The Fight (F/F)

[AlexUSA3]

Cool Girls' Club College Chronicles
The Fight
Saturday, September 05, 2015

Genuinely nonconsensual TUGs are a rarity in the Cool Girls' Club. When we "kidnap" friends, it's within the rules of the game that we chose to obey in love. Rarely is there a genuine scene in which someone is held captive against her will, but this is one of those stories. This is the story of how the girls we lovingly know as the Gangsta Queen and Gangsta Princess discovered that a friendship like theirs can overcome any emotional disconnection between them… and how Jenny made that final bump from the innocence of blissful youth to womanhood… in her own way.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1wZa ... sp=sharing
https://docs.google.com/document/d/18Bz ... sp=sharing

We were split across two residences during the Fall Semester of 2015, with Jenny living with our friend Bridget in a classic two-person dorm, and Nichole, Joy, Joyce, and I living in a college-run apartment for four. As soon as Jenny entered the apartment, I could feel something was eating at her. Her usual bounce and skip was missing, and her innocent smile and cheer were absent. This wasn't unusual for Jenny, but what followed was quite unusual.

Now, before you get things wrong, Jenny is a little saint. She wrote letters to me when I was still in juvenile detention, and she's never lacking in affection. There was a palpable pain in her eyes, a pain that told me something had hurt her personally. Jenny always forgives other's wrongs and never hesitates to apologize when she's wronged others, but she's a human like anybody else and can feel trust, betrayal, kindness, love, hatred, and humor like most people do.

"Where's Nichole?" Jenny tersely asked me while looking down at her feet.
"Well, bucko, what's eating at you?" I sensed the tension and questioned her in a kind voice.
"Nothing…" She started, then looked at me and knew she couldn't like, "Nothing for you."

Jenny's feet were firmly planted. Her voice quavered. Her eyes were sad, and her countenance had fallen. Her bandana headband was black—a color I'd never seen her wear. I stared into her blue eyes with my own and attempted to make contact with her soul, but she resisted my efforts to be a comfort. The beautiful blonde hair was in the standard braid she loved so much, and her camouflage t-shirt, black gym shorts, camouflage crew socks, and black canvas sneakers looked so much more like the Jenny we normally saw around here. Even her camouflage scrunchie was normal. The deviations were the countenance and the bandana.

"Nichole?! Nichole!" Jenny called out to her friend in a deeply saddened voice that hurt me.
"Hey, sis!" Nichole charged out of her bedroom with nothing but affection for her best friend.
"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling with self harm?!" The Gangsta Princess snapped.
"Because, Jenny," Nichole took a deep breath, "I didn't want you to worry. Hannah and Joy—"
"I didn't want you to worry," Jenny repeated the words mockingly, "Nichole, quit babying me!"
"Jenny!" Nichole stepped back from Jenny, hurt by the words, "I know what things hurt you—"
"That doesn't mean you should be hiding them from me." The little Gangsta Princess sighed.

Jenny stood at just 5' 1", the shortest of us all, with Joyce, Nichole, and I all being 5' 4". Nichole had her hair held back by an icy blue kerchief bandana, her favorite one because it was subtle for when she felt reserved, cold for when her spirit was perturbed, or bright when she was happy. At the moment, she wore her navy blue t-shirt that had "Minnesota Tech" written in big, bold letters across the chest, icy blue gym shorts, white socks, and navy canvas sneakers. The wavy locks of brown hair and brown eyes were very Portuguese, and the freckles were very Irish.

"Jenny," Nichole groaned, "You're sweet and easily frightened, which means I trust others more on this kind of thing. It's not that I don't trust you. Hannah and Joy keep me in control better."
"Now, Nichole," I took a pragmatic approach, "Don't pretend that Jenny doesn't know pain."
"Sarah Nichole Blakely, let's talk alone," Jenny glanced at me in a way that said, "Thank you."
"Fine, I don't know what good it will do," Nichole shrugged, rolled her eyes, and sighed.
"C'mon," Jenny motioned to the room I shared with Nichole, and then shut the door behind them.
"She's up to no good," I said to my roommates Joy and Joyce.

In prison, you're constantly surrounded by up to 15 other girls who are close to your own age. In time, you become familiar within everyone's idiosyncrasies and— if you're like me—how to read
people in a heartbeat. It's part of the self-defense mechanism whereby you're constantly on alert to familiarize yourself with a new face because, in the pod, there was always at least one person I knew who was a powder keg ready to explode or a snake waiting for her chance. Most podmates had a good soul and had simply screwed up, and they became friends. That one though…

Joyce screwed up her face and sighed. Stress took its toll on her worse than on anyone else here at the moment because of her type-1 diabetes. Thankfully, Joyce was level-headed and had been a girl scout of the most skilled kind; she was always ready to act in a heartbeat. She pushed her glasses back up her nose to be back where they belonged and looked at me with concern obvious in her pensive, spiritually profound, hazel eyes.

