for what?

Like focusing in the dark, the following night taunted her reach. Terrified to open her eyes, she stilled in the strange bed while her own forced itself into her mind. Shutters preceded the thoughts that she should be there instead, in her own bed. She lingered here only due to the protection of the thin cotton sheet that covered her face. Her little fists clenched the sheet knowing it was the only thing between her and the unknown.
As the rest of her senses began to rouse, she noticed several new-fangled disparities. A pinching ache brewing between her eyes and back into her head accompanied the scent of several odors her awakening body could not yet distinguish. More disturbing than the pain between her eyes, was an unfamiliar pain playing between her legs.
She gummed her lips to feel the disgust staling in her mouth. The taste was horribly familiar and contributed to a burning in her nostrils. She understood now. Not what happened, but what happened to her. Her fists clenched tighter and tighter on the sheet as her mind contorted itself, un-accepting of the night’s outcome. Her blame seized her bed-sheet home in a desperate but seemingly useless attempt to find itself a culprit. It stuck with her.
Slight glances of the night began penetrating her view. She remembered her heart, pleading to her mind: too intoxicated to listen. She remembered the boy, but didn’t even know his name. Her feeble attempt to recall the rest could hardly even recall where she was.
She wanted to lie there forever, untainted in her humble abode of sheets and pillows. She wouldn’t give in to the notion her mangled body illustrated to her. Her attempt to decline the idea only harvested it more into her soul. She had lost her sacredness, and could not even remember it. She removed the sheet from her face and opened her tear-filled eyes to begin the day.