TYPING: There are some things we can do in the dark…
This is what freedom feels like, I thought, as I felt a surprising gash of air tease my pores. I was wearing my darkest Ray Bans to conceal my face, a jacket over a v-necked t-shirt, and a jeans shorts that reached my thigh.
They don’t lie. Ghanaian prisons are no places for the nineteen-year-old virgin. When all the older guys found out there was fresh meat in their presence, there’d be a waiting list to spend ‘quality’ time with you so long that you might dry-retch at the sight of it. If you weren’t as tough as I was, well, someone might insert their monster cock into you and pull your sphincter on their way out. (Savage imagery, I know. But if you’ve showered with these inmates, you’d have a perfect idea of what I mean if you bend down to pick your fallen soap).
I learnt the trick the first time someone tried to… well, um, spend ‘quality time’ with me. All I had to do was squeeze my butt. They’d slap your back countlessly for you to loosen up. But if you had my kind of resilience you’d tell them to go screw themselves. They’d give up when they realized you were not willing to make them have their way. Everyone was bunking on good behaviour to get them out of jail.
TYPING: … but no one hides in the dark forever.
You could tell my exhilaration after I was let out of prison. Nina, the girl who’d survived being brutally raped, and a severe episode of victim-shaming that almost left her dead, identified me as someone who could never hurt a fly (—bless her still beating heart). So I was released much to the disappointment of the irrepressible bald detectives who were trying to pin me down with the charge.
Well, if you’d been confined in prison for forty-eight hours, there was no way you’d get back and wish to stay indoors. On every chance, you’d step out and catch a glimpse of the sun because in prison all you had was a heating onion bulb to stare at.
So there I was, on my way to the library for the fast-approaching examination dates when under normal circumstances I would have stayed in my room and did all my studying indoors. Raymond, my man-ho roommate has never been so pleased. You’d think he’d been worried sick when I was in police custody. “Kobby, I do have my own way of dealing with pain,” he’d said defensively upon my reproach, “though I must admit, sex without you watching left this big void in my heart. It taught me to man up and just put it in because there wouldn’t always be someone to pat my butt afterwards and tell me I did great.”
“Raymond, fuck you!” I had cussed at him as I walked out the door.
“I would have said the same, but I figure you’ve had a hard time in prison already!” He had shouted after me.
TYPING: There are some things you could never hide in the dark.
Thank God for Ray Bans. I had picked up it was founded by some two New Yorkers centuries ago. Whoever urged them to follow their dreams, certainly didn’t mind he’d be making their future a darker one… and invisible to anyone who wanted to catch a glimpse of him.
My sunglasses were like a shield as I’d expected. No one recognized me as the guy who’d been sent to prison for being charged as campus’ serial rapist. Some tried to peer as though they might have seen me somewhere, but I smiled at them as I breezed through security check handing over my bag. No one thought you could be a rapist and still be this charming.
I opened my laptop as I settled in on one of the empty seats in the reading area. I knew I should have taken off my glasses the moment I walked in. Because everybody might think me some weirdo for putting on shades when the sun was nowhere out in this place. But I’d better be branded as a weirdo than a rapist.
I opened a few pages of Word and began learning… was it 19th Century Literature? The thing about the library is you could never focus with people walking in and out every minute. One look at my laptop screen, then I’d cast my eyes at a moving figure heading towards the exit or moving in to take a seat. After several minutes of trying to concentrate, I gave up.
How did these people stick their noses in their books and blurred out all that was going on around them? I asked myself as I looked around the reading area to see some very serious students who were so unperturbed by the continuous disruptions.
I guessed they had to be regulars to be able to deal with the distractions. So as I was no regular, I did the next best thing to learning in the library: looking at people learn in the library. I caught some familiar faces I could have waved at when they looked my way, but that was one of the merits of wearing dark shades. No one could see you were looking at them. So I could stare at Tom, Dick and Harry. And ooh, John, Peter and Paul. And no one would find out I was staring.
