Authors: Stephanie Perry Moore
Got It Going On (6 page)
Calmer, I said, “I hope so. I'm new at this Christian thing, but it's real to me. I feel different, and I don't want to mess up or to have my heart go back to the way it used to be. I don't want to let God down, and maybe that's why I'm here tonight. I'm staying connected with the Lord and just talking to Him.”
“Reading the Word and being with other believers is definitely a step in the right direction. We all fall shortâkeep that in mind. God's not asking you to be perfect but to have a heart that wants to please Him,” he said as his mesmerizing dark brown eyes held mine. He reached over and touched my cheek. My knees felt weak. He just seemed too good to be true. Surely too nice to be into me.
I found a way to smile and not take it all so seriously. I didn't know how we were connecting in that moment, but we were. After Al Dutch, I didn't think I'd feel anything for a male again. But just to have Konner listen and point me back to God impacted me greatly and made me feel glorious.
6
PITIFUL
K
onner had a unique way of ministering to young adults. It was Halloween night. People were dressed up as their favorite characters, idols, and celebrities. In stark contrast, his sermon was about how fake and unreal we are with God and how we sometimes try to mask and hide what is going on with us instead of being authentic and letting it all out to the Man above.
onner had a unique way of ministering to young adults. It was Halloween night. People were dressed up as their favorite characters, idols, and celebrities. In stark contrast, his sermon was about how fake and unreal we are with God and how we sometimes try to mask and hide what is going on with us instead of being authentic and letting it all out to the Man above.
He preached, “If you really wanna get close to the Lord and grow in your walk with God, give Him all that's weighing you down so that you can be free to soar and be about His business. The baggage and hurt that we carry stick so deep in our minds that we don't even realize how it's hindering us from being used by the Lord.”
Just as the first skit about the girl who'd been raped had moved me and mirrored my situation, I braced myself as I watched another powerful drama. Only this time the skit involved a maleâa male who was going through a scene in which he just couldn't remember what had happened to him. Why was he so distant? Why couldn't he love? And why couldn't he give God his all? When the choir came on and sang the song of healing, I just knew God was speaking to my soul.
Later on that night when I went home, I had some real soul-searching to do. I got down on my knees, and I silently prayed,
Lord, there's a lot in my past that has led me to a life full of turmoil and sin. And to get stronger and to deal with it, I just sort of partied my cares away. I'm ready to love You with my whole heart, but something is holding me back. Help me to dig deep and find out what it is. I'm pledging a sorority, but I'm still a little cold to the other girls. I just need Your help, Lord. I just need Your assistance to learn what I may have gone through that has made me this way.
Lord, there's a lot in my past that has led me to a life full of turmoil and sin. And to get stronger and to deal with it, I just sort of partied my cares away. I'm ready to love You with my whole heart, but something is holding me back. Help me to dig deep and find out what it is. I'm pledging a sorority, but I'm still a little cold to the other girls. I just need Your help, Lord. I just need Your assistance to learn what I may have gone through that has made me this way.
Over the next three nights, God heard my plea because He showed up in my dreams and made me unable to sleep. I kept seeing images of a little girl in a closet with an older man. I couldn't see faces. I couldn't see body parts. I could see only darkness. Why did it hurt so badly?
We had one more Gem ceremony to go, and I was supposed to be there. However, when I realized that the little girl in the images was me and over the years I had blocked out something so bad, I just started shaking all over. I was so angry! I was confused as to who the man was. Was it one of my mom's boyfriends who had abused me? Was I abused by a stranger? Until I sorted all this out, I couldn't move. I had to deal with my demons and face the truth.
I thought I heard Sam banging on my door for me to come out so we could head over to the ceremony. However, I placed a pillow over my head and tried to block out the irritating noise. If the Betas dropped me, so be it, but in my frail state I would be no good to them if I went. I didn't think I was crazy, I just felt like I was strung out on drugs or something.
I couldn't help but cry out, “Lord, you're supposed to help! This hurts too badly. Why can't I make out what happened? With You by my side I can handle anything, right? Then help me. Please, Father.”
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My forehead and body were exploding with sweat. I lifted up the window to catch a breeze. As the day turned into the night, I desperately needed to seek out answers.
