"The sweetness was turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty,
                             and the purity to voluptuous wantonness."
                                                                                                --Bram Stoker, Dracula

            It didn’t take me long to realize and accept the end was near; it wasn’t about to stop dead in its tracks anytime soon. My heart slammed against my chest as I tried to get the images in my mind to stop spinning, just for a second.  Thoughts conquered vision as I felt the blood rush to my head.
            There was no way this could be happening. No, these sorts of things don’t “just happen” to girls like me. How was I supposed to explain this to Mom? Or Dad? I couldn’t. This wasn’t real. I’d been dreaming. This was all just another one of my vivid, crazy nightmares…
            Acting on an impulse, my eyelids crashed together feverishly in order to make my dream-theory more believable. The cool sand underneath me did not fade away, and it became obvious that the mocking roar of the tide wasn’t going to end.
            This was reality.
            I’d heard stories about these sorts of things; girls sneaking out and never returning home, without that being their original intentions. The chilling newspaper headlines were hard to forget; there had been a couple recent stories about it on the evening news. My mom didn’t let me watch that kind of stuff though, “too much violence.”
            My mother. What if earlier this evening had been the last chance I had to say good-bye to her?
            It was around that thought that terror and pity were triggered to flood my crippled body; filling each limb with fear. The idea that my face could, and more than likely would, soon be replacing another girl’s obituary was way too much to bear. The older reporter with the disastrous combover would be the one to let my name roll off of his tongue with a gentle pitch, as an attempt to keep the pain my parents were feeling to a minimum. It seemed as though the news station always put him in charge of reading the stories about murders and kidnappings because he had the most soothing voice. You could hardly even recognize the fact that he was reading off names of the deceased; it always sounded like he was reading a bedtime story, or reciting Shakespeare, or something.
            Now that I thought about it, could I even remember one of the names he read off, respectably? Their faces were blurred; I couldn’t make out a single one of them.
            I’d become one of those forgotten souls. Soon enough, I would be remembered as the black and white school photo that grew fainter and fainter in the memories of strangers with each new day. Soon the neighbors would be exchanging puzzled faces; “Grace who?”
            I wasn’t going to die like this. I wouldn’t allow it. My mind ordered my legs to lift my body and carry me all the way to my brick house, but they failed to respond. It took me a minute to realize my body was motionless. This could have been a response from the attack, or an even scarier thought, maybe something had been tainted in my body.
            For a moment, I tried to imagine what I looked like, lying limp on an abandoned beach. My braided pigtails, that I had begged my mother to style for me, were undone, that was for sure—I could feel my chocolate brown hair whipping wildly against my cheeks from the sea breeze. My bottom lip stung; I imagined it had been split open during the struggle.
            The struggle.
            Suddenly, I felt a chill rush down my spine, and my heart rate quickened. Even if I had felt strong enough to crank my neck and look around me, I wouldn’t have out of fear. Instead, I moved my eyes stealthily from left to right, examining my surroundings. Where was he?
            I stopped breathing for a moment; trying to disguise myself as a corpse in case he came back looking for a final battle. However, my heart thumping against my weak chest sounded like a booming tympani drum and I figured he would have pounced by now because of the noise it was causing. Cautiously, I allowed the air to release from my chest.
            He was gone. I was safe.
            My heart sunk into my stomach as I realized just how empty I felt inside. Immediately, I blushed at how exposed and plump my bare body appeared in the mystical glow radiating from the moon. My clothes were in a heap somewhere down the beach, I imagined. The sore sections on my body throbbed gloomily. As my lip began to tremble, I bit it and reminded myself to be fearless. Be brave, and keep quiet, I scolded myself. Someone will find you. Someone has to find you.
            Trisha Candace, a petite blonde in my grade, had been talking about her beach party for weeks. She was the daughter of a very wealthy businessman who gave her practically anything she wanted. There hadn’t been many good parties thrown this year, and since my senior year was coming in less than a month, I was a little disappointed. So, of course when Trisha slid an invitation into my mailbox the Saturday before, I excitedly agreed to attend her get-together.
            Half of my grade had been invited to Trisha’s party. Her parents were going to be out of town, but gave her full permission to use the house as the site for her bash. However, my parents were not so lenient when it came to parties without adult supervision, so I’d conveniently “forgotten” to mention that her parents were on a business trip in Daytona Beach. I slipped out the door and into my 1987 Chevy Nova before my father had the chance to complain about the length of the dress I was wearing; a skimpy red halter that just barely skimmed my mid-thigh.
            My throat tightened when I thought about him. I missed my dad already.
            Trisha’s house was not hard to miss. Not many people had purchased the land leading off the coast of Lake Huron because it was too expensive. The fact that the beach was just a few steps away from our party location and that there weren’t any neighbors for a few miles down the road, made the night much sweeter then any other. This would be the party they’d be talking about for months. When I arrived around 8:30 (fashionably late, seeing how the party started an hour before) the sun was just beginning to fall behind the clouds. Crushed, empty beer cans were strewn across her front porch and I had to maneuver around them to ring the bell.  