My gaze traced around the library, moving around areas I never even knew existed. Until it landed on Mandy. Wait, Mandy?! I really hadn’t known she was the library-kind. I mean, she was a model and into fashion. And people like that certainly didn’t have the brains for…
My thoughts ground to a halt when I noticed a movement behind Mandy. A guy I knew all too well. I gasped. Why was he not learning?——OK, perhaps I wasn’t the right person to be asking that question, but——Why was he staring intently at Mandy when he was supposed to be learning like everyone else?
Immediately my heart skipped a beat. What if I was staring at the rapist? Oh my God! It made perfect sense! He’d been present at fashion week——I didn’t know for certain he was at Maya’s I Can Do All Things Better Than Celeste party last two weeks, but… Oh my… I might be staring at the rapist! Because why else would he have followed Mandy all the way? And remember the thing I noted about people who weren’t rapists? This guy wasn’t smiling! He was staring so hard at Mandy I figured he might have been the one who raped her…
Mandy stood up from her seat, she checked her watch, picked up her books and headed for the exit.
I was sweating underneath my shirt, waiting, praying, tapping my feet against the smooth wooden floor. And finally, this guy stood up. Oh my! He really was the rapist! A chill run down my spine as I watched him follow her.
Well, I was not going to sit there and do nothing. What if he was about to attack her a second time! I stood up, packed my laptop and before I could take any step to pursue him… he turned at the doorway and awarded me a death stare. I scrambled back into my seat. That there had been enough to send me nose-deep into my book. I wasn’t following. Mandy could watch out for herself.
TYPING: How does doing things in the dark affect us?
“I’m not staying in the shadows, I’m not backing down,” Celeste certified every proclamation with a bang on the table. “I’m not going to allow slut-shaming to be a thing in this school. I’m going to fight till I break, then I will know nothing could be done about it. But no one ever saw Celeste break by fighting for what she wants…”
My mind was elsewhere. But I didn’t want to tell her. I was gazing intently on the hot cocoa we’d placed on the table minutes ago which neither of us had touched. It developed turbulent waves with every fierce slam my self-imposed personal stylist awarded the table with. My eyes fell on the mug, and they went wide. I really hadn’t thought Celeste had been serious about this slut-shaming thing. So serious she was now making mugs with words like ‘Being a victim doesn’t make me a slut’ and ‘Slut-shaming Mug. I ain’t scared ‘cos I got my girls.’. I spun my eyes around the café we were brunching at and saw a few similar ones being used by other students.
“Kobby? Kobby?” She steered my focus towards her by waving her hands maniacally in the air. “Are you joining me?”
Though I hadn’t listened to her conversation entirely, I knew what her request entailed. But I thought there were more pressing matters. “Celeste,” I hesitated a bit, then I went for it, “I think I might know who the rapist is.”
Her look went dead for seconds, then she picked up her bag and slammed it on the table. “So, there’s the t-shirt,” she took out a t-shirt from her bag that said ‘I’m no slut. Just a victim of circumstance’, and another in a shade of green that said ‘You have no idea who you just called a slut, bastards.’. She pulled out tons of them, before exhaling in relief and slamming in her chair.
Just like me she didn’t know how to handle the news and reached for her t-shirts again, studying them at all angles before casting a look at me. “Do we know him?” she asked in a whisper.
“Great.” She wore on a big, fat smile. “So are you joining me to protest against slut-shaming?”
“Celeste, I know who the rapist is.” I repeated through gritted teeth. I was surprised at her behaviour. OK, she was bound to be shocked. But even I got over it after hours since the library incident this morning. And I knew Celeste to be stronger than I was. This was a girl who chased a thief out of her showroom, hit him so hard with a stone and made him promise he’d steal anything but women’s clothing (—“If you dare help reveal Vicky’s secret, I’m going to bash this stone in your face, in your face, your face!”).