My other roommate, Joy, was a profound sneak, but she wasn't one to handle the inevitable fight I knew was about to happen. Jenny was innocent and a bit naïve, but she wasn't a fool. Joy was a girl who could be foolish and emotional, as evidenced by her body count. She put her ear right against the door to listen to the arguments, but I knew Jenny had already found Nichole guilty of a multitude of sins and was going to be judge, jury, and punisher. Joyce joined Joy by the door.

"Jenny, what on earth is this?! Let me go!" Nichole loudly called out, "Hannah! Gmmmmmph!"
"Annddddd," Joyce said with a deep sigh, "Jenny just stuffed her socks in Nichole's mouth."
"Jenny Danielle Kristensen," I knocked on the door, "Open this door right now!"
"Hannah Bandana will break the door and say you did it," Joyce boasted of my physical strength.
"Fine," Jenny snapped and unlocked the door, "You all think I'm a child that needs sheltering."
"No, I don't," Joyce stepped back and gave Jenny some space, "We just recognize who you are."
"Whatever patronizing, insulting, infantilizing—" the angry girl returned to her captive.
"A beautiful, emotionally attuned soul that's now ready to face the reality that her best friend has been silently suffering for many, many years," I gently took Jenny's hand to request her trust.
"Mmmmmmmm!" Nichole protested her treatment and being gagged with Jenny's gym socks.

There, on a wooden desk chair, sat Nichole. Her wrists were tightly tied together with her black rope. A harness with ropes above and below her breasts and cinching through the armpits pinned her arms in place. A waist rope only served to further imprison her. Ropes at her ankles, knees, and thighs reinforced Jenny's unusually harsh, rapid binding, as opposed to her usual tight, gentle technique. Clearly, Jenny was in severe emotional distress over this.

Jenny placed her hands on Nichole's shoulders and fought her urge to cry. The innocent, scared young lady was now finally discovering that life could be a lot more terrifying than the angst she experienced in burying some of her closest relatives due to genetic predispositions. Truthfully, it was condescending of Nichole to outright hide these things from Jenny, because Jenny could still pray for Nichole and be emotional support without being a lifeline like me and Joy.

Getting gagged with someone's sweaty socks is absolutely disgusting. It's genuine torture if you don't want it; for people like me, it's a delight when it's wanted. Seeing Nichole forced to suffer with such a gag as punishment for an over-exaggerated slight reminded me of the time someone forced me to suffer with my own socks in my mouth for two days and left me to starve to death. I wanted things to progress organically, but I had to put my foot down.

"Jenny," I felt my heart racing while I looked at Nichole, "Do you know what my ex did to me?"
"Yes," Jenny answered, paused, and blushed while thinking about that rancid gag, "I… She…"
"No excuses, Jenny," I put my arms behind my back, right hand gripping my left wrist.
Joyce stepped into the space, "Jenny, remove the gag. That's disgusting and cruel to do to her."
"You kidnapped your bestie!" Joy added some wisdom, "Congrats, now you've hurt Nichole too."
"We do it to each other all the time," the Gangsta Princess aggressively defended herself.

"That's a game. You really kidnapped her. I don't like being blunt, Jenny, but my ex kidnapped me, taped the hell out of me, gagged me with my own socks, and hurt me!" I felt the room start spinning at the recollection, and I took a seat to prevent myself from blacking out, "Please?"

Nichole sat there with a calm but perturbed look on her face. Jenny's actions had hurt her much more than any of her actions may have hurt Jenny. She was bound and gagged against her will in an extremely unhappy situation, as opposed to our usual rambunctious CGC roughhousing where we'd randomly tackle one another once our homework was done for the night. She carefully and slowly twisted her wrists, but I could tell it was tough and tight. Wrists being tied together are an incredible pain for girls who are not flexible because of the angles at which the wrists are held.