            The door flew open and some kid that had been in my Calculus class fumbled to hold it open for me. “L-Look at you,” he stuttered looking me up and down as though I were some girl out of a Playboy magazine. Rolling my eyes, I pushed passed him and tried to hide the fact that he was flattered.
            The music was blaring and it was hard to see through the cigarette smoke that clouded the front room. Stumbling over intoxicated students, I made my way toward the kitchen. A couple was making out against a wall, and I had to squeeze to get into the crowded living room. While I was struggling to find some of my friends, a tap on the shoulder distracted me. I turned to meet eyes with my best friend, Warren.
            “Great party, huh?” He yelled, trying to be heard over the bass of the stereo.
            “I haven’t even been here more than two minutes!” I shouted, smiling up at him.
            He cupped his hand behind his ear to indicate he couldn’t hear me. “What?” His brown curls bounced as he nodded his head toward the backyard. “Follow me!” he shouted.
            Obediently, my hand clasped onto the bottom of his white tee shirt so as not to lose him in the crowd. He snatched two silver cans of alcohol off the granite kitchen counter and kicked open the screen door.
            The warm air hugged my skin when I stepped outside. Clumps of people stood together in their cliques; drinking and smoking. Shadows from the flames danced across the sand from the bonfire a couple of the kids were sitting by. Laughter and squeals shattered the calmness the air had and I heard the low waves burst against the shore.
            We stopped walking once we reached the wooden deck, and my hand slipped away from his shirt. Handing me a can, Warren slipped his thumb-nail under the tab and lifted it up firmly. The container hissed and he swooped down to take a swig. “Do you want me to open yours, Gracie?” Warren chortled, wrapping his arm around my waist sloppily.
            I giggled but shook my head silently. Clearly, this had not been Warren’s first beer tonight.
            “You look real good,” He winked at me, and examined my body much like the guy at the front door had.
            I felt my cheeks burn pink. “Thanks,” I embarrassedly laughed.
            “Hey, I wanna show you something down a ways,” Warren slurred.
            My teeth clenched at my recollection. How could I have been so stupid? I began to feel like one of those annoying horror movie spectators as I tried to beg my memory to change: “What are you doing? Don’t follow him! Don’t separate yourself from the rest of the group!”
            Needless to say, I ignorantly followed him like a damsel falls into the arms of Count Dracula. “Where are we going?” I asked, twisting the tips of my hair like I always do; a sure sign of nervousness.
            Warren didn’t say anything, just winked. His piercing blue eyes smiled at mine and I didn’t bother asking any questions once I felt his fingers intertwine with mine. The scene was perfect: starry sky, sandy floor, and Warren, even though he was not all there, was finally noticing me in the way I wanted him too.
            I’d gone through years of on and off feelings for him, but he’d never seemed interested. In fact, Warren had made it perfectly clear that he wanted to keep our friendship friendly, no matter how hard I tried to make it something deeper. Although, now that he was holding my hand in front of all our friends, I couldn’t help but be the tiniest bit excited.
            Hands locked together, I floated past my peers on a cloud of girlish excitement. The butterflies failed to settle in my stomach, and I failed to care. Cattails swooned in the breeze, clearly as swept off their feet as I was. I hadn’t even realized how far away we were when he stopped abruptly. How long had we been walking, anyway? Where were we? The inviting party lights were now swallowed in the night sky.
            It happened all too quickly. One minute I was looking around trying to figure out where exactly he had taken me, the next his lips were smashed against mine. The shock of the kiss cancelled out any potential excitement. I was confused, to say the least. 
            This wasn’t exactly how I had pictured my kiss with Warren when I day dreamed about it. The background was nice, sure, but whenever I pictured our first kiss I never thought his breath would be polluted with the foulness of alcohol, and his hand would not be firmly rubbing my bottom. Something about this just wasn’t…romantic.
            So, I peeled away the second I needed air. His face was still trying to press against mine, but I pushed him back. When he didn’t slow down, I pushed harder. Maybe this isn’t really what I want, I thought.  “Warren,” I started; attempting to break it to him that this just didn’t feel right. I knew I needed to tell him this either wasn’t the right moment, or that we should consider the importance of our friendship before trying the whole kissing thing again. I never got the chance.
            His lips swiftly dodged my elbow that was pressed again his chest; the only barrier separating his mouth from mine. For the second time, he kissed me. This one was not like the first however—this one scared me. Aggressively his hand locked onto the top of my neck, demanding that my lips went to work in a manner that met his satisfaction. I felt his tongue trying to poke its way through my barred teeth. I wanted to tell him to stop, but all that escaped my throat was a terrified whimper, muffled by his face.
            Warren pulled his face back for a second, collecting his breath. Beads of sweat gathered around his hairline. “Gracie,” he howled, engulfing my nose in a cloud of beer fumes. “Tell me you love me!”
            I flinched at his words and continued trying to wriggle my way out of his husky arms. His grip tightened; I felt future bruises announcing their arrival. “Warren!” my voice cracked. “Please just let me go, please! You’re drunk; you don’t know what you’re doing!” I prayed my words would make him realize he was hurting me.