“So then what?” She burst out aggravatingly. “What happens? We follow a lead that leads to a dead end? I’m tired of this. Now, it’s my calling to stand against victim-blaming, so would you or would you not join me?”
Before I could answer a no, and that I wanted to be on the chase for the rapist so that he didn’t get anyone slut-shaming his victims, Grannie-Grandma plonked in the empty space by Celeste.
“I saw all these stickers and posters and…” My gran’s voice trailed off upon spotting the mugs. “Anyway, so after seeing all these stuff I wanted to find you and ask how I could help.”
Celeste awarded me a pointing stare that said, ‘See, here’s a great friend.’, then turned to my gran, “How about helping me protest right after coffee?”
“Mm…” You could tell on the old lady’s features she wasn’t all that psyched as she was pretending. “I was thinking something that put me more on the side-lines, you know? I’m old, I do not want to be getting in the way of you youngsters as you do your thing. Things might get a bit rowdy, and I would very much like if I took more of a… spectator’s role?”
“What she means is,” Maya came from nowhere slamming on the empty space beside my bench, “She wants to report the event.”
“Isn’t this girl a smartie?” My gran wore on a wry expression. Of course, she’d meant exactly what Maya had said but she didn’t want to put it outright because she had a feeling Celeste might object.
“Spit it out, gran.” Maya backed the old lady to a corner. “I saw you climb out of Sandra Buttock’s van.”
“The bitch!” Celeste muttered. “Of course she has her hands in this.”
“Hey, you two,” Grannie-Grandma flicked a threatening finger between the two girls. “I’m doing anything to make weather girl. I’ve stayed on this campus long enough and now that I’ve found my purpose I ain’t backing down.” She slammed her hands on the table.
“Anyway,” Maya broke the few seconds of silence we shared casting weird looks at my inappropriately obsessed grandma. “I don’t see why it’s offensive you call someone a slut. I think, it’s an empowering term. A woman who decides when to have sex and when not to.”
Except this woman sitting right beside me did not know when to decide not to have sex with my roommate. In that case she was no slut? I shook my head, losing myself in my own thoughts on how to catch the rapist as Celeste and Maya broke into a heated debate on who a slut was with my Gran making notes. If I did put a stop to this rapist, slut-shaming was definitely going to stop which would be a win-win for Celeste and I. I had the felon, I just needed an idea to get him behind bars.
“A party!” I exclaimed right at the shouting bunch. “We could have a party!”
They all stared at me as though I’d lost the plot.
“It’s the perfect idea ever. You want to prevent slut-shaming, I want to catch the rapist. You promote slut-shaming at this party. I try to get the rapist.”
Celeste eyed me dubiously, wondering if my idea was sane enough. Of course, Maya and Grannie-Grandma didn’t know I might have stumbled on the rapist. And I wasn’t telling them even more so when my gran was now reporting to someone from campus media.
“Great idea, Kobs,” Maya smiled placatingly at me. She knew I could sense a ‘but’ “But, the
Vice Chancellor, announced when you were doing jail-time that there’s a ban on parties.”
“What?” I frowned deeply. “OK, the curfew was going too far but this is just insane——what the heck is it you are writing?” I snatched my gran’s notepad and stared at words I could not see then tossed it back.
“But, it’s a great idea nonetheless, Kobs,” Celeste ignored Maya shake her head doubtfully.
“I’m thinking of a big party, one almost the whole school can attend. Tonight. We could use that as a channel to fight against slut-shaming. And you could help, Kobs.”
I watched all three of them give each other knowing looks.
My heart fell to my stomach as I got an idea of what all three had in mind. I didn’t leave prison just so I could get into THAT. “Guys, I’m not doing this.”
“Easy, Kobs. Your butt could be the answer to all our problems.” Maya winked at me.
I shook my head.
“Kobby, we come from a long line of people with the heart to sacrifice,” Grannie-Grandma added with a shrewd smile, “and a butt no one can resist. Trust me.”
I didn’t trust her.
