“What? Girl. You’ve kissed this guy like twice. You need to forget and move on.”
“It’s just not that easy,” I try to explain. “It’s like I don’t want to. I can’t rid him from my mind, or erase the feeling of his touch on me.” I glance to her and her mouth is hanging open ever so slightly. Her hand moves, resting loosely on my shoulder.
“I. Cannot. Believe. My. Ears,” she says dramatically. “You have feelings for him? After one kiss?”
“Well, it happened twice,” I say tilting my head and pursing my lips.
“Okay, okay, twice,” she says dismissively. “But honestly, Am, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk that way about any guy.”
“I know. It’s crazy, right?”
“Well actually, I think it’s kind of sweet.”
“That’s one I never thought I’d hear you say.” I laugh loudly and so does Lily.
It’s not long until we are outside the main strip where the most popular bars are located. We pay the driver before quickly exiting the taxi.
“Let’s try somewhere different tonight,” Lily says, grabbing my hand and practically dragging my ass down the street.
“This one is the best cocktail bar in all of Portland.” She points to the glass fronted building. We walk into the air conditioned building, heading straight to the bar. We both slide onto a bar stool. The place is buzzing. Music plays, but not too loudly. It’s the voices that fill the entire room. Lily pushes the menu in front of me.
“What do you fancy?” she asks, shouting over the noise. “I really hope the hot guy in the black shirt serves us.” She swoons.
I can’t help but laugh. “Lily, they all have black shirts on,” I point out.
“Yeah, I know.” She giggles and the two of us sit there, laughing like a couple of kids.
Within minutes, one of the bartenders appears and we place our orders. The first drink goes down easily and we order another, then another, until I can’t drink any more. Within a few hours I’m drunk. I mean really drunk. We both sing loudly, dance every time our favorite song is played and it feels great. Lily hasn’t stopped talking all night, and despite trying to avoid the subject of Caleb, he seems to keep coming up in conversation. Even through the haze of alcohol I can’t think of anything but him.
As we continue to talk, Lily’s hand flies up to her mouth. She stumbles from her seat and makes her way over to the bathroom. I try to stand, wobbling terribly in my heels. I stagger across the bar, making my way into the bathroom.
“Lily,” I shout with a slur. I hear heaving so I decide to push on the stall doors, hoping to find her. “Lily,” I shout again, finally finding her in the second cubicle. I reach down, grabbing a handful of her hair, trying to hold it back, but not exactly doing a great job. I’m clearly wasted and can barely stand up straight myself. “It’s okay, let it out,” I stammer, letting my body drop against the side of the partition, while I continue to hold back her hair.
“I need to go home,” Lily gargles her words, spitting into the toilet.
“Me too.” I giggle. “I’m soooo drunk.” With as much grace as I can muster, I pull myself back to standing.
“Help me up.” She turns, holding her hand out to me. I pull her up with as much force as I can muster. I barely help her to her feet. We wrap our arms around each other, hoping to steady our unstable legs.
“This is all your fault,” she says with a hiccup. “You made me drink too much.”
“Oh yeah. I’m the bad influence here, right?”
“Uh huh,” she groans.
We walk for what feels like miles, trying to make our way over to where the cabs are parked. We walk up to the yellow car, trying to catch the attention of the driver. I tap as gently as I can on the window, but it ends up more like a thud. He lowers the glass, bending his head to meet mine. His face is nothing more than a blur from this distance. I blink, hoping to clear my vision, but it doesn’t help. I don’t wait for an answer as I hold on to Lily, opening the rear door. I push her inside, falling in after her. I giggle a little at her falling back on the seat. The driver mumbles something. I’m not sure what, so I just respond with Lily’s address. As the car begins to move, I feel sick. It must be the fresh air increasing my level of drunkenness. I swallow, desperately trying to not let the nausea rise in my throat. I rest my head wearily against my hand.
“I wuv you, Ber,” Lily says, her words tumbling out, barely understandable. I want to say something, answer her drunken declaration, but I fear if I open my mouth, the contents of my stomach might appear. Instead, I nod, stroking the top of her head. After what seems like only a few minutes later, I see that we’re outside her apartment building. The driver turns and says something, but all I hear is a mumble.
