Torn,

The new lace underwear lay in a pile at the doorway.

Seam broken wide, ripped from its skin,

The body thrown aside.

Like the underwear,

The body serves only as a trophy in the path of the house

with the large Greek letters.

Midnight,

Happy New Year.

Alcohol mixed with shared looks across the keg.

“You’re beautiful,”

He moved in closer,

Zoning in on his nightly conquest.

Dissolve,

He crafts her a drink and watches the drug enter her body.

Vodka spills down her throat like a spring break slip and slide,

Numbing her anxiety and silencing the music that has been drowning her.

Limp,

She falls into a synthetic sleep,

Waking up only to her clothing leaving her body.

Stripped of her comfort and peace of mind,

Her clothes thrown haphazardly around the room.

The night that was supposed to bring her out of her shell,

 has completely filleted her open.

Naked,

She lay on the soiled and dirty sheets,

Counting the assorted sports posters that littered his cave.

In and out she faded, letting her brain leave her.

Empty,

She melted into the grass outside the house with the mammoth Greek letters.

Her clothes had been returned,

but the lace underwear remained in the house, lost in the rush of alcohol.

Vomit tried to make its way up her throat,

But her stomach kept it inside as if it wanted her to suffer longer.

Alone,

In the yard, she let the earth swallow her,

until the morning when her rescue team realized she was missing.

Scooped up in the arms of her hungover friends,

Her trauma, ignored.