I cut in Celeste. “Remember you hate Maya’s guts. She’s banging your ex, Raymond, every other night. You can’t side with her—“
“Her guts wouldn’t change anything,” Celeste clasped my hand and stared at me with sorrowful puppy eyes. “But your butt would.”
“I hate all three of you now!” I stood up from the table in annoyance and walked out of the café.
TYPING: Why do we hide in the dark?
The Dean of Students was known to be a man after his student’s hearts. That’s what the big citation says on the door to his office. Why such a man would turn around and start chasing after students’ butts was a mystery to me, I thought shutting the door behind.
“OK.” The older man raised his hands to stop me. It was clear I’d had him completely fagged out after I’d laid down all my arguments why it was necessary we had a party. “What’s in it for me?”
I cleared my throat. I had been waiting for that question. “There’s a long waiting list.” I said simply and thankfully he seemed to understand. I wasn’t lying. Those prisoners would have my head if I let anyone get to me before they did.
“I’m giving you a whole auditorium, Kobs. There must be something you could do to push me up that list.”
“Sir, the others are doing a lot.” I added impertinently, “And only my friends call me ‘Kobs’, sir.” Certainly one man who wanted to create a murder scene in my bottom couldn’t be a friend.
“OK,” He sighed defeatedly. “So how long do I wait?”
I quoted a timeframe.
“Are you kidding me? I could get a million orgasms within that time span.” He drew closer.
“Kobby, how much would it take just to do a duet with you? Is it so hard to ask?”
Wait. He wanted to do a duet with me? “You want to do a duet with me?”
“I’ve picked out our songs since I first laid eyes on you. Me, Cher. You, Madonna.”
“What?” I exclaimed in disbelief.
“See, from the day I met you,” he rushed to explain. “I knew I’d met my cross-dressing pal.”
Oh, Christ! My stomach churned. I didn’t blame him! The first time he’d seen me I’d been dredged from head-to-toe in designer label just because one campus presenter couldn’t get her hands off me and wanted to have sex so much that she ruined my clothes only to find that I wasn’t into TV Personalities with big butts.
“We cross-dress then we transform ourselves into female pop stars. Busy men by day, Female pop-stars by night. I do it all alone. And it’s so lonely. I just need a friend.” He raced for a notebook. “Donna Summers or Aretha Franklin? Take a pick.”
I frowned. “I am not transitioning myself into an eighties diva.”
“Well, your loss then,” he slammed the book. “No party.”
I quickly sat up in my seat and threw him my best smile. “Look, I do understand your need to… look like someone else. But I can’t sing, I’d butcher the songs. But I hear you have a very, very, melodious voice.”
“You heard?” He looked dubious.
“Well, I do walk by your house at night.” I fibbed. “And this might be the chance you’ve been waiting for. Reveal yourself to the student body as…”
“Britney Spears or Nikki Minaj or Beyonce or… oh, I hate, Boy George, who does his makeup for him anyway?”
“Exactly. You could be whoever you want on stage.”
“Hey, do you think the students would appreciate me come out of my shell? I’m not sure they’d take a liking to a crossdressing Dean, why I’ve stayed in my closet for years.”
“Oh, they’d certainly consider you less of a freak of nature than a victim of a rape.”
He beamed. “OMG, it’s my debut night.”
Yeah, whatever. I quickly pulled out some papers. “By signing these agreement papers you agree to make your debut happen.”
“I cannot believe I’m doing this.” He was giggling, so pleased with himself as he signed.
“Thank you, Kobby, you’ve really made my dreams come true.”
“Oh, my friends call me ‘Kobs’.” I said on my way out and shook my non-existent boobs in his direction. “You go, girl.”
I popped out my phone as I walked in the direction of my hostel. “Celeste,” I called out her name and hoped she heard me through her noisy background.
“Kobby, how did it go?”
“We have a party!”
