Saving Jazz (5 page)

‘Suit yourself.'

The music was up, and the dancing — if you could call it that — was happening. The boys thought it was a great game to bounce up and down as high as they could and then slam into each other. When one of them was injured they just kept going like nothing had happened. So brave. So strong. Yet, beneath it all, so afraid of the judgement of others.

When I was thrown in the pool, followed by Sim, then Lily, and Jack, Tommy and several other guys bombied in, the party was getting hectic. There was a lot of dunking and holding under water. At one point I felt like my lungs would burst and I flailed hard to punch Tommy in the nuts. When he finally let me up for breath I clung to the stonework on the side of the pool, heaving and retching. ‘You're such a dick,' I spat, as water still came out of my mouth. ‘You never know when to stop.'

Lily and Sim pulled me up from the edge of the pool and we posed for selfies. Sticking our boobs out, holding our bellies in. It was only later, long after Greenheadgate erupted, that I saw those photos and realised I'd had a nipple slip — something that prior to those events would have had the social media
spotlight shining on me.

I found Annie in the bathroom, it must have been about ten thirty by then. I was feeling pretty pissy — but Annie was totalled. Her mascara had smudged all the way down her face. She was swaying slightly.

‘What's the matter?' I asked.

‘James,' she rubbed her hand under her nose, ‘just dumped me.'

‘Oh Annie,' I hugged her and she cried a bit more. ‘Why?'

‘He doesn't love me,' she pulled back and looked at me, with those big sad brown eyes. ‘Why doesn't he love me, Jazz. Am I so unlovable?'

‘No,' I said, wetting a washcloth, ‘he's a moron.' She let me clean her up and then we went outside. It was getting really messy. I found Jack, he was so trashed.

‘Jacky, you okay?' I asked, sitting next to him.

‘Too. Fucked. To. Speak,' he mumbled with his eyes shut.

‘I'll sit with you a bit,' I said. That was the thing about me and Jack, we always had each other's back.

Annie continued to annihilate herself. She was
with Max groping and pashing in the corner, then not much later with Liam on the couch. She was on his lap and his hand was up her skirt. Despite the fact James had left, Annie was hell-bent on proving a point. Then she staggered off to get a drink and the next time I saw her she was kind of dancing with Tommy.

I watched her collapse. Boom. Just like that. Like a sack of potatoes hitting the ground.

‘Oh fuck,' I said.

Jack opened his eyes, ‘What'sthematter?'

‘Annie,' I pointed, ‘she's wrecked.'

Jack and I made our way over to her. Tommy was crouched, patting her face lightly. ‘Annie. Annie, wake up.'

She moved a hand in front of her face, brushing his aside. ‘Fuck off, Tommy,' she slurred. I was relieved. She wasn't unconscious, just wasted, and she knew who we were.

‘You want me to take you upstairs?' Tommy asked.

Annie nodded. ‘Sure,' she mumbled.

We lifted her — Tommy, me and Jack — and carried her awkwardly up to Lily's bedroom. I
arranged her into what I thought was a comfortable pose on the bed and covered her with a blanket.

‘Hey,' Annie slurred, ‘where's Tommy?'

‘Here,' I said. Her eyes were shut.

‘Tommy, stay with me,' she mumbled.

‘I'll sit with her a bit,' Tommy said, ‘you guys go.'

I wish I could say I wavered slightly, I wish I could say I had a bad vibe, but I didn't. I was drunk, but not enough I couldn't still party, and there was a party still going on.

‘Okay, come on, Jack,' I said.

At the door Tommy called out, ‘Jack, wait a sec. I need to tell you something.'

‘I'll see you down there,' I said, and I shut the door behind me.

It's been two weeks since I last posted and I'm sorry if that has pissed you off, dear reader. But the next part of this story is the hardest for me to write. I know that this is where I'll face your judgement. And as much as this entire exercise is to truthfully clear up the events of that night, the reality is harder to face. I've written this post seven times. Each time I've edited it in the hope of making it more appealing, in order to present myself as a better person. But the reality is, that girl, Jazz Lovely, who wanted to be liked, who cared about others, she changes from this point. This is where I learn things about myself I can't ever erase.