"Jenny, you're being cruel and self-centered. Look in the mirror," Joy chose to look at the heart.
"Yeah, so?" Jenny looked into the mirror and saw that awful sight of adulthood staring at her.
"We're adults now. You can handle the problems. We know you love Nichole more than anyone else here, and we're sorry for not telling you so you could also help her in your own way."
Joyce wasn't pulling punches, "You've violated our Cool Girls' Club vows of unconditional love and friendship and disregarded our rules of consent. Nichole doesn't want to be tied up."
"Fine," Jenny blinked twice and unknotted the bandana cleave gag, "Whatever good this'll do."
"Bleh!" Nichole spat out the socks, "Jenny, I'm sorry. I didn't know I would hurt your feelings."
"You should be," now, the kidnapper couldn't hide her pain and untied Nichole's wrists, "Bye."
"Wait!" Joyce ran in front to stop the Gangsta Princess from leaving the dorm, "Jenn, let's talk."
The little blonde girl impatiently crossed her arms at the sight of the Italian girl blocking her, but her tears were obvious now. "If you want a peace treaty, then come with me to the dining hall."
"Fine," Joyce calmly responded, "Let's go. I sincerely apologize for not telling you."
"Quick!" Nichole said while Joy and I helped her out of the ropes, "We have to follow them!"

I snapped out of my day-nightmare and pounced to help Nichole out of the ropes, using lightning reflexes of the kind you develop only when you've been in genuinely dangerous or high-pressure situations. In under a minute, Nichole was free from the ropes, and we were setting off to fix the friendship that was the very heartbeat of the Cool Girls' Club. That look in Jenny's eyes now told me of the guilt she harbored within herself; she felt horrible about what she did but was still very angry over Nichole's actions. These new emotions were confusing her. Righteous indignation is OK when you're in control of yourself, but Jenny's anger and innocence were storming inside her heart. I knew her too well. Her better judgment and love would win, but she needed time to talk about the matter calmly with Nichole. Right then? She was too upset to think clearly.

Nichole adjusted her bandana and fearlessly followed after her best friend. Their friendship had begun long ago, when Jenny was a scared child who had just lost her big brother to cancer. They happened to be enrolled in the same pre-K, and there a friendship that surpassed any boundaries was born. Kindergarten, elementary school, middle school, high school, and now college—they were side-by-side through everything. Nichole had a bed of her own in Jenny's bedroom so she could spend the night there anytime she wanted. Together, as friends, they, another friend, and I had founded the Cool Girls' Club. As friends, they found me in my reclusive life after prison to bring me back into the CGC. Nichole was ready to fight her greatest battle alongside Jenny.

No one saw it coming except me. Joy and Nichole hurried to try to catch up to Jenny and Joyce, the latter of whom was successfully helping Jenny to calm down. When Jenny turned to face her best friend, we saw only tears and a red face. People stared at us amidst the cries that permeated the air. While no one on campus outside some members of the school TUG sorority knew of the Cool Girls' Club, everyone recognized us because of our friendships and our bandanas. All of us entered a crosswalk—Joyce and Jenny walking backwards in the lead, Joy and Nichole trailing at a close distance, and me remaining 10 feet behind them to give Jenny and Nichole some space. I wasn't the only one who saw the car that was speeding right in front of the school dining hall, but I was the only one of us not in the crosswalk as it made its approach while its driver texted.

"Jenny, I'm sorry! I mean it!" was met with responses like…
"Go away! I don't want to see you right now!" Slowly, though, Jenny's responses softened…
"Nichole, I still love you. I'm just hurt that you wouldn't at least ask me to pray for you!"
"JENNY!" Nichole ran at Jenny and shoved her out of the way. Joyce jumped forward; Joy leapt towards me. There was Nichole, in the greatest evidence of her love for Jenny, taking the hit.

CRACK! The car slammed into Nichole's body. Her leg bent at an unnatural angle. Joy's lost balance was stopped by me grabbing her. Joyce and Jenny fell down into the rough concrete and shredded their own arms as their skin scraped against the concrete. Nichole was thrown like a rag into the car's hood and windshield, and blood splurted from the compound fracture. School security happened to be nearby, and one officer went to help Nichole while the other charged the car to apprehend the driver. Instinctively, I went to Nichole, and there were two words that filled the air in a piercing scream: "EEEEEEEEEK! NICHOLE!" Jenny didn't care about the blood.

"I know what I'm doing," was all I said while Joyce, a former Girl Scout trained better than most Eagle Scouts, and I ran to Nichole's side. Joyce was indifferent to her own bleeding.
"NO! NO! NICHOLE!" Jenny crawled over to her motionless friend while sobbing bitterly.
"Please keep a distance," the officer ordered Jenny, but Jenny took Nichole's hand in her own.
"Nichole, I'm sorry. I'm… sorry…" Jenny quietly muttered the words, "It's all my fault."
"What a… sight…," Joy nervously laughed before turning away with a pale face and puking.
"I forgive you," Nichole bravely revealed her conscious state, "Jenny, we're still besties, right?"
"Mmm hmm. God, please help my sister."
"Jenny, you keep doing that," Joyce encouraged her, "Nichole needs your love more than ever."

