Fucking emo

I fucking told her everything

I fucking told her everything. Well, everything I could tell, at least.

We started meeting after school, and our conversations always revolved around him and me.

I confessed to her how I couldn't stop watching him, how he was constantly on my radar. I revealed how my anger towards him grew, leading me to collaborate in his degradations. I admitted to initiating some of the actions myself.

I shared with her the guilt I felt. I recounted how, after my first visit to his room, I destroyed every single pair of underwear he owned by wedging them over his head. I told her about replacing his boxers and systematically ripping them off within days.

I revealed that he was now left hanging from a tree in the middle of the woods all night, and how I struggled to sleep, uncertain if he would survive.

I confessed that it had become a fucking rush.

"He wanted it," I kept repeating over and over again, trying to justify my actions. "He practically begged for it. He needed it, I swear."

What did I care anyway? It was just what it was, and I took advantage of it. His smell, his bones, his hair, his grunts. He was hurt, and I abandoned him, alone.

Then it began to rain.

I told her about how someone hacked his Instagram account and uploaded every painful humiliation he endured. Everyone online felt sorry for him, but no one did anything.

Sometimes she would sit so close to me that our chairs touched, whispering to each other. Eventually, she started cuddling me.

Then one day, she said that the reason I was so rotten was that I couldn't relate. It hurt to know she thought of me like that.

"What could I do?" I asked her. "What should I do?"

"Well," she replied matter-of-factly, "how about you wedgie yourself?" And I just did it.

Suddenly, I found myself pulling on my own underwear in that empty classroom while she watched from behind a desk. Every day after that, I would perform the ritual. I would stand up at the beginning or end of our meetings and start pulling my boxers up. Sometimes I would strip, not always. I started doing it because clothes were bothersome when wedgieing oneself, but also because I enjoyed her eyes fixed on me, always on me.

Then one day, while I was in the middle of it, she brought out her phone and started recording me. I was going to make the underwear stretch over my head for the first time, so I didn't stop. I don't know why, I was so close.

I pulled higher, silently grunting in pain, and managed to slide the underwear over my forehead and eyes. Then, out of nowhere, she said, "What are you doing? Please stop! Stop!"

I heard her put the phone down on the desk, but I kept the underwear over my head. I felt so exposed, even though I wasn't. I was frozen. What had I done? This was her idea.

She simply stated that it was insurance, and then she approached me, kissing me passionately, her tongue inside my mouth.

I was destroyed.

After some time, she released me.

☆