“Thisss iss youu,” I stutter out, trying to form the words, but clearly failing. I push her heavily on the arm and try to focus as I watch her unsteadily step from the cab. She turns, her head appearing and her hand waving repeatedly at me. I return the gesture before she slams the door shut and the motion of the car moving once again intensifies the sick feeling I have.
‘Don’t be sick. Don’t be sick,’ I tell myself over and over. But it’s no use. I can no longer hold back the feeling of nausea.
“Pull over,” I yell. “Quickly.” I panic. Opening the door, I practically fall from the cab as it comes to a stop. I scrape my knees on the ground, and I know it will sting in the morning. I feel my stomach contract violently as I kneel down, emptying everything my stomach is holding. Eventually, I lift my head, noticing that I’m just around the corner from my apartment. The driver’s legs appear in my line of sight, and as I try and take him in, he hands me my purse.
“Fifteen dollars,” his gruff voice bellows at me. I snatch my purse from his hand, retrieving the money. I pass it to him before he walks away and the cab is soon out of sight.
I don’t have the strength to move, so I stay where I am, my vision fading in and out.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been in this position, but a familiar voice catches my attention. My head swings loosely as I try and work out where the source of the noise is coming from. The voice becomes louder and suddenly I’m lifted from the ground, my eyes searching for answers.
“Come on. Let’s get you inside,” he offers, holding up my full weight.
“Ryan?” I try studying the body holding me up, my feet practically dragging on the ground.
“Yeah it’s me, baby. Aren’t you lucky I found you here? Who knows what might have happened to you?”
“I don’t need your help,” I spit back, hatred lacing my tone. “And don’t call me baby.” I point my wavering finger in his face, my voice loud as we round the corner to my building. I can’t help but cling onto him. My body’s limp and there’s no way I have the strength to walk. Ryan opens my purse, takes out my keys, and opens the main door to the apartment building. We continue toward the elevator, and make our way up to the floor where my apartment is located. Ryan doesn’t say anymore, at least I don’t think he does. Still being held up by him, he helps me down the hall and we stop outside of the apartment.
“Well fank you vwery much for getting to my door.” I try to focus, smiling at him widely.
The next thing I know, Ryan’s mouth is on mine. His tongue is forcing its way into my mouth aggressively. I throw out my weak arms, hoping to push him away, but it doesn’t work. I’m revolted by his advances and I thrash out, anyway I can until his hands land on my throat. Like an injection of adrenaline, my drunken haze now becomes stark reality. I do the only thing I can think of, I open my mouth to shout as loudly as possible, my body failing to get him off me. I grasp at his hands around my neck, but it’s no use. I open my mouth to yell, to cry out, but his hold tightens and nothing comes out. Within seconds, he has the door behind me open and he pushes me inside. I tumble backward, the force too much for my legs to remain standing. I’m on the cold floor and his body feels like a thousand bricks on top of mine. I try again to scream
, but nothing comes out. The fingers of his free hand grabs my cheeks roughly. He squeezes, prizing my mouth open effortlessly. His full body weight presses against me, pinning me in place.
“Hold still, you fucking whore.” His words are quiet but menacing, and I feel helpless. My body’s not strong enough under his hold, and my voice is suffocated by his grasp around my throat. My heart pounds erratically as I feel my panic rising and tears stream from my eyes of their own accord. He pushes something into my mouth and I gag. I’m not sure what it is, but he relaxes his hold around my neck, before removing them completely. I feel his calloused fingers move slowly from my ankle up my leg, grazing the inside of my thigh and I can’t help but shudder. I wiggle and fight with all my might, but my body barely responds. I’m screaming inside as his finger traces the seam of my underwear.
I will myself to fight back, and I just about manage to buck my body in attempt to get him off me.
“Keep still,” he growls. “I know you’re gonna fucking enjoy this. You know I always get what I want.” He leers, licking his lips as his eyes wander, taking in my whole body.