            Scrunching up his face, Warren stared at me in disgust. “What the hell, Grace?” he started rocking me back and forth in his arms, as if we were dancing. His expression became carefree and cheerful again. “Lighten up and e-enjoy it,” Before I had the chance to object, his tongue was inside of my mouth, flicking around. He grunted at me to flick back. Gently and unenthusiastically, my tongue entered his mouth; mostly it just sat there, but he didn’t seem to notice.
            My thoughts were furiously flying around my mind while his tongue explored. Tell him to stop. No—just run, maybe you can outrun him. What will happen if he outruns you? You need to get back to Trisha’s and call daddy; maybe he won’t even notice the dress. He’ll be so happy you called him. But Warren will never be allowed to talk to you again if you tell mom and dad. They need to know. But they love Warren, what’s going to happen? Dad’ll kick his ****—literally. You need to run away the second you get the chance.
            Warren violently knocked me off my feet into the sand. “What are you doing?” I shrieked, startled from the fall.
            He shrugged lightheartedly, “Kissing was getting boring, don’tcha think?” My heart dropped, this was not supposed to be happening. I knew what he wanted, and I refused to give it to him. Terrified, I shouted pleas; my words running together like gibberish. I lost control of my limbs at one point, my arms flailed around hitting him and I kicked my absolute hardest. That only made him angry.
            Tightening his grip around my back, he took his free arm and slammed his hand against my mouth. “Shut up!” He shouted at me as his hand smashed my warm lips. His spit flew onto my cheek. I felt blood collecting around my teeth.
            Silently, I allowed my tears to flood down my dirtied cheeks. I kept quiet, like he had demanded, so he wouldn’t hurt me anymore. His hand loosened on my mouth, and eventually released so that it could explore. Warren grinned as his hand danced over my breasts. “What size are they?” He squeezed, childishly.
            I couldn’t answer him; my tears were causing my throat to clog. My eyes closed with the two-year-old logic that the bad things would go away if you couldn’t see them. I felt him feeling around like my mother did to fruit at the supermarket.
            “Please,” I gasped in between my tears. “Leave me alone; let’s go back to Trisha’s. Please, Warren,” His hand wandered up my skirt.
            That’s when I lost it. My science teacher lectured on adrenaline rushes once, and how frail women lift cars to save their children and people can all the sudden receive superhuman strength if put in a dangerous situation.
            I’ve never been good at track; in fact, my Phys. Ed teacher was excited that I was able to run the mile in a little over 10 minutes. The moment I felt Warren’s hands lurking, I bolted. My legs carried me faster than they ever had. The sand pulled on my heels; like quicksand, trying to trap me on this beach forever. The lub dub of my heartbeat thundered as I ran. I remember thinking I could get away. I could find a phone and call my dad. I could escape him.
            However, it would be a lie to say I succeeded in my getaway.
            How he caught up to me was beyond my knowledge. As face crashed against the sand, tears poured down my sandy cheeks. My limp body skidded down the beach as he pulled me, in absolute shock, by my ankles. Warren knelt next to my limp body and took his rough hand to squeeze my cheeks, the way my grandmother would each holiday. He brought his mouth toward my ear and I flinched; afraid of being hit. “Don’t run from me,” his voice was cold; scolding, even.
            My spirit was broken. I kicked and pushed against him, but most of my strength had been used in the sprint. With ease, Warren removed my underwear and tossed them on the sand, obviously not interested in their modesty. I wailed. Warren clapped his hands over his ears and winced. The after effect of the alcohol was kicking in. He didn’t bother to tell me to shut up this time. Instead, his hand tapped the sand searching for my panties. I watched him ball them up and shove them in my mouth to block my cries for help.
            The thought that my undergarments were in my mouth made me sick. I groaned in agony and begged him to realize what he was doing. Tears streamed down my face and humiliation reeked from my remains. “Please,” I mumbled, holding back the vomit. “Warren,” my eyes danced back and forth, “let me go!” I balled up my tiny fist and beat his arm until my hand was bright red.
            Grabbing his head for the second time, Warren swayed back and forth attempting to stop the pain from all my pleas. When I didn’t stop crying, his fist pulled back and collided with my jaw. A shriek escaped my mouth that was still deafening even though the garment that was muffling my voice. Blood soaked into the panties and I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the taste; trying to forget the situation.
            Warren began to wiggle out of his pants. He stood over me; triumphant. Find a wooden crucifix, I begged myself. My dress flew up from under me with velvet-like gentleness. Stab a stake through his heart, my thoughts urged frantically. His lips felt sloppy as they swallowed mine. I felt stiff and helpless. Garlic, holy water, sunlight, anything?  I began sobbing noisily again, he did not like that. Warren brought his face so close to mine that the tips of our noses were touching. His eyes were dark and wild; a vicious, blood-thirsty, murderer. Without warning, his fist punched the same side of my mouth that he had hit before. My eyes fluttered shut. My world began to fade to black as I accepted my soul had been lost.