Eternal Flight

She thinks I need her help

"Can't I touch what's mine?"

What's his? Am I an object?

I shake my head and step away, but in an instant his arm is wrapped around me and I'm on his lap. I writhe to get off him, ending up sitting beside him.

Thomas holds me tightly to him and I fight back the panic, pressing my eyes shut because I don't want to see it.

I want to pretend that it's not happening, that it isn't real.

I feel his breath on my neck as he gets even closer to my ear and whispers.

"Don't you remember all the fun we've had?"

I clench my teeth, his hold not loosening, my efforts not working. Why is nothing working?

"All the fun," he continues, "You remember, don't you?" He chuckles. "Oh, good times. I loved it, I love you"

God. I swallow.

I let out a deep breath and he starts caressing my side with his fingers. I shake my head, blocking him out.

He hiccups and I elbow him, standing up.

"What are you doing?" he asks. And I turn to face him.

He doesn't shut up, "Why are you leaving me? I didn't do anything wrong!"

Of course, he didn't.

He reaches forward in a swift movement and catches a hold off my inner thigh.

All this felt like hours when it was a matter of seconds.

Thomas starts pulling me to him, but he's still sitting, not having made the effort to stand up yet. I raise my knee and drive it into his face, up his chin.

His hands off me, I flee.

Shuffling on some random shoes, ripping the front door open, I run.

I can't breathe, but I can't stop running either, my legs don't stop moving.

The picture in front of my eyes starts blurring. I finally stop and sit down on the edge of a pavement. The wall of the building behind me, but not enough so I can rest my back against it.

I curse the architects.

I'm mad, so angry, at him, at the world, at myself. So, roughly, I swipe under my eyes to feel the tears. God, so pathetic I cry at that, really?

I take a deep breath twice, but the blood inside me is boiling. I can still feel his hands on me, I feel him all the time.

Looking down at my mother's faded-pink flip-flops I managed to get on, I want to laugh.

Early winter-y wind blows, and my bare legs are covered in goosebumps. I rub my hands over them. Only in sleeping shorts and a T-shirt, I am bound to get a cold.

Crossing my arms over myself hopelessly, this doesn't make any change.

I hear the wheels of a shopping cart against the pavement, getting stuck and then I hear the cursing. Apparently, it's a grocery store I'm camping at, I scoff to myself.

I'm cold, I can't go back home, and I don't have my phone on me. Pushing myself to my feet, I stumble back. Just accepting it, I stay seated.

"Hello?"

God, do I look like I need anyone to approach me?

The same woman who was walking the shopping cart to her car is now walking towards me.

"Do you need help?"

The headache from last night's tequila dulls in my head and I press my hands to it.