Things That Didn’t Happen – Sybil Rain
March 2, 2021
Hank didn’t really rape me, he just stuck some fingers in when he was blackout drunk on the floor mattress. If I had been as drunk as he was I wouldn’t have even remembered it the next day. My friend Chloe said that still counts as rape, just putting the fingers in, and when she said that I suddenly felt like I had been raped, and it felt good, a powerful feeling. I wanted to tell more people about it. So I did.
Those two tweakers in that hotel room didn’t inject me and Fern with AIDS blood. But what a story that turned into! Everybody wanted to know all about my super sweet seroconversion nightmare. But it never happened. Sigh. Sorry! More fake news from that teenage tranny methwhore America loves to hate. Me and Fern actually got AIDS the old fashioned way, spit for lube and blowing loads up each other’s guts. It’s less romantic that way. Or maybe it’s actually more romantic. Whatever floats your boat. I don’t fucking know. Overall it was and continues to be pretty mundane. Boring, like everything. Yawn.
Princess didn’t turn into a lizard and choke me out and spit in my face. Pussy didn’t turn into a demon and roll around on the floor. Princess didn’t say she would burn the squat down if I tried to make her leave. I must have imagined it all. I’m ready to say that now even if it’s not true. Because even if it is true it’s not worth all the fucking drama. I’ll admit I’m wrong about anything now, even if I’m right. Just to make everyone leave me alone. If you learn one thing from this, let it be that. To really shut them up, say fuck your pride. Just let them be right. That’s how you really win.
Peach didn’t try to kill herself with Adderall, and I shouldn’t have gone along with saying she did. In my defense I didn’t have anywhere else to fucking go just then, so I needed to let her have that one if I didn’t want to sleep on a pile of dirty needles in the bushes by the Chelsea Pier. Again. But also did anyone actually believe her? I mean, I guess she really committed to the lie. She bought a plane ticket and flew to Albuquerque and checked herself into rehab just so she could pretend she’d OD’d on kiddie speed in a fit of jealous rage. That takes dedication. If you force yourself to believe a lie you’ve told, other people will believe it too I guess. Personally I was excited when Peach left because I thought with her gone for thirty days I could smoke a pound of crystal and fuck a shitload of hot guys in the clamshell bed, but she checked herself back out again when they wouldn’t let her keep her pills. I mean, dude, it’s fucking rehab. I ended up only screwing one guy in the clam, and he only had weed. He was hot though, and a tweaker, just broke. He brought me Little Caesar’s but then when we got hungry later I had to spot him for Taco Bell. I deserve much better, I thought.
That other dude who I said raped me? That was a lie, too. I just told the cops that because I didn’t want to get charged for all the damage to the hotel room. So I lied to the cops, and then, while they were pulling shit-covered enemas and shattered crack pipes out of the garbage can in the bathroom, I texted my mom and told her the same thing. Some asshole drugged and raped me in a hotel room so I’m going to miss my bus. Can you pick me up at 8 instead of 4? I don’t know why I told her that. I guess I thought it was about time I got some fucking attention for a change.