“Cassidy, you're just a trip, only caring about yourself. You do whatever you wanna do, coming to practice when you please. You tell all of us we have to be there, and you don't even show up. We know you're on line, but homecoming is coming up, and we don't wanna do the same ol' routine,” Ginger whined into the answering machine as I half listened, still in a dazed state.
Whatever she was saying didn't phase me. It certainly didn't move me to pick up the phone for her. As much as the band meant to me, I couldn't deal with them right now.
Her voice continued into the machine. “If you don't get down here I'm going to teach the routine, and I'm going to tell the band directorâ”
The paused intrigued me, yet I was so weak I couldn't make out what was happening. All of a sudden I heard noises inside my place, and I thought I heard Sam's voice coming through the machine. “Ginger, wait, wait. This is her roommate, Sam. She hasn't been with us, and I was hoping she was at band practice.”
Next thing I knew, Isha was standing in my face with a straightened-out hanger in her hand. I guess she'd picked my lock. Sam was right next to her holding our phone as Ginger continued carrying on.
“She's in here!” Isha called out.
I was so down and depressed I was having an out-of-body experience. My room was filled with my line sisters, yet I still felt like I was all alone. Isha lifted my head, and when she let go, it fell again.
“Unless she's in the hospital,” Ginger's voice continued through the receiver, “I'm reporting her, and she's gonna lose her position as captain. He might just kick her off the team altogether. Ain't nothing wrong with her. And if it is, what have y'all Pis been letting the Betas do to you guys anyway? Something illegal?”
“Okay, that's it. This chick is starting to get on my last nerve. All in our business and stuff,” Cheryl said, frustrated with Ginger's attitude. Cheryl bent down, and tears started coming from her eyes. I must have been in bad shape for Cheryl to break down like this. When I didn't respond, Cheryl said, “Come on, Cassidy. So many people need you. What's wrong, girl?”
Isha said, “I just don't like this, you guys.”
Cheryl grabbed my arm and quickly let it go. “Man, she's completely cold. Looks like she hasn't bathed either. Shut that window. She's freezing. Pis, we gotta help our line sister.”
I felt covers around me and someone touching my feet. I felt so much care and concern, but I was too far gone to appreciate it. What was wrong with me?
“Oh! It stinks in here, guys. Look at the mess she's made. We gotta get her to the tub,” Isha said when the covers on my bed were peeled back.
“Hold on, now. I ain't doing all that,” Cheryl said.
“Well, I'll help clean her up,” Isha volunteered.
When they lifted me up I didn't make a fuss. I didn't say stop, leave me alone, get out. Nothing. I was still stuck in a daze. I wasn't drugged up, but again, it sure did feel like I was on some weird high or low.
An hour went by. I was clean and dry, and I was staring at a fresh bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of me. Bad as my stomach wanted it, my hands just couldn't lift the spoon to feed myself.
“Y'all think she's on drugs?” Sam asked in a caring tone.
“This is really scary,” Isha said as she walked over and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Come on, Cassidy. Please talk to us and tell us what's wrong.”
How could I tell them what was wrong when I didn't know myself? We had lost three line sisters, and we were desperately trying to bond. I was an only child, and I longed for sisterhood so I could be around a family that truly cared for me. I sat there unable to communicate with themâto reach out and thank them for not giving up on me.
Cheryl, in particular, was being very motherly. When I wasn't eating, she was practically forcing the fluids down my throat. The girls were getting on her about making certain I did not choke. Cheryl replied, “Don't worry. I got this. We're gonna get her well. Something traumatic has caused her to freak out like this. She needs us.”
“Should we call the paramedics? The police? We can't keep letting her respond to us like this. What if somebody really did give her something? What if she's in pain?” Isha asked, pacing tensely around the place.
When I saw two tears slowly drop, one from Isha and one from Sam, I uttered, “I'm okay.”
I spoke in such a whisper they couldn't even hear what I said. They knew I was saying something. And though I gave only a small response, I knew my line sisters were grateful. As Cheryl held my hand, I felt thankful. Someway, somehow we were going to figure out my issues together.
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After eating the whole bowl of soup, I felt better. Physically, at least. Mentally, I was still very torn. Emotionally, I was ecstatic to have my line sisters surrounding me in the apartment I shared with Sam. Thank goodness it was clean. But inwardly I was still struggling with a lot.
