Don't Touch Her Act 2: Finding Peace

Chapter Twenty-Five

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𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓪

Adrenaline coursed through my veins the very first time it happened.

I was scared, nervous. I couldn't remember much due to the adrenaline, something I was thankful for, but it didn't matter. I remembered all the other times.

But I do remember the man.

He was of medium height and lean. I couldn't see his face.

He was kind. I was scared being in that darkened room, letting my imagination run wild. He would try and soothe me, caressing my face.

I remember his hands. They were rough and large, calloused. I hated the way they felt on my skin.

He was gentle. He made sure I was okay, being it was my first time.

But I hated him. I would always hate him. He was my first. He introduced me into this world of sexual acts. 

I remember he tasted like coffee. I hated it.

A lot of men tasted like coffee.

I wish I could forget it, the memories, the tastes of someone else's lips.

I was disgusting and infested. My blood was tainted, my bones and my skin were revolting and corrupted. I was polluted and dirty. I was rotten. It was all because of him. He introduced me to it all, he was the one that started this long road of sin and corruption. I couldn't ever forget him. He was always there. This dark silhouette in my mind, sitting in the corner, always watching, always waiting. This constant reminder of the things that happened, of what could happen.

I hated him.