# My Dark Vanessa
Author:: Kate Elizabeth Russell
## Highlights
> When he disappears, a mania seizes me, a need to flee. I snap my notebook shut, grab my backpack, and start off toward the dorm, but then think better and double back to scan the ground for the exact leaf he held up to my hair. ([Location 516](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=516))
> At night after my parents go to bed, I stand in front of my bedroom mirror, study my face and hair and try to see myself as Mr. Strane sees me, a girl with maple-red hair who wears nice dresses and has good style, but I can’t get past the sight of myself as a pale, freckled child. ([Location 524](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=524))
> Standing so close to him feels like being swallowed; my head doesn’t reach his shoulder. ([Location 591](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=591))
> I start to realize the point isn’t really whether I like the books; it’s more about him giving me different lenses to see myself through. The poems are clues to help me understand why he’s so interested, what it is exactly that he sees in me. ([Location 623](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=623))
> Last winter break, she asked if she could have my favorite scarf so she could store it in a box and take it out to smell when she missed me. It’s the sort of thought I have to push out of my head immediately because otherwise I feel so guilty I can’t breathe. ([Location 659](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=659))
> When I give them my usual brusque goodbye, I try not to get annoyed when Mom’s eyes tear up. ([Location 675](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=675))
> Like the laws that flatten all the sex I had with Strane before I turned eighteen into legal rape—are we supposed to believe that birthday is magic? It’s as arbitrary a marker as any. Doesn’t it make sense that some girls are ready sooner? ([Location 801](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=801))
> Him kissing me used to be fodder for rumors that spread like wildfire. Now when we touch each other, the world doesn’t even notice. I know there should be freedom in that, but to me it only feels like loss. ([Location 899](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=899))
> He kisses the top of my head then, his own half kiss, and again I press my mouth against his neck. It’s a dialogue of half actions, neither of us fully committed. There’s still a chance to turn away, change our minds. Half kisses can be forgotten but full kisses cannot. ([Location 1218](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=1218))
> wonder if he really believes that. He touched me first, said he wanted to kiss me, told me he loved me. Every first step was taken by him. I don’t feel forced, and I know I have the power to say no, but that isn’t the same as being in charge. But maybe he has to believe that. Maybe there’s a whole list of things he has to believe. ([Location 1404](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=1404))
> I want to tell him I’m tired, to roll over and never look at the thing ever again, but that would be selfish. He said me naked is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. It would be cruel for me to counter that with disgust. It doesn’t matter that my skin crawls from touching him. ([Location 1565](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=1565))
> Ever since Dad died, I’ll wake up to texts like these. This one, at least, has regular punctuation; others are rambling stream-of-consciousness thoughts linked with ellipses, incoherent enough to make me worry. ([Location 1610](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=1610))
> I know I’m being surveilled, but it also feels like being pursued, oppressive and flattering all at once. ([Location 1792](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=1792))
> At least Strane loved me. At least I knew how it felt to be worshipped. He fell at my feet before he even kissed me. ([Location 2938](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=2938))
> Slowly guided into the fire—why is everyone so scared to admit how good that can feel? To be groomed is to be loved and handled like a precious, delicate thing. ([Location 3004](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=3004))
> I search Twitter for Strane’s name and mostly find Taylor’s, a mix of feminist defenses and sexist attacks. One tweet includes a photo of her at fourteen, skinny and smiling through braces in her field hockey uniform, the text screaming, THIS IS HOW OLD TAYLOR BIRCH WAS WHEN JACOB STRANE ASSAULTED HER. I try to imagine the same line paired with the Polaroids Strane took of me at fifteen, my heavy-lidded eyes and swollen lips, or with the photos I took of myself at seventeen, standing before a backdrop of birch trees, lifting my skirt as I stared at the camera, looking like a Lolita and knowing exactly what I wanted, what I was. I wonder how much victimhood they’d be willing to grant a girl like me. ([Location 3578](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=3578))
---
Title: My Dark Vanessa
Author: Kate Elizabeth Russell
Tags: readwise, books