I don't know how long Jack and Tommy were with
Annie. I'm not being cagey, it's the truth. Trust me, the police asked me plenty of times, despite the fact they had actual footage documenting most of what went on in that room. I just couldn't say. I went back down and sculling games were on. Every time someone said the word
red
, they had to drink. Because I was so drunk anyway, I was an easy target — anyone could trick me.

‘What colour is Cherry's hair?'

‘Red,' I'd say stupidly.

‘Scull!' they'd say, pointing at my drink.

At some point Jack turned up and I do remember seeing Tommy for a bit.

‘What colour g-string is Annie wearing?' I was asked.

‘Red,' I said.

‘Scull!' they said.

Annie.

I hadn't checked on her. We had a pact, that we would always watch each other, that if someone passed out, we would regularly check on them. How long had Annie been alone? I necked my drink and went up the stairs. The door to Lily's room was shut. I pushed it open and I remember feeling relief that,
from the doorway, I could hear her snoring.

‘Annie,' I whispered, moving through the darkness. The curtain was open and it was a full moon. Some say that was the reason for the madness — but it wasn't. What I saw in the moonlight confused me totally. She was face down and I remember standing there puzzling over her naked body. Why was she naked? And what was all over her skin? I pulled the curtains back further and realised with horror what had happened. She'd been drawn on, with a permanent marker. There were random squiggles over her back, but right above her arse were the words PROPERTY OF TOM and an arrow pointing down. I felt ill. I looked for her clothes. Her knickers were around her ankles and her shorts were on the floor. I rolled her over. She stirred.

‘Annie,' I said, ‘it's me, Jazz.' I couldn't bear to think about what had happened to her. What I saw on the other side of her body was even worse.

Across her chest in black marker were the words CHECK OUT THESE D'S. Each nipple had a ring drawn around it and MORE THAN A MOUTHFUL over each one. There were random squiggles over
her torso. SLIPPERY WHEN WET written above her pubes. I thought I might vomit. I wanted to find Tommy and kill him. I guess, given how drunk I was, it had a bit of a sobering effect and this doesn't play out well for me with what I did next. I managed to lift her and pulled her top back over her head. I pulled her knickers back up and it was when I fitted her shorts over her leg that I saw the next piece of writing. Right inside her thigh had JACK WAS HERE and an arrow pointing to her vagina. It was in Jack's handwriting. At that point bile rose and I nearly puked. I picked up the black marker off the bedside table and I scrubbed out Jack's name. I scribbled over and over it until it wasn't legible. I pulled her shorts back up. She stirred again.

‘Jazz,' Annie said.

‘Shh,' I said, guilt twisting my gut, ‘go back to sleep, Annie.' I pulled the blanket over her again.

And, like the criminal I am, I slunk from the room.

Jack was asleep with two others on the couch, in a tangle of arms and legs. I tried shaking him. I tried slapping his face. I wanted him to wake up. I needed
to know what they had done. But he wouldn't wake up. I sat in the corner, hugging my knees to my chest. My phone pinged and I looked at the screen. Snapchat. It was from Callum. I opened it. It was a picture of Annie on Lily's bed, thankfully dressed, but with the permanent marker still visible over parts of her body. I released the button and let the image vanish into the ether. Then I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to get out of there. I had to go home.

I stumbled through the darkness. I was meant to be staying at Sim's but I was possessed by this overwhelming urge to go home. To get into my bed, to snuggle under my doona and hide. Forever — I hoped. Normally I'd be terrified of treading on a tiger snake but that night I didn't care. I had one mission: to get home, into bed and sleep. I guess it's the fight or flight instinct, and mine had kicked into overdrive.

The sun was streaming through my curtains when I heard my mobile ping again. I didn't need to look at the screen to know it was Annie. She had already sent me five text messages. I tried to swallow but I was so dehydrated.

ANNIE

Jazz!

ANNIE

Wake up

ANNIE

Jazz! Jazz! WAKE UP!