It broke my and Joyce's hearts to be covered in our friend's blood, which we knew would leave a stain that would never be forgotten by anybody present, no matter how many coats of paint cover the spot. It was a gnarly mess, and Jenny and Joyce had blood dripping down their arms and legs as a result of their scrapes, and I had spots of blood on my shirt from the moment of impact. The DUNK! that preceded the CRACK! would definitely remain with me forever.

Most of all, though, I would never forget the sight of that tiny cross-country and track star with tears pouring down her cheeks, the black bandana headband turned from a symbol of anger to a symbol of sorrow. The way Nichole used her strength to tighten her grip on Jenny's hand and to forgive in the midst of her agony. I had been a witness to true Cool Girl love, the kind of love a Cool Girl vows to maintain for all of her fellow Cool Girls forever and ever.

Soon, an ambulance had arrived on the scene, and I watched quietly while the paramedics helped Nichole. She was put on a stretcher and brought into the ambulance, all while Jenny stayed mere inches from her. Adulthood and reality had overtaken Jenny via emotional turmoil and pain, but in the process the strength of the friendship between her and Nichole had become stronger than it had ever been. Perhaps there were tears, but… Love had defeated the anger from their prior spat.

"Joyce, let's get Joy to her sister's, and then we'll head to the hospital," I tried to keep calm.
"Are you OK?" Joyce, ever the scout, was always concerned about others.
"Yeah, yeah," Joy grimaced at the taste of her own vomit while we helped her walk.

No one outside our immediate circles of friends knew of the Cool Girls' Club or of TUGs except those of us—such as me, Joy, and Joyce—who were members of the school bondage sorority and were at the sorority rush events or proudly wore sorority t-shirts. Our friendships were obvious a mile away, but now they were proven in the most tragic way. The witnesses will never forget the sight of Jenny grasping Nichole's hand and weeping.

Soon… Joyce and I were at the hospital. We sat in the waiting room with a terrified Jenny, with her hand holding mine as tightly as she'd held Nichole's. Joyce prayed a rosary in silence while I kept a silent vigil with Jenny. Jenny's black bandana mood had morphed from anger to shame to terror to fear. She had stopped crying, but the trembling remained. What Joyce and I said by our actions was more meaningful than anything we could say. Jenny occasionally grabbed Nichole's phone like it was a talisman and said silent prayers. The innocence was gone, but Jenny had still remained in it all. Her ability to love others genuinely through thick and thin had won.

"Girls," Jenny broke her silence in a quiet, confident voice, "I'm sorry. I also hurt you today."
"We forgive you," I said as confidently, then forced myself to add, "God will watch Nichole."
"Jenny Kristensen?" A voice called out, "Miss Blakely is asking for you."
"May my friends come with me?" Jenny's first action was to intercede for us as our friend.

We were surrounded by various conditions in the waiting room—flu, heart attack, stroke, injury, pregnancy—and saw the hubbub first hand while walking the halls to the room where Nichole was waiting for us. She looked like Nichole, but different. Gone were the shorts, shirt, and her trademark bandana; present were hospital garments and numerous bandages.

"Nichole?" Jenny carefully approached her best friend by the hand, "How are you?"
"Sore and hoarse," Nichole said in a raspy voice, "But I'll be fine."
"Hannah! Get a picture of us together?" The Little Gangsta Princess sheepishly asked me.

Then, one by one, Nichole insisted each of us be photographed with her, because that's how she is, but the smile was brightest in the one taken with Jenny. Maybe Jenny lost her innocence that day, but Jenny remained Jenny afterwards. She'd made the leap to womanhood, and it prepared her for the horrors that awaited the Cool Girls' Club starting in summer of 2016.

We all grew through the experience though. I learned how to better love through the experience of watching Jenny and Nichole love one another. There was nothing like it, really, but seeing the love win through a tragedy like this prepared my soul to complete that gradual transition from an extremely bigoted atheist like I was in high school to being a Catholic by graduation. Only these two have a friendship like this, but we all could learn from it.

The sight of the two best friends beaming for the picture despite the fight and fright will forever be one of the greatest pictures in the history of the Cool Girls' Club.