She cheered in delight. “Oh, my God. I can’t be smiling. We are on a protest against slut-shaming at the moment so I’d get back to you soon. WE WON’T TOLERATE SLUT-SHAMING—”
I disconnected the call already making arrangements of what might be the most effective party on campus. I was going to apprehend a rapist!
TYPING: Who do we unleash in the dark?
Oh, I see why Celeste was always bitter, I thought exasperatedly as I tried to handle her stick-shift convertible. If you always had to handle this beast before you got to every destination, why wouldn’t you get out of it pissed and ready to fuck people over?
I sighed after one last time my head tried to fly out of the windscreen. This car was going to be the end of me if I didn’t park somewhere else and tailed the rapist by foot.
Yes, I had been tailing the rapist. From his hostel, all through noon. I just wanted to make sure I knew about his movements. Though I promise, I wouldn’t want to quit my day job as a student if spies always dealt with the possibility of losing their lives.
I brought the car to a screeching halt at the auditorium the party was being held at. I waited for the rapist to get out of his vehicle into the dark and head for the bouncers who had to deal with the longest line of crowd for any campus party. The police were also doing their job, making sure the crowd passed through strict security checks. Only if they knew this moment, they were buzzing the rapist through because he was on the VIP list.
God, there was no need to go shouting out that he might be the felon they had their eyes set on entrapping. For all I knew, he really wasn’t the guy I was after. And it’d be sad to have him go to prison for a crime he didn’t commit. I thought of the waiting list that would be up for his arse, and shivered.
I got down from my car just as he’d entered and headed for the auditorium. I received a text from Mandy as I had a police actually grope me in the name of security-checks. She was coming to this party xx and I was happy she was coming xoxo. Now before I risked sounding like some genius you guys would roll your eyes at, catching a rapist was just like catching fish: you needed bait. And I was happy my bait wouldn’t be missing this party for anything in this world xx.
I walked into the foyer of the auditorium, meeting another set of bouncers who took out a spray at me and before I could protest graffiti’d something over my black t-shirt and pushed me into the auditorium.
“Oh my God…” My jaw dropped at my surroundings. People were all over—thousands, sweaty, smelly, and dancing. Lights were jutting out from the ceiling and illuminating the place in spectrums unknown to man. Drinks were all around and the waitresses in ‘Slut-
Shaming sucks’ t-shirts asked you to take in your cocktail along with the snack you’d been reminded to bring. “I have no snacks,” I’d said to the girl who handed me a flute with red liquid. But she walked on probably having not heard me. How could anyone hear in this earth-shattering music?
Most importantly, I thought as I wormed through the sea of faces, how was I supposed to keep an eye on the rapist when I couldn’t spot him through the crowd?
“Kobs,” A familiar voice accosted me from behind. It was my roommate’s constant booty-call girl. “Are you enjoying the party?” She screamed in my ears.
“I just got here, Maya.” I screamed back at her.
She stared at my t-shirt. “’I’m sorry I used to be a fucking slut-shamer?’” She read out what I hadn’t noticed was written with graffiti.
“I have no idea how…” Before I could respond any further—
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a bass disembodied voice filled the auditorium. “The performance of a lifetime. Performing Telephone by Lady Gaga and Beyoncé… your Dean of students.”
My heart plummeted as the room darkened except for green neon lights illuminating the stage. I had totally forgotten the Dean of Students’ performance. What with pursuing a potential serial rapist and all?
“Hello, hello, baby you call I can hear a thing…” There was silence as a trembling voice boomed from the speakers.
“You set him up to this?” Maya asked me surprisingly. “Kobby, you are a genius.” She squeezed my profile in a hug as my eyes were glued onto the stage.
Suddenly the voice was backed with an overly made-up face of the Dean of Students dressed like the fame monster—a pin-up dress for his over-bulbous figure, see-through gold shimmering tights for his massive black thighs and the most shocking and daring of all… the ice-cream cone brassiere! He was certainly so not uncomfortable because he hadn’t got any boobs and was jumping on stage like Gaga.