The nonsense that had happened at the beginning of the school year with Al Dutch had taken such a terrible toll on me I hadn't even realized how fragile and unwound I truly was. Though I longed to forget the terrible attack, my mind kept bringing back remnants of it. Feeling like my head was gonna explode, I was completely overwhelmed.
“What about our chapter adviser? If you don't talk to us, Cassidy, will you talk to Dr. Garnes? She's a psychiatrist. She could really help you.” I could not give Isha an answer either way.
Cheryl took Isha by the arm and dragged her to the other side of the room. The two were conversing as if I weren't there. Actually, I guess I wasn't there.
“Girl, she doesn't need to see a shrink! I know what's going on. She lost her boyfriend,” Cheryl said, thinking she had my issues pegged.
“What? What do you mean she lost her boyfriend?” Isha asked with a shriveled-up face, not believing Cheryl knew what she was talking about.
Cheryl confessed, “She was dating Al Dutch, but he's with me now. That's right, when I leave from pledging with y'all, I'm with him. Things are getting really intense between us.”
I picked up the now empty soup bowl and threw it across the room. I was beyond shocked. I mean, come on. If it wasn't me, it was Ginger, Meagan, Torian, and now Cheryl. This guy was going to keep up his dirty work of scrambling through us women unless I said something. And if he did to them what he did to me and I kept quiet, I couldn't live with myself.
Cheryl began pacing back and forth. “See, I knew that's what it was. Sam, did you tell her I was with Al? That's what's going on with her. You must've blabbed.”
“I didn't say anything,” Sam defended. “Why would I tell Cassidy? I told you Al Dutch needs to be left alone.”
The two of them started arguing. I knew Sam wanted to tell Cheryl more about Al Dutch but could not because she was keeping my confidence. With my hands to my face, I started crying.
“It's hot,” I said in a weak tone.
Sam cleared everyone out of the apartment. Without even knowing it, I was rocking back and forth, and Isha helped me over to our cozy sofa. Cheryl wanted to stay because she felt responsible. And I didn't want her to go. I needed to get some information to her, but the words wouldn't come out. What was going on with me that allowed me to punk out?
Somehow someone got in touch with Dr. Garnes because she was ushered into the apartment with Sam, heading straight toward me. I didn't want to end up in some mental hospital with padded walls and straitjackets, but something was deeply wrong. I was so upset, so confused, so depressed, so down I was doing things I didn't know I was capable of. If a shrink or medical help could bring me back around, bring it on.
“I don't like making house calls like this: seeing patients at home can sometimes be tricky. I don't wanna lose my license, but to you girls my attention is immediately given, being that I am the adviser for this chapter. So, Sam, I'm going to ask you to be a witness, and if you feel that Cassidy is uncomfortable, you make the call to stop this session. Cassidy, it's Dr. Garnes. Would you like to talk to me?” she asked, and I nodded. “Good. I'm going to ask Sam to fix you some herbal tea. Because you're already sitting on the couch, I'm going to ask you to lie down. Sam, I'm also going to need a washcloth, and make it hot.”
After drinking the hot tea and relaxing, I felt like I was in some sauna at the spa. It took Dr. Garnes forty-five minutes to get me to respond to her. When I finally opened up, I just let it all hang out.
Exhilarated, I spilled one deep word after another. “Something happened to me when I was a child. Either I don't remember, or I don't wanna remember, but it just surfaced to me, and it's making me go bonkers. I mean, one minute I'm lucid, and the next minute I'm totally insane. I need help badly. I'm so sorry I made it hard for my line sisters.”
“Cassidy, it's okay. You didn't make it hard for anybody. Tell me what's been going on. We need to figure all this out,” Dr. Garnes said as she took notes.
Grabbing her sleeve, I said, “I need you to keep this to yourself.”
“Would you like for Sam, Isha, and Cheryl to leave?” Dr. Garnes asked, assuming I needed privacy.
“No, she can stay, but I need this not to be repeated.” Dr. Garnes nodded and gave me the assurance that talking would help. “A couple months ago I was raped. I think one of my mom's boyfriends raped me when I was young, too. The memories of both horrible events keep plaguing my brain. I don't know how to deal with all this. I feel so sorry for myself right now. I'm pitiful.”
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