#ccltask2

I think I was eight the first time I had a crush. Her name was Lily and we were in Girl Scouts together. One day, we were making Christmas cards for the senior citizens at the old folks home in town, and I took the markers and drew a lily - a big purple one like the flowers that grew in my mother's garden - on my arm; underneath I wrote "I love Lily." As it happens, Lily happened to notice my little tattoo sesh, and was (unsurprisingly) pretty weirded out. She made a face and whispered something to Jessie and Spencer, and they all moved to another table, although I did hear someone call out "lesbo" a few minutes later. I didn't know what a lesbo was, but I knew I didn't want to be a Girl Scout anymore.

When I was twelve, that was my last year in public school, and the teachers welcome us to the seventh grade with a dance, if you could call it that - they dimmed the lights in the gymnasium and played the Cotton Eyed Joe and Macarena for a few hours, and all the "cool" girls brought dates, even though the boys essentially stood on the opposite wall while the girls gossiped in packs. At one point, some slowish song came on, an old ballad that I can't even remember the name of. I asked Katie Carrington - she was in my art class - if she'd like to dance with me. She made a face and backed away slowly, as though I had rabies or something, and muttered, "Ugh, Danielle, that's so gay," and ran back to her friends, snickering. I spent the rest of the afternoon by the table with the juice boxes.

There was a handful of others through the years. Lisa, in my jazz/tap class when I was fourteen. Jamie, who taught yoga on Saturdays at school when I was a junior. Emily, the girl who manned the counter at the pet store in my home town. I didn't talk to any of them, though. I mean, not only had I figured out what a "lesbo" was, but I knew Katie Carrington was right: I was so gay. And I mean, I've come to terms with it, but how exactly does that even work in the real world? Introduce myself to other potential-lesbos I might meet? "Hi, I'm Danielle and I'd really like to put my face in a vagina someday."

Awkward.

My parents always figured something was off, I'm sure... I mean, I had a poster of a half-naked Britney Spears on my wall until I was in my twenties. (Gayyyyyy.) I'm sure they assumed I'd come around though, meet a nice boy at college, fall in love and have sweet, sweet straight sex with his boy dick. The dream, yeah? I mean, I was weird. I AM weird, I should say, so at least I can use the whole anti-social weirdo angle as an excuse for my boyfriendlessness, but I have no idea how much longer I can keep that up - I mean, they'll expect grandchildren eventually.

Eloise leaned back in her chair, holding her drink in one hand and chewing her lip. Every once in a while she'd have a nightmare about what had happened, it wasn't very often, but when it did it made her nervous. It usually was followed by another black-out. She thought back to when she 6 years old, when she had been taken. 

She never hated her captor, in fact she was very fond of him. She'd grown to think of him as a second father and he started teaching her things that would help her in later life. He was half the reason she was like this now. It had all happened so out of the blue. 

Eloise closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to rid the smell of blood from her nose. It was all in the past, and yet she could still see him, all splayed across the floor like a toy someone had ripped up. She could still feel the hot blood running into her shoes and down her back. She could still feel his flesh under her fingernails. A small shiver ran up her spine before she took another drink, feeling it hit her stomach and pushing the memory a little further away.