“I’ve got no service in my phone ring ringing…”
The crowd was already dancing before he launched into chorus. And so was I and Maya, fiercely barking the lyrics in each other’s face.
“You didn’t tell me he was quite the act!” Maya yelled at me to interrupt our singing.
“I didn’t know until now!—Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, ma telephone…”
Oh my God, all this was distracting, I only realized when my eyes fell on the rapist. My heart skipped a beat. Oh, Christ what was he doing? Surely serial rapists did not dance? My eyes fell on something he kept his gaze on… Aha! I figured the puzzle. So here it is: When do serial rapists dance? Serial rapists danced when they were on the dancefloor… staring at their potential victims dancing too. A few metres away from him was Mandy, and she was dancing like there was no tomorrow. Sad, if I wasn’t here to look after her before she’d realize there’d be a tomorrow she’d have been raped and sexually abused a second time into this tomorrow.
I gave Maya the ‘I’d be right back’ dance move, I presumed. It had something to do with wagging your index finger to denote you’d be back in a sec, and Maya understood. I danced my way through the crowd to the rapist. Surely, he wasn’t going to recognize me in the hazy place—Oh, my God, but he did! I moved behind a guy moving his wrists in some of sort of dance before the rapist was sure he spotted the guy who’d been tailing him in the library. My pulse slowed a bit. That was close.
“… He’s somewhere here people.” My attention switched to the Dean of Students who wasn’t singing anymore but speaking. “I need the guy who inspired me to bring my act to this stage right with me.”
Oh shoot! If I covered my ears and la-la-la’d as I bobbed my head, I wasn’t going to hear him request for me. Except when you were frequently bobbing your head and la-la-la-ing when everyone was silent looking out for you it wasn’t really ideal. The guy I was dancing behind turned to me. “Not me,” I said, and dashed off elsewhere before I could be identified as this Kobby guy the Dean of students was shouting for.
Oh, my God… where the hell was the rapist? Where was Mandy? I couldn’t see the two anywhere. I had lost them. My gaze spun around the crowd. Oh finally… I spotted the two moving to another side of the auditorium. Mandy was moving and the rapist was in pursuit too. I could follow them too.
I took one step, two steps, and… there was a spotlight shining on me! This cannot be happening! I could have cursed the day I was born, but that was going too far? I thought to myself in dread, if I quickened my steps surely this spotlight would be off me. Before I could move any faster…
“Ladies, and gentlemen,” the disembodied voice that introduced the Dean to the stage spoke, “there’s Kobby.”
The people nearest to me grabbed me and lifted me up. All hands were up ready to hold me and deposit me onto the stage.
“Yeah, people! That’s him!” The Dean of Students stood on the edge of the stage, shrieking in excitement waiting for me to be brought to him.
My heart was pounding against my chest. Why was this happening to me? Was it so wrong to encourage someone to follow their dreams? My gaze moved up to the upper wing where the spotlight was shooting out from. Celeste, standing by the DJ who I presumed to be the disembodied voice, gave me a thumbs-up.
“Kobby, show them what I passed on to ya mama!”
Was that Grannie-Grandma beneath me? Who cared? I was a vision up there, with my face projected on the monster screen looking like I was about to pee on myself. I hoped I was the only one who knew I really was about to pee on myself.
I was brought to the stage with a thud, and a mike from a string above dangled right at my face. I stared at the crowd, I stared at the Dean. Oh my guts, I was going to be sick! I was going to embarrass myself in front of the whole student population as a diva.
“You didn’t think I’d do this alone, didn’t you?” The Dean of Students was speaking. And all I was thinking of was, Christ it is so wrong for a person with that much makeup on to sound like a man. “It’s a duet, Kobs. Oh, would you do me the favour of singing Beyoncé’s part?”
It would have been a different thing if he’d asked that question in the confines of his office, where I could have said no and told him to go get an identifiable gender! But with all these people around cheering me on even when they didn’t know me… a shot of adrenalin juiced through my veins.
