Driving to Chris’ parents’ house the next morning, I was not excited to see him. I knew he was only “happy” for the time being and would be angry with me for something else soon. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew I was going to be in trouble on some level very soon. I pulled into the driveway and texted him that I was there and ready to roll when he was. I sat in the car patiently. He was wearing a black, grey and white baja jacket, jeans and black converse when he walked out of the house. He opened the back door of my orange 1977 VW Rabbit, threw his backpack off of his left shoulder into my back seat, slammed the door, opened the front door and dropped his body into the seat and again slammed the door. He didn’t say hello or good morning.
“Hey, babe. How’s your morning?” I asked.
Silence.
The silence lasted all the way to the school parking lot. It was only about a twenty-minute trip, but the silence was deafening. Ok… I thought. Didn’t expect to already have him hating me today. Thought I’d have to talk to one of his friends or something.
We rode the shuttle from the lot to campus in silence.
We walked to the oddly placed structure on the university campus called the “Center of the Universe” in silence.
He leaned over and kissed me and we walked separate ways to class.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I left the record convention before Jonathan did and ran some errands, got a few things done. I killed time and then met with Peter and his girlfriend, Jill, to discuss the service. I didn’t shed a tear when I was with them. I was sad, but the reminiscing helped with the closure of Mary’s death.
After deciding what I would do in the service I left and went home. I had decided I needed to get David’s stuff out of my apartment and I needed to do it right away. I grabbed his shot glasses and sippy cup and almost walked out of the door.
And then I remembered the shirt.
David and I had only been together for a couple weeks when he left one of his shirts at my house. He often wore a long sleeve, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled half way up over his comical t-shirts. I tried to give it back. He touched my cheek and said, “No, I want you to wear it.” I kept it and slept in it sometimes. After a week or two, he picked it up and dropped another off.
He needed to have the shirt back. I needed him to have the shirt back.
I drove the five minutes to David’s house and noticed I no longer had a working odometer or speedometer. Can anything else go wrong in my life, I thought. Mary’s dead, your car’s a piece of shit, and the only guy who has ever gotten to you decided to dump you. Two days before you bury someone you care about. What the hell did you do to deserve this? This has to be your fault. No, David is the piece of shit who made this all tumble. Sure, he couldn’t help Mary dying, but your life wouldn’t fall apart with just Mary dying. I knew these were all ridiculous thoughts, but I had never been dropped by someone I truly cared about – I had never truly cared about someone. Fuck your past, Kristen. Don’t dwell on what others have done to you. Just because you were assaulted as a kid doesn’t mean you can’t find love and can’t trust guys. Not all guys are Chris, either. They won’t all abuse you, and David has a reason for what he did. God only knows what it was, though.
When I pulled up to the house, I parked on the street. I normally pulled into the driveway, but for some reason, that didn’t feel right at the time. I gathered his things off my passenger seat, got out of the car and walked up the driveway to the door.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I thought that if I were moving around the couch enough, Sean’s hand wouldn’t make it to his destination. I figured it would skip past and go down my pants far enough that it just wasn’t comfortable. Then I realized that if I got it to move down far enough, I could lift my body and slam myself onto his arm under me and maybe break something.
I was wrong.
Moving didn’t help.
His fingers moved their way into my panties directly to his destination.
Finally they made it into my vagina.
I had to stop moving.
It hurt when I moved.
All I could do was scream and hope I didn’t pass out.
“See? You like it! You’re not moving. You love what I’m doing to you,” he spoke slowly and lowly.
I bit my bottom lip.
I sucked air into my body as quickly as I could to fight through the pain.
I have no idea how it happened, but his pants were no longer all the way on. They were unzipped and started to fall down his body, over his butt and over his thighs. He wasn’t completely exposed, but exposed enough that I was afraid of what would happen next.
His fingers were still inside my vagina.
He was moving them around.
They came in and out of my body.
Suddenly, he thrust more of his fingers inside me and I screamed in pain as my vagina was stretched and filled with his dry hands
More screaming.
“Don’t scream… you like it,” he whispered. “You can’t rape the willing.”
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