Who Gets Less Hurt?

“Are you coming tonight?”

Makeup was on the bathroom cabinet and mirror. Smudged on the floor tile. She must’ve stepped in something.

“No, sorry.”

This wasn’t the first time. “Why?”

“Homework,” Sasha replied simply.

She frowned. “What, English?”

“Mm.”

The floorboards creaked slightly in the doorframe. Lindsay leaned out to meet her eyes. “What’s going on?”

Sasha shrugged. She was sitting on the couch. “Does there have to be something?”

Lindsay walked down the hall to find her shoes. The fluffy blue carpet pilled under her bare feet. Her lavender nails glittered. “No.”

“Then there’s nothing.”

Lindsay peered into Sasha’s room as she left her own, holding a pair of black heels. She took in the details, the framed, pressed flowers on her walls, the lavender on her nightstand. The quilt on Sasha’s bed. Her grandmother had sewn that for her. Lindsay had seen it more lately and it worried her for some reason.

She sighed. “Alright.”

College parties were honestly overrated, but Lindsay tended to go anyway. She often went alone, or with some girl she barely knew, to stand around and pretend to have fun. In truth, she didn’t believe anyone had fun in situations like those. Knowing that made the whole thing a bit less painful.

She could always stay in her dorm, away from the alcohol and and assault, but Sasha wasn’t exactly a social person, so she would be left to her thoughts. Lindsay liked parties because she couldn’t think about anything when she was there. There was too much to focus on, to distract herself with. She wondered, if she was locked up in her dorm, what she would do to herself. Her mind was her worst fear.

So despite the brief consideration of her options, Lindsay felt too nervous to jump from her comfort zone. She took her purse and mace and sweater and left the dorm.

Hallways are quiet. Eerily so. Lindsay wasn’t usually superstitious, but the hallways here were dark enough that she crossed the fingers on her right hand down this first passage. The stairwell, too—it was steep.

What Lindsay couldn’t map, Lindsay didn’t like. Parties were predictable in that weird, unpredictable kind of way. She could stand in the corner and watch the drama unfold from a distance, unaffected. Quiet places were unpredictable. They were innocent to the point of non-innocence—although she wondered often if that made sense in anyone’s head besides hers.

Sasha seemed entirely content with quiet. She seemed fine with keeping herself to herself, with keeping her problems below the surface. In her head. In many ways, Lindsay was envious, even though she knew that Sasha was going through something and it was probably a million times worse than she could imagine.

Was that selfish of her?

She was going to this party with a girl from the floor below theirs. Her name was Hazel. Lindsay got a glimpse of her through the window as she walked down to the main common space—she was wearing a very skimpy red dress and black heels. Good luck not getting sexually assaulted, Lindsay thought. She hated to victim-blame, but at this point she wondered how a girl wasn’t asking for it when she wore something like that to a college party.

“Hey!” Hazel said as Lindsay stepped outside. She tucked her caramel hair behind her ear. Her nails were red, complexion pale.

“Hey,” Lindsay replied.

“Ready to go?”

“Yep.”

Wordlessly, the two walked to the Lyft Hazel had called. The driver was male. Lindsay had heard stories of women getting attacked by Lyft drivers, and she wondered what would’ve happened to Hazel if Lindsay hadn’t been there.

It was at this point that Lindsay realized she was going to be Hazel’s bodyguard for the night. This wasn’t the first time she had given herself this job. Despite the fact that she barely knew Hazel, and really didn’t want to be held accountable if the girl did get hurt, she couldn’t just let her go to the party alone. If they genuinely don’t have the brain capacity to be any smarter, stupid people shouldn’t get punished for being stupid. Maybe it was good that Lindsay had chosen to come.

“So,” Hazel began. “Any plans for Spring Break?”

“Yeah.” She fiddled with her purse strap. “Going up to New York to visit people. Got a lot of family up there.”

“Mm.” She nodded, looked out the window with stupid eyes. “I’m going to Canada. My aunt lives there, and we haven’t seen each other in a while. She’s really cool.”

“What’s she like?”

“Weird,” Hazel laughed. “She likes to garden, and knit…basically everything great-aunts do. But she has this really dry sense of humor…we get along well.”

“That’s good,” Lindsay said. “Both of my great aunts passed away when I was little, so I don’t really remember them. But my aunt on my mom’s side is really nice. She lives in California. I’m gonna visit her this summer.”

“I’ve never been to California,” Hazel said. “Don’t really know anyone there…I grew up in Texas.”