I grabbed the mike from its string. “Only my friends call me, Kobs.” I barked in his face and began belting out Beyoncé’s part of the song before I changed my mind, “The way you
blowing up my phone won’t make me leave no faster…”
Don’t ask me how but I transitioned into a goddess on that stage. This beats looking in your mirror and singing in the confines of your room with your hairbrush. I was doing my best imitation of what Beyoncé would have done. Shaking what my mama gave me like granny shouted from beneath. Shaking my non-existent boobs like Maya roared me on to do. And I didn’t need to feel odd, because the crowd was cheering me on every step of the way. I could do this all night, but… holyshit, what a view up here! I could totally sing and shake and prance about the stage, pulling off the Dean of Student’s blonde wig onto my head while I spied on the rapist and Mandy.
I think for a while I lost focus as the rapist spotted me up on the stage, I tensed and was
probably belting Arabic into the mike, before the Dean of Students pulled my face towards his and began yelling the lyrics of the song into my face. “Put my coat on faster, leave my boys no faster…” I got on with my act and together we were yelling at each other’s faces. Though I couldn’t help but think the rapist had noticed me. Though you couldn’t really do much thinking with a man whose face had been repeatedly banged into a makeup kit yelling in your face. I began to laugh at how ridiculous he looked and if my bowels were not strong enough I would have crapped myself on stage. Shit, that would have been… “I should have left my phone at home, ‘cos this is a disaster! Calling like a collector! Sorry I cannot answer!”
“Woo!” The crowd cheered us on as we’d finished our song and finally I was let off the stage.
I was back to tailing the rapist as Celeste was giving a speech about slut-shaming.
“So slut-shaming recently had a girl almost dying on this campus…”
Preach on, Celeste! While I figure out why this rapist is intently listening along with everybody. Shouldn’t he be looking for his victim?
“… and it wasn’t a nice scene to think something like that would happen to a community we claim to… live on love.”
I know the love you are talking about, Celeste. And it’s not the kind of love this rapist certainly has for the girl he’s ogling at. Why doesn’t he attack Mandy already so I could just pounce on him?
“You might argue from all angles that she’s a slut, she was caught wearing… wearing that.”
Celeste looked down at each and every one of the thousand heads below her. Her gaze making each of them feel important as though she was speaking directly to them. If only I focused more I guessed I would have felt important too. But was the rapist feeling important? Smug that he’d caused rape-shaming, I kept my gaze on him as he sipped a cocktail. You didn’t really identify killer instinct staring at someone’s profile.
“… but whatever you say, she was wronged. And she doesn’t need to deal with anymore embarrassment after being… wronged.” A few people nodded. Grannie-Grandma could be seen wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. Sandra Buttock, campus favourite TV personality with a bottom the size of Everest jabbed my grandma in the ribs for being such a wimp. “I,” Celeste raised up her hand, “pledge not to slut-shame anymore. If you all do, put up your hands and pledge against slut-shaming…”
Before everyone could bid to Celeste’s request, the room went dark. Completely. Like I-couldn’t-see-the-rapist-anymore dark. What the… everyone was humming in surprise as I was. “What is happening? What is going on?”
Suddenly, the room filled with noise similar to what you’d pick up at a zoo. Elephants were moaning, monkeys were jeering, lions were roaring…
“I used to bite my tongue and hold my breath… scared to rock the boat and make a mess…”
The auditorium became a bit visible as dim lights illuminated the stage. Celeste was found swirling left-right in hopes of finding the owner of the voice that was slowly approaching the stage in a direction that couldn’t be told.
It wasn’t long before the crowd found out whoever was singing Katy Perry, and because they were still curious as to identity this singer they anxiously clapped within parameters of her singing. I was also curious and surprisingly so was… wait, I saw Mandy! Where was the rapist? I searched around fearfully.
“You held me down, but I got up—”
“HEY!” The crowd played their part as backup.
