Part 2
            I Will Never Be Clean Again

Monday arrived too soon for Tara. She needed more time to isolate herself and think about all that had happened than one day. Her encounter with Eric didn’t seem any simpler or understandable the day after. Her insides were eating away at her and she had no one she could really turn to for help.

“Who do you talk to when you fuck you cousin, feel dirty and bad, and want to do it again?” Tara thought to herself. She did not have an answer. There really was no one that could be turned to. If she told a friend it would get out and that would be bad, if she asked a teacher or councilor it would get written up and they would probably have to inform her mother. There was no safe place to go.

Class that day dragged by and she couldn’t keep herself focused on anything. Each time she was called on by a teacher she had no idea of what was going on and was humiliated to admit that she had not been paying attention to her lessons.

“Really Tara, someone as close to graduation as you should be paying attention constantly. There’s no turning back now.” Her economics teacher lectured her in front of the class. She blushed and hid her face in humiliation, feeling paranoid that somehow everyone really knew her secret.

At lunch Tara thought about asking one of her friends some hypothetical advice, but decided they knew her well enough to figure out a little bit of what was going on. She chose to lie and tell them all that she was very tired and had not slept well, which she hadn’t. She just hoped that when her friends made jokes about taking her virginity they didn’t notice the way she blushed and tried to change the subject.

During class changes Tara all but ran through the halls. The air was hot and oppressive and she felt so naked and alienated from everyone. She felt thousands of unseen eyes burning into her and heard the disapproving thoughts of ever person she met. The only solace she had was in her art class where she could dedicate herself to painting and remain totally silent without anyone questioning her.

The end of the day finally came and Tara dashed for her mother’s truck as quickly as she could. She just wanted to go home and hide in her room.

“How was school? You look like you’ve been dragged through the mud.” Her mother said.

“I’m tired. It was a long day.” Tara shrugged. Her mother glanced at her questioningly.

“You alright? You’ve been a little weird for a few days. Something up that you should tell me about?”

“No.” She said flatly.

“You sure?”

“Yes Mom! If you are trying to get at something why don’t you just say it because I have no clue what the hell you are accusing me of!” Tara snapped at her mother. Her mother shrugged and said nothing. Tara stared out the window and tried to keep from crying all the way home.

At home Tara went up to her room and turned on her computer. After she had turned on her music and logged onto the net she collapsed on her bed, totally overwhelmed by everything. She stayed there for a few minutes listening to the songs cycle through her play list. Why was everything she had on her computer a depression song by The Cure? She loved them, but sometimes it just was too much for her to handle. She turned off her music as she checked her e-mail. Nothing but junk mail. She threw herself back down on her bed and decided that the silence was worse than listening to depressing Goth rock and turned the music back on.

“So what am I going to do? I wont see him for a while probably, but I can’t avoid him forever?” She mumbled and stared at the cracks in her ceiling. “What would you do in my place?” She asked a poster of Robert Smith on the wall. All the poster did was stare back. “…but the air is getting heavier and it's closer and I’m starting to sway and the hands on all my shoulders don't have names and they won't go away…” A voice connected to nothing sang through the speakers of her computer. Her eyes glazed over as she tried to understand what one did in such a situation.

“What will I say to him when I see him? How am I going to act like everything is normal?” She hugged a pillow tightly to her chest and dug her fingers into it to the point of pain. She thought of a razor that sat on her dresser, not to kill herself, but just to cut. She needed to feel something, something more real than all the confusion she was suffocating in.

“…and I’ve got blood on my hands and I’ve got hands in my brain and the first short retch leaves me gasping for more and I stagger over screaming on my way to the floor and I’m back on my back with the lights and the lies in my eyes…” The music continued. She pushed the razor out of her mind. The pictures on her bookshelf stared at her through cold, unfeeling eyes and made her feel even more alone… even more sick.

“Stop looking at me.” She cried kicking down the picture of her and Eric in his living room smiling. She broke into hysterics unaware of everything but herself and the music playing just loud enough to mask the sound of her tears.

“Sharp and open
Leave me alone
And sleeping less every night
As the days become heavier and weighted
Waiting
In the cold light
A noise
A scream tears my clothes as the figurines tighten
With spiders inside them
And dust on the lips of a vision of hell
I laughed in the mirror for the first time in a year
A hundred other words blind me with your purity
Like an old painted doll in the throes of dance
I think about tomorrow
Please let me sleep
As I slip down the window
Freshly squashed fly
You mean nothing
You mean nothing
I can lose myself in Chinese art and American girls
All the time
Lose me in the dark
Please do it right
Run into the night
I will lose myself tomorrow
Crimson pain
My heart explodes
My memory in a fire
And someone will listen
At least for a short while
I can never say no to anyone but you
Too many secrets
Too many lies
Writhing with hatred
Too many secrets
Please make it good tonight
But the same image haunts me
In sequence
In despair of time
I will never be clean again
I touched her eyes
Pressed my stained face
I will never be clean again
Touch her eyes
Press my stained face
I will never be clean again
I will never be clean again
I will never be clean again
I will never be clean again”

**Lyrics in this section were quoted from “Open” by The Cure and “The Figurehead” By The Cure.**