I’m totally numb from the shock of what is happening to me. How is this happening? Why me? My mind and my body are frozen. The fear of what he’s about to do, the fear that I might not make it out alive shocks me to the core.
I want to live.
I have to survive.
But I’m like a captured animal, impaired and incapable of escaping.
His hands land heavily on me and in one swift movement, I’m on my stomach. His hands grab my hair, ripping it as he pulls my head back. Holding it there, as though he’s going to rip my hair from my scalp, he starts to lick my cheek. I wiggle but it’s useless. His hand travels down the length of my back, pulling up my shirt, exposing my lower half. I feel the sharp sting of his hand as it slaps my ass. His hands tug at my pants. My body thrashes around as he pulls until the room fills with the sound of material ripping. He’s removed my pants and I tremble, knowing what he’s going to do. I recoil, feeling his fingers entering me. My eyes are clamped shut. This is not real, I tell myself. This can’t be happening.
“Oh, baby, you’re so dry,” he moans, retracting his fingers before spitting on them and re-entering me with force. He pushes inside me so violently I cry out. Only my cries can’t be heard because of the gag. I wince, trying to move my body away, hoping to ease the aggressiveness of his penetration.
“That’s it, bitch. Fuck my fingers harder.”
I can’t help but stiffen at his words. He actually thinks I’m enjoying this. Sick fuck.
I try and block out what he’s doing. Disassociate with my body until he’s done. It’s the only way I can cope. The only way I’m going to get through this ordeal.
I’m pinned down on the floor, gagged by this monster, with no way of calling for help. His hands work inside me and his moans of pleasure are loud. Words of desire tumble out of his mouth, but I try and block it out.
He’s assaulting me, and I know the worst is yet to come. Seconds feel like hours. Each of his touches feel like a knife stabbing me deep in the heart. All of my weakened senses are impaired. I can’t do a thing. I can’t fight back. The weight of his body suddenly lifts from me and I try to turn my head, wondering and fearing what he’s doing. I lay on the floor, my body shaking as I sob. Breathing heavily through my nose, I try to get air. I flinch at the sudden feeling of his finger between my ass cheeks. I cry out louder, only the noise I make is muffled. I wince at the pain as he aggressively enters my back passage. He thrusts in and out, each time hurting me more than the last, more aggressive than before. While he’s distracted, I reach up, pulling what appears to be a sock from my mouth.
“Stop,” I croak out as loud as possible. “Please don’t do this,” I plead, my voice barely audible. I cough at the dryness in my mouth and throat caused by his makeshift gag. He slowly removes his fingers, and he’s on his feet. For a second I feel a moment’s relief. Maybe he will walk out and leave me. That this nightmare might end.
Until he unfastens his belt.
He pops the buttons of his jeans, pulling them down with his boxers, just enough to expose his erect penis. He starts to fist his cock. “You want this, don’t you? I know you want this so fucking bad, baby.”
I try to shuffle across the wooden floor in a feeble attempt to get away. I’m halted when he reaches down, grabs my feet, and returns me to my earlier position. I lay on my back, my head thrashing from side to side.
“Stop. Please don’t,” I try again to plead with him.
He retracts his hand, holding it up high in the air. I freeze helplessly. My eyes widen as he clenches his fist into a ball. The sudden impact to my face reverberates through the wooden floor. I scream out, pulling my arms up to the pain in my head. I try to focus, but all I see is a blur. Tears stream. My head thrashes wildly from side to side. My cries and sobs are silenced by his hand pressing down on my mouth with force.
“I’m gonna fuck your pretty pussy so hard. Like the fucking whore that you really are,” he growls as he slides his cock between my folds. He presses into me, my whole body recoiling as I try to stop this from happening. But it’s no use. He pushes inside me. The sting of him entering me causes me to yelp out. I shout against his hand, but it’s barely a mumble. He releases his hand from my mouth.
“I want to hear you scream when I make you come. I know you like this, baby.” He continues to plunge into me, over and over.
“No,” I scream, my voice giving out. “No! No! Stop!” I yell, my voice cracking with the ferocity of my outburst.
