr. Thompson's desk yesterday and no one said anything after she flashed her fancy pin!

Ugh, whatever. Not worth thinking about.

I turn my attention back to the scenery, pushing the women out of my mind. Birds chirp in the distance, and the beach is bathed in a beautiful light. Eventually, I again pick up the bubbler and raise it to my lips. I take a long hit, the bubbling sounds caressing my ears like a distilled, melodic calm. After breathing in until I can't take it anymore, a cough rises in my chest, but I push it down.

C'mon world, it's not like I'm gonna fucking cough already.

The horizon is just so beautiful. So serene. It speaks to my fraying thoughts, gently rebukes the mistaken assumption that any one moment in my life is truly defining. There’s so much more.

I sit here, still, the bubbler stored inside a hollow book in my backpack. Focusing on nothing but the nature around me, the way that the waves lap against the rocks and the sky turns to a darker and more muddied red.

If spiritualists and the religious feel like this all the time, maybe I could get behind their misguided mysticism.

Damn.

The soft sound of a piano crawls it’s way out from my backpack, starting low but growing to a quick crescendo. Shit, I’ve already gotta go.

I sigh, cracking my neck, and stand up. After brushing myself off, I straighten out my black t-shirt and try to mentally prepare myself. After a few more deep breaths, I grab my things and set off at a brisk walk towards Dr. Anderson's office, preparing for the worst.