12We've just had another fight. I extremely dislike fighting with him. I never can figure out if I truly hate him or not. I want to, I really do. It always feels like I'm the only one bothered by these little quarrels that we have. They don't seem to have any affect on him, even when he's sobered up. Every time I always feel that I shouldn't be mad at him, even though I want to be, I want to hate him.
We usually have a big fight like this once every two weeks. They usually don't last long, we make up a day or two later.
I look down at my watch, which reads 11:23. Man, there's no way I'm going to make it across the town in seven minutes. I have to be home by eleven thirty or my parents will kill me.
I had asked him to bring me home, begged him. He just got angry. He wasn't ready to leave. I hate going to those little parties with him. I hate to see him drunk, but I don't try to stop him. Well, I did once, he laughed at me like I don't know anything. I couldn't do anything more, not only is he three years older than me, he's also a foot taller than me.
Seeing him and all of his friends drunk is the worst thing ever. They ask him if his current "bitch", which is how they refer to me, is any good. He'll laugh and with a quick thrust of his pelvis answer, "Of course, I've never picked a bad one, have I?"
I know that he doesn't mean it and he probably won't even remember it by the next morning but it hurts that, even for a second, he thinks of me as just another monthly bitch.
And lately his drinking habits have only seemed to be getting worse. He'll drink until he's passed out and I somehow manage to get him home or he wakes up the next day in the same spot. If I ever tried to get him to stop then he'd really get mad, he's always quick to anger when he's had a few drinks. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's never hit me. He would never do anything like that! He just yells a lot.
When he's sober he's my boyfriend, the boy he was when we first met. The boy who took me out of misery.
Lights flash in front of me and I look behind me to see a car heading up the road. I begin to walk more in the middle of the sidewalk than the outside, waiting for them to pass.
Instead, I hear a low whistle come from right behind me. I turn to see a car of about five or six guys driving slowly beside me.
"Hey, kid, you need a ride?" One asks me sticking his head out the back window. It's quite obvious that they've been drinking or using another drug. A high-pitched cackle comes from in the car.
"No thanks," I tell them, beginning to speed up my pace.
They don't leave though.
"Where ya headed?" He asks as another head pokes out from the darkness of the car above his.
"Home," I say quietly, wishing they would just leave me alone. At this he opens the door and him along with the other male practically fall out.
"Ah, why so early?" He asks, coming to stand on my left while his friend comes to my right.
I look at both of them uneasily. The cars still following us and I begin to get a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"Yeah, come with us, we'll show you a good time," the one on the right speaks for the first time.
The one who spoke first is about 5'7" and wears a baseball cap along with sunglasses. There is absolutely no reason to be wearing sunglasses at eleven thirty at night but it just makes him more intimidating because I can't get a good look at his eyes.
The other is slightly taller at about 5'9" and has black curly hair. His pupils are dilated to their full extent, so it's quite obvious he's been taking something.
I try to get away from them by walking swiftly. Stumbling a bit they still manage to keep up. I would run but I'm scared they'll start to get violent or use their car as a weapon, which wouldn't be good.
"Whassa matter? We don't bite," "Sunglasses" says, hooking his arm around my waist, forcing me to stop along with him. I pull away from him only to back into "Curly" who leans down to whisper in my ear.
"Not hard," he says and takes a nibble at my ear before letting out that same high-pitched cackle that had come from the car only moments earlier.
I try to make a run for it now but Curly's arms are both around my waist, the only affect I have is them tightening.
"Let go of me," I say, a crust of panic evident in my voice.
This time Sunglasses laughs too, but his is a low rumble. "Don't you trust us?" He asks walking over to the back car door and opening it gesturing us in.
"This will be fun," Curly mumbles in my ear and suckles down my neck before throwing me in the car, only to be vultured by another kid who puts an arm around my neck to stop me moving. My breathing is fast and ragged as Sunglasses and Curly struggle to remove my black hoodie.
"Stop! Leave me alone!" I yell over and over, making attempt at kicking them while being held. They finally manage to remove my hoodie only to be hassled with my T-shirt underneath. The driver looks back in the review mirror with an evil smile on his face before pulling over to the side of the road.
"You guys weren't planning on letting me miss out on this, were you?" He asks, getting out of the car.
The rest of them pile out dragging a disorderly me along with them. They carry my kicking form down a dark alley.
I don't even get a chance to see all of them clearly before Curly's rubbing me through my jeans, trying to get something out of me, so they get nicknamed "Driver", "Passenger", and "Vulture".
My hands tremble as I try to push him away but he's consistent and continues, hands roaming everywhere. "Stop," I whisper quietly tears coming to my eyes, my voice sore from yelling before.
Driver, who's obviously their leader, steps up pulling out his switchblade. My eyes widen as he brings it up to my cheek, while kissing my neck.
"Now," he mutters against my neck, "I promise not to mess with this pretty face of yours if you be a good little boy and be quiet," he tells me, putting the tip of the blade under my chin and lifting it up to meet his eyes. He hooks his fingers in my belt loops and throws me to the ground.
I try backing away but it isn't long before he's straddling my waist and Passenger and Sunglasses are holding my arms. Using the knife he cuts open my T-shirt.
"So smooth," he mumbles running his hands over my chest. Suddenly, he leans down and bites on piece of my pale flesh. I clench my teeth to keep from screaming. He bites three more places on my chest before clamping his teeth around my nipple. The pain becomes too much and I let out a small yelp. It's not very loud but enough to make him stop and look up at me with a disapproving look on his face.
"I'm only staying true to my half of the promise," he says, grabbing the knife from Curly and slashing quickly across my cheek.
Although the pain is almost unbearable I keep quiet and he hands it back to him. Smiling at me evilly he leans down and licks the blood that's dripping down my face before slowly undoing my zipper and button on my pants. I try to wiggle my way away from them but not only are they holding my arms but he's got all of his weight now on my legs.
In one swift movement my pants, along with my boxers, are at my knees. I feel my face become red with shame as Vulture, Curly, Passenger, Sunglasses and Driver all stop and have a good look at me, each with their own baneful grin on their face.
Driver gives me one last look before taking out his own member. I feel tears of fear and disgrace with myself fall down my face involuntarily. There's no way I can possibly get away. I wish I had taken the chances of my parents killing me and stayed with Joel.
He's all I can think of as this stranger thrusts into me. Violates me. I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from screaming and I taste my own blood in my mouth. I wish Joel were here. I try to concentrate on him and our memories together to distract myself from the pain. I'm not used to this, I'm used to the condoms and lubricator that Joel uses.
By the time that the last one takes me I've tuned out, gone somewhere else. I've made someone else take over; I don't even struggle any longer. It's like I've left my body, an unnatural feeling; this surreal, dreamlike sentiment.
I stay there long after they leave, laughing and joking, all in good spirits. I just curl up and cry. Afraid to move, afraid to make noise, afraid that this time I really am just Joel's bitch.