Before they met, she told him about her dreams. He knew her desires, he knew her fears.
He knew her boundaries. She made those clear. When they met, her heart pounded in her chest. They sat awkwardly in a diner, eating pie for dinner. She felt vulnerable, but when two people meet for the first time, that's just how things are. He knew her boundaries. He invited her back to his apartment. She walked up many flights of stairs. He was so tall that he had to hunch over in the kitchen. He brought her a glass of water. They sat on the couch. He knew her boundaries. They kissed. His arms wrapped around her. They were strong. She still felt vulnerable. But he knew her boundaries. He kissed her, harder. His arms were steel around her skin. He pinned her to the couch; she could not move. He called her names. She tried to enjoy it, tried to ignore the knot in her stomach that made her want to throw up. He did things to her that she didn't want. But her throat was dry, she couldn't say no. He knew her boundaries. But he liked her. Right? And then it happened. This time, he asked her permission. This time, her voice worked. She said no, not today. He did it anyway. She screamed. Minutes later, he turned on the tv. Basketball. An important game. A rerun. Watch with me, he said. But if you tell me who won, I will kill you. I will kill you. ----------------- When she got home, she sent a text message: I had so much fun. Thank you for everything. Lies.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
(Greta) RoseA 20-something trying to find what it means to be me! Archives
December 2016
Categories
All
|