Monique

The Handsome Gentleman

She moves to the rhythm of the beat of 50 Cent's Candy Shop. The bass line is slow and deep as she sways her hips in accompaniment. Disco lights flash around her. Sweat rolls down her face and arms. People grind one another on the dance floor. Her black dress sticks to her flesh like a second skin. As she drops down low, her hair sticks to the back of her neck.

She shouldn't be here. She's snuck out of home. She shouldn't be dancing with him. She shouldn't be close to him.

His breath is hot against her ear. He smells like chocolate and mint; just like John. He's like a drug she can't get enough of. It's like snorting cocaine over and over again. She's high. She's not sure whether it's his cologne, the cocktails or the pills she took. But as Nicki Minaj says, she's higher than a motherfucker. She grinds her hips to his. It feels good. The blood rushes to her brain. The room is spinning. She hangs on to him for dear life. Her arms wrap around his neck. His hands are on her hips as the dirty dance on the floor moving their hips to the beat.

She has five things on her mind:

Forget about John.

Forget about the little boy.

Don't think about the basement.

Don't think about Blood Red.

Keep your fear at bay.

She has enough of dancing and removes their hand from his neck. She turns around to tell him goodbye. He smiles and gives her a peck on the cheek. He's a real gentleman. She takes some more shots. Her throat burns. Her head feels even lighter. It feels like she's taking poison. It's a shock to her system, but she's enjoying it. The handsome stranger sits next to her and orders another shot for himself before gulping it down. Monique can't help but notice the way his Adam's apple bobbles as he drinks.

He smirks when he catches her looking at him. Monique hides a blush. He takes her hand and leads her to the dance floor one more time.

She shouldn't be here. She should be heading home by now; or should she? Is it twelve or three am? She's not sure. She's too happy to care. The world is brighter and intense. The music fills her brain one more time. She doesn't even mind that she's dirty dancing to Pitbull, Kesha and Minaj. She can't help but laugh as he puts his arms around her.

She's in Narnia. She's sailing on the Dawn Treader. She's in battle with the Pevensies. She even gets to marry Prince Caspian. Of course, he looks just like Damon Salvatore. He has to look like him.

It's then she realises she's not on the dance floor. She's against the wall making out with the handsome stranger she met only two hours ago. Her hands go to his head trying to pry him away. He latches on refusing to let go. She is his drug. She's his for the night. She hasn't kissed anyone else but John. No one has ever touched her.

Don't think about John. Don't think about him.

John said she was too precious, too beautiful to be treated like dirt. She was worth more than a one night stand.

Don't think about John. He left you. Forget about him.

She squirms under him. He's crushing her rib cage. It's getting harder to breathe.

Her handsome stranger isn't handsome anymore. He's a monster.

She tries harder to push him away. He refuses to let go. His kisses are becoming more aggressive and needy. He wants something more. He's using her just like she used him. She doesn't want this. The drugs make her legs feel like jello. She can't do this. She can't cave in.

He touches her thigh. She snaps. She knees him in the groin. Once. Twice. The shock registers on his face before he falls to the ground.

"You bitch!" He yells, gritting his teeth. Monique hurries back to the table and grabs her bag. She passes him as she runs out the door. She doesn't look back. She takes out her phone and calls Stella. She tries to hide the quiver in her voice. She can't cry. John would never cry if he was in her shoes. He'd keep a straight head.

It feels like years until Stella comes to pick her up. They drive back to Monique's place in silence. As Monique is about exiting the car, Stella says, "You look like shit." Monique doesn't reply. She heads off to the side of the house to the open kitchen window and hauls herself inside the house. It's dark and cold. Monique is already shivering.

She carefully makes her way up the stairs praying from God to Britney Spears, the damn things wont squeak. She's safe. She's made it to her bedroom door. She slowly opens it and heads inside. She closes the door behind her and feels her way around the room until she finds the new lamp her parents bought to replace the old one. She turns it on and finds herself face to face with the mirror. Stella was right. She looks like a mess. Her lipstick is smudged all over her face. Her mascara is smeared all over her eyes. Her hair is a mess. Monique drops her bag to the floor. She feels dirty. She feels used. She's about heading off to the shower when she hears the clearing of throats.

Her parents are right behind her. Monique can't even look them in the eye.

She wishes she was dead.

She wishes the monsters would eat her.

She wants John back.