ANNIE

Text me ASAP

ANNIE

What the fuck happened to me last night

I read her words again and again, my fingers hovering over the keypad. I didn't know how much to tell her. I didn't know how to word the text. My hands were shaking. I tried to delay — I know it sounds callous, but there were items sitting in my Snapchat. I had to know how far this had gone before I replied to her. I opened the images, and they were all from Tommy. They were all of Annie undressed, with different stages of graffiti drawn over her. The images made me shudder, particularly the one with Jack between her legs drawing on her thigh. I squeezed my eyes shut but in the cold light of day everything was even worse than it had been the night before. More obscene.

JAZZY

You drank way too much and passed out

It was a pathetic response. I knew that. But how do you send someone a text telling them they've been drawn on and humiliated by guys they've known for years? Guys they consider their friends? How do you tell them there are photos of it circulating already?

ANNIE

Jazz I'm totally freaking out here. I'm covered in fucking black pen. What happened to me?

I squinted against the sun and the tears. I just couldn't type it. Some conversations are not meant for text. I tapped the call button. She picked up immediately.

‘Jazz?' Annie's voice was soft and pained.

‘Annie,' I didn't know what to say.

‘What fucking happened?' Annie whispered. I paused and looked out the window. It was such a beautiful day yet everything felt so ugly.

‘We put you to bed,' I began really softly. ‘You had totally crashed out. And Tommy said he'd sit with you for a bit. I left you there and when I came back later you were naked and drawn on.' I know I was omitting the photos, but it seemed impossible to hit her with everything straight away.

‘Did Tommy do this?' Annie whispered. ‘Who is we?'

‘Tommy, Jack and me put you to bed,' I said and then I rushed on quickly. ‘It was Tommy and Jack who drew on you.'

‘Jack?' Annie's voice rose hysterically, then broke.
‘Why the fuck would Jack do this to me?'

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. ‘I don't know, Annie. They were drunk. They were being stupid.' It sounded so lame and so much like collusion.

‘What else?' she demanded more firmly now. ‘The shit they wrote on me, Jazz. Did they … did they …' She couldn't finish the question.

‘No!' I said firmly. Did they what? Touch her? Rape her? ‘Jack would never allow anything like that to happen. But they photographed you,' I said. The howl that came out of her throat sounded like an animal dying.

‘Have you seen them?' she asked finally.

‘Yes,' I said in a monotone.

‘Oh fuck,' she was barely comprehensible. ‘And?'

‘Six pictures,' I said, each image graphically etched into my memory. ‘All of you naked, with various stages of writing on you.'

‘Have you got them?' she asked quietly.

‘No,' I hurried to add, ‘they were sent on Snapchat. They're gone now.'

‘You didn't screenshot them?'

‘It was only three seconds, I think.'

‘Who sent them?' Annie asked.

‘Tommy.' I squeezed my eyes shut — I knew where this was going.

‘He's sent them to everyone,' Annie said flatly. ‘Why? Why? Why?' Annie struggled to speak. ‘Why would they fucking do that to me? Oh fuck. My life is over.'

‘It's not,' I hurried, ‘it'll blow over. It'll be forgotten soon.' It sounded like total bullshit to my own ears.

‘I've gotta go,' Annie said suddenly. ‘I'll talk to you later.' And then she hung up. How on earth was this ever going to be forgotten?

Thankfully my parents were out when I slipped down the hallway over the cool slate tiles to the bathroom. I stripped off last night's clothes and as the shower heated up I assessed myself in the mirror. How would Annie have felt when she woke up in Lily's bed, disoriented? Then when she took her clothes off and saw the drawings all over her body. I imagine she searched her brain — for one tiny memory — and got nothing. Just total blackness. Now to know she'd been stripped and looked at, photographed and now looked at again — by who? By
how many? I stood under the hot spray and scrubbed hard at my own skin, as if it too was covered in permanent marker.

By the time I was dressed and in front of my laptop the news was already on Facebook.

That was the title of the first Facebook post (and there were many to follow) that marked the beginning of Greenheadgate. It was accompanied by one of the pictures of Annie, naked, face down and drawn all over. It had more than 200 Likes when I first saw it — but I believe by the time Annie couldn't take it anymore the number was over a thousand. It was the comments that made my skin crawl.