“It’s pretty,” Lindsay replied, thoughtful. “Lots of palm trees. Kind of like Florida, but a lot more dry. Everyone glorifies it, though. It’s like half of LA is for rich people and half of it is low-income or homeless families.”

“Hmm.”

A few more minutes of silence, and they arrived at the off-campus house. This was one of those parties where no one actually knew the host, it had probably been arranged by a fraternity, and most of the attendees were just hoping to get drunk. Lindsay was actually kind of excited that she had a purpose this time.

It was already dark outside. Lindsay checked her phone; the time read 7:00 PM. She would stay until ten, but she guessed that most would be there all night. Some people were standing on the lawn. There were a few girls who had been smart enough to dress conservatively, with longer skirts, dresses or jumpsuits, but the rest were no different from Hazel. By the looks of things, ‘the rest’ were a bunch of sheltered rich kids.

Most of the boys were wearing sweatpants and t-shirts. It was odd how girls dressed up for these things and boys just threw on what was there.

Hazel saw one of her friends, a girl in a white dress who Lindsay vaguely recognized, and ran over to her. Lindsay followed her closely.

“Hazel! I’m so happy you came,” the girl giggled, drawing out the last word as she hugged her friend. “Who’s this?”

“Lindsay,” Hazel said. “She’s on the floor above us.”

“Nice to meet you,” white-dress girl said, holding out her hand. “I’m Amelia.”

Lindsay shook her hand. Amelia was wearing pink nail polish. Silver earrings. Her dress fell only to her upper thigh, and was sleeveless and deep-cut across the chest. Lindsay decided to give up on her and focus on protecting Hazel.

“…this is Mark.”

Amelia was introducing them to someone. He was tall, kind of muscular, with dark hair. He was eyeing Hazel, so Lindsay took a step closer to her and gave Mark a death stare. He caught her eye and looked at his shoes.

“You wanna get drinks?” Hazel asked the group. Amelia and Mark brightened, and Lindsay followed them inside. The death stare was only a warning, and she had known enough people like Mark to tell it wouldn’t do much.

Out of place among the other three, Lindsay decided to take a step back from the group. She found a corner and sipped her water, watching them from afar. Mark kept an eye on her, too, glancing over constantly to see if she was still watching.

At some point during the night, when it was almost ten and Lindsay was getting ready to leave, Mark and Hazel disappeared. It occurred to Lindsay that this probably would have happened anyway, after she left, so it wasn’t really her job to stay, but her strict morals kicked in, and she found herself pushing her way through the crowd to find Hazel. She checked the downstairs bathroom first—empty—and then the bedrooms upstairs. No Hazel. Lindsay fingered the strap on her purse again, starting to panic. She was standing in the upstairs hallway, hoping to hear something, but the music downstairs was loud enough that she couldn’t even hear herself breathe. There was a fifth door down the hall. Another bathroom? She knocked.

“Someone’s in here.” That was definitely Mark.

“Is Hazel there?” Lindsay asked. “We’re meeting some friends kind of early tomorrow morning, so we need to leave now.”

After a few seconds, the door opened, and Hazel was shoved out of the room. She seemed angry. Lindsay walked her downstairs and out of the house as fast as she could. “Let’s walk home,” she said.

“Why did you do that?” Hazel muttered. “I was fine.” She glared at the concrete, but after a minute, the expression melted and she started to cry.

“You shouldn’t go to parties anymore,” Lindsay said. “They’re not safe.”

“You go to parties,” Hazel choked.

“I never let any guy get close with me,” she said. “I don’t wear short skirts, I don’t drink, and I never go anywhere without a friend. I’m not trying to blame you, but with stuff like this, it’s kind of our job to stay safe.”

Hazel nodded.

After a while, they got back on campus. The light from Lindsay’s dorm came into view. It was probably 10:30 now, and through the glass walls, she could see a few kids studying in the common space. It all seemed oddly calm, in stark contrast with the party’s flashy lighting and loud music, and she found herself wanting to join them.

At the stairwell inside, they parted ways. Lindsay reminded Hazel to drink some water, and to tell a faculty member what had happened.

Lindsay walked up to her room. The hallway seemed less scary than before. She didn’t bother crossing her fingers when Hazel would be having nightmares for the next week.

She opened the door and left her shoes in the hall. They were low heels, but her feet still ached. She went to the bathroom and took a shower. Something in her felt pleased. She had stopped something.

Lindsay brushed her teeth and changed into her pajamas, an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts. She braided her hair. And then she went to check on Sasha.

There was a glass of water and an empty pill bottle on the night stand. Lindsay froze, staring at the body in the quilt.