I wormed through the crowd, tip-toeing above the audience as Celeste was ridiculously mouthing the words to a song she didn’t know feeling awkward she was on stage with the owner of the voice nowhere in sight. I figured during the same time I was thinking where the hell was the rapist, she was thinking the same for this anonymous singer.
“I see it all, I see it now…”
The crowd gasped as legs from above kicked Celeste off the stage.
“I’ve got the eye of the tiger, a tiger…” There was Maya all up in a costume similar to the one the original singer had used in her video, singing, “… dancing through the fire, ‘cos I am a champion—“
“AND YOU’RE GONNA HEAR ME ROOAAAAARRR!” The audience joined in.
For a while I was stunned by Maya’s vocals and reeled in by her stage act I forgot my little dilemma. Celeste was beneath the stage cussing and showing Maya the finger angrily. I couldn’t help but guffaw and join the audience, “ROOOOOAAAAAARRR!!!”
TYPING: The dark has become an energy more powerful than light. We hide in the dark and do things we do not want people to see…
Celeste pushed through the crowd angrily, head-butting people who were not willing to cooperate all the while yelling at the top of her lungs. She met me with the fiercest face. I stepped back for a second, afraid she was going to head-butt me as well. Until she recognized me.
“ROOOOAAAARRR!” The audience went off with Maya once again that Celeste had to shout so I heard a thing she was saying.
“She was supposed to wait for me, Kobs!” She yelled in my face as we watched Maya on the stage. “Then in the middle of my speech—“ I wanted to correct her but I hesitated. I didn’t know about the eye, but I was certain she had the look of a tigress.
“Not the middle, Celeste.” Raymond was beside me before I knew it. “You were almost done.”
“It doesn’t change the fact that she swung across me and kicked me off!” She yelled at my roommate, her ex. “I was about doing the most important part of my speech, tell him Kobs!”
“Yes she—“ My voice was lost in another roar from the audience.
“Anyway suck it up,” Raymond said dismissively. “You cannot kill her for being loved by her audience.”
“Oh, watch me!” She yelled at his retreating back.
TYPING: But we forget unlike light, the dark stays for a relatively shorter time…
“Look at her,” Celeste pointed a girl who was really crying as she sung along with the star on the stage. “I cannot believe people are so into her—“ she reached for her subject and yelled in her face—“Hey, why don’t you crap you pants? It lasts longer!”
The girl fought herself off Celeste’s hold to resume backing her favourite artiste.
“Anyway,” Celeste turned to me humming Maya’s song. “How’s your search for the rapist?”
My lids shot open that instant. Oh no… how could I have forgotten? I looked around for the rapist. But I couldn’t find him anywhere around. Though what I saw shocked me.
TYPING: … and whatever we do in the dark…
“Mandy?” I yelled at the petite girl who was crawling among people who were pissed over their eyeballs singing raucously to know someone was hurting beneath them.
“Mandy!” Celeste and I took off to the cowering girl over the floor.
We pushed through the mostly drunk crowd. And we were so relieved for a second this girl wasn’t Mandy. But our relief died down the second we realized this girl had her panties pushed down her heels.
TYPING: …whatever we hide in the dark…
I got up from crouching position as Celeste spoke to the victim in pain. My neck span around the crowd in directions I never knew it could twist to. Where the hell was this rapist?
Maya grounded to an end. The crowd cheered her. The bright lights came back on.
My eyes fell on Mandy first. And I found my target. Though I was all too surprised he was shoving his tongue down Mandy’s throat.
TYPING: … would be brought to light.
Author’s Note: Ok, so now you’ve found out Sex and The City Campus wouldn’t be up every Saturday. So sorry for the delay! Three days! Should be hanged! Anyway, I hope I made you laugh! God knows, how I had to yank this out of my super-exhausted mind! Love y’all! As always comment here or feedback to email@example.com (Mostly if you are looking for a reply, use the email, as I’m not regularly online and cannot guarantee that I would even moderate your comments to type up replies to them—super sorry for this!)
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