date: 2024-01-30
---
# My Dark Vanessa
Author:: Kate Elizabeth Russell
## AI-Generated Summary
None
## Highlights
> When he disappears, a mania seizes me, a need to flee. I snap my notebook shut, grab my backpack, and start off toward the dorm, but then think better and double back to scan the ground for the exact leaf he held up to my hair. ([Location 516](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=516))
> At night after my parents go to bed, I stand in front of my bedroom mirror, study my face and hair and try to see myself as Mr. Strane sees me, a girl with maple-red hair who wears nice dresses and has good style, but I can’t get past the sight of myself as a pale, freckled child. ([Location 524](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=524))
> Standing so close to him feels like being swallowed; my head doesn’t reach his shoulder. ([Location 591](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=591))
> I start to realize the point isn’t really whether I like the books; it’s more about him giving me different lenses to see myself through. The poems are clues to help me understand why he’s so interested, what it is exactly that he sees in me. ([Location 623](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=623))
> Last winter break, she asked if she could have my favorite scarf so she could store it in a box and take it out to smell when she missed me. It’s the sort of thought I have to push out of my head immediately because otherwise I feel so guilty I can’t breathe. ([Location 659](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=659))
> When I give them my usual brusque goodbye, I try not to get annoyed when Mom’s eyes tear up. ([Location 675](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=675))
> Like the laws that flatten all the sex I had with Strane before I turned eighteen into legal rape—are we supposed to believe that birthday is magic? It’s as arbitrary a marker as any. Doesn’t it make sense that some girls are ready sooner? ([Location 801](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=801))
> Him kissing me used to be fodder for rumors that spread like wildfire. Now when we touch each other, the world doesn’t even notice. I know there should be freedom in that, but to me it only feels like loss. ([Location 899](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=899))
> He kisses the top of my head then, his own half kiss, and again I press my mouth against his neck. It’s a dialogue of half actions, neither of us fully committed. There’s still a chance to turn away, change our minds. Half kisses can be forgotten but full kisses cannot. ([Location 1218](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=1218))
> wonder if he really believes that. He touched me first, said he wanted to kiss me, told me he loved me. Every first step was taken by him. I don’t feel forced, and I know I have the power to say no, but that isn’t the same as being in charge. But maybe he has to believe that. Maybe there’s a whole list of things he has to believe. ([Location 1404](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=1404))
> I want to tell him I’m tired, to roll over and never look at the thing ever again, but that would be selfish. He said me naked is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. It would be cruel for me to counter that with disgust. It doesn’t matter that my skin crawls from touching him. ([Location 1565](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=1565))
> Ever since Dad died, I’ll wake up to texts like these. This one, at least, has regular punctuation; others are rambling stream-of-consciousness thoughts linked with ellipses, incoherent enough to make me worry. ([Location 1610](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=1610))
> I know I’m being surveilled, but it also feels like being pursued, oppressive and flattering all at once. ([Location 1792](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=1792))
> At least Strane loved me. At least I knew how it felt to be worshipped. He fell at my feet before he even kissed me. ([Location 2938](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=2938))
> Slowly guided into the fire—why is everyone so scared to admit how good that can feel? To be groomed is to be loved and handled like a precious, delicate thing. ([Location 3004](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=3004))
> I search Twitter for Strane’s name and mostly find Taylor’s, a mix of feminist defenses and sexist attacks. One tweet includes a photo of her at fourteen, skinny and smiling through braces in her field hockey uniform, the text screaming, THIS IS HOW OLD TAYLOR BIRCH WAS WHEN JACOB STRANE ASSAULTED HER. I try to imagine the same line paired with the Polaroids Strane took of me at fifteen, my heavy-lidded eyes and swollen lips, or with the photos I took of myself at seventeen, standing before a backdrop of birch trees, lifting my skirt as I stared at the camera, looking like a Lolita and knowing exactly what I wanted, what I was. I wonder how much victimhood they’d be willing to grant a girl like me. ([Location 3578](https://readwise.io/to_kindle?action=open&asin=B07R8V69FN&location=3578))