He laughs, like this is all a game to him. He’s getting a kick out of me fighting back, of me shouting. I wiggle, trying everything to push him off me.
I hear a loud bang that captures all of my attention. Within a millisecond, Ryan is lifted from me. In the crack of the door, light streams in from the dimly lit hall, I see his face.
Caleb.
I lift myself on to my elbows, pushing my feet back until I’m leaning against the wall behind me. Grabbing at the hem of my dress, I try to conceal my exposed body. Snot drips like a tap from my nose, tears streaming as I gasp for breath, heaving through my tears. I hear scuffling and as I look up, Caleb’s tightly wound fist hits Ryan over and over in the stomach. The contact of flesh echoes through the apartment. Ryan hunches over, taking blow after blow. Caleb’s darkened eyes land on mine. His face contorts with his all-consuming anger. He releases his hold on Ryan, pushing him heavily against the chest, sending him flying through the door of the apartment. Caleb rushes over to me, kneeling.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He holds up his hands, his words spoken as a promise. “I will never hurt you. Let me help you,” he speaks gently, as if seeking approval. I fall forward, leaning against him, sobbing uncontrollably. His arms work around me and I feel his heavy breaths against me. Without saying another word, he pushes his arms under my limp legs, standing and carrying me to his apartment.
My tears cascade down my face like a damn waterfall and I can barely manage to string together a few words.
“I need to call the police,” he says, holding me tightly in his arms. My frame is so small compared to his. I’m like a child curled up on her father’s lap. I hear his words over in my mind, and my panic rises, the acid stinging the back of my throat.
“No,” I wail, my voice screeching. “Please, just hold me. Just for a little while longer.”
“I should really call them, Amber. That fucker needs to pay for what he’s done.”
I whimper as he shuffles me from his lap. “Please,” I cry, needing his touch and the comfort of his hold. I sniffle, turning my head to look at him. I narrow my eyes as I study his jeans, noticing something strange.
Then it hits me.
“Is that…is that my blood?” I cry out, my voice all but a scream. His head drops, taking in the stain on his leg.
“It’s okay. Don’t panic,” he soothes. He holds his arm out, offering me a g
lass of water. “Here, sip on this.” I don’t take the drink from his hand. Instead, I reach down, trying to figure out where the blood is coming from. I shake uncontrollably as I look at my hand, bright red blood smeared on it. Caleb puts the glass on the small table beside the couch and walks out of the room. Returning in a sprint, he has a washcloth and a blanket. He lays the blanket over the lower half of my body before taking my hand in his, carefully wiping the warm cloth across it, clearing away the blood.
“Everything will be okay, I promise.”
“How can it be? How will I ever be okay?” I sob, my heart hammering in my chest.
Caleb doesn’t say anything. He takes a hold of my hand, grasping it tightly. I flutter my stinging eyes shut, tears still falling heavily. Resting my head back against the chair, the hum of his voice comforts me.
My eyes fly open and my arms thrash out as I try to come to grips with where I am.
“I’m here,” he soothes, Caleb’s face suddenly in my line of sight. Holding a hand to my chest, I feel my galloping heartbeat against my palm. As I try to lift my head from the pillow, my eyes wander around the room. The hospital room. Caleb teeters on the chair beside me and I can’t quite believe he’s here.
“Should I call Lily?” he asks, his voice quiet. “You’ve been out for quite a while.”
“Jesus, my head,” I cry, the pain unbearable. My whole body aches and hurts in a way I’ve never experienced before.
Thinking back to when I arrived at the hospital, I once again felt humiliated. They poked and prodded me in the most invasive ways possible. As they took their swabs and photos, I cried like a baby. Are the bruises on my neck and the tear in my vagina not enough proof of the crime? Or the word of the man who saved me? Instead, I laid naked, exposed again, through the entire exam and while samples were taken. The nurses explained the risk of disease and a multitude of other scary shit. When they finally had all the swabs they needed, they allowed me to shower.
It was the longest shower I’d ever taken. But even that couldn’t wash away the pain, the violation I felt from me being raped.
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