Ashley, Christian, Jeremy, Jake, Andy, and some other man I don't know the name of. They were all there. Looking at me. I must have been dreaming. My arm was bandaged neatly and my hands didn't have blood on them anymore.
I tried to sit up but CC made me lay back down. I tried again and so did he. I struggled and he sat on top of me pinning me down. No, no ,no. This-- I don't want this again. I kept thinking. I knew it had been my fantasy forever but not with CC. Not like that.
I felt a sting on my forehead as someone poured liquid on it. Alcohol, I think. Not long after the pain from the alcohol subsided, I felt a series of pinches where the alcohol was. Stitches. I felt the tension release and CC got off of me. I looked up to Andy's face looking down on me. I watched him walk to the kitchen in the tour bus and clean his hands from all the blood. My blood. He dried off his hands and walked back to me. The rest of the band left to help load out.
Andy picked my legs up and sat down. He set my legs on his lap, "So what's your name?" I stared at him and he shrugged. I didn't want to disrespect him so I responded almost immediately, "Valeri. But most people call me Val or Ri. I don't really care what you decide to call me, though." He looked at me and smiled, "I'm Andy. Its nice to meet you Ri." I nodded and tried not to blush.
"You should probably get some rest. You know, to stay pretty because you're looking pretty rough. You can take my bed if you want. It's in the back room of the bus. I can take the couch tonight," he said to me. I moved the dark brown hair out of my eyes to see his beautiful blue ones. I nodded and smiled, "That would be nice. Thank you." He got up, leaving my legs on the couch. He slid one arm under my waist and the other under my knees. I felt his warm skin as he carried me to the back of the bus. I winced as he put me on the bed. He noticed, but he didn't say anything.
I couldn't sleep in these dirty clothes. If I couldn't find something comfortable to sleep in, I would either have to sleep in my underwear or not sleep at all. It seemed like he was reading my mind because right when I was about to sit, up he said, "I don't mind." I knew what he was trying to tell me. He didn't mind me sleeping in my bra and panties. In his bed. He looked me in the eyes like he wanted to say something, but decided against it. I stood up and hugged him, laying my head on his chest. He resisted for a moment, unsure of if it was right to be this close to me, but then he hugged me tight, probably doing it because he thought I was a fan. I was, but he didn't know that yet.
I started undressing, hardly giving him enough time to look away. I had no intention to try to seduce him. I was just tired from the long day that I had dealt with. My shirt was off. I started to pull my pants down, but then I remembered the scars. I pulled them back up, hoping to God that he didn't see them. He might have not. They were at the highest part of my thigh on the inner side, hardly noticeable when my legs were put together.
I looked back at him. I saw an expression on his face that was one of the easiest to place out of all the ones he'd made since I had gotten there. It was disappointment. I was a fan. I knew how against self harm he was, but I did it anyway. It was my coping mechanism. I hugged him again and he hugged me back. He led me to the bed and sat me down. He moves down and down until he is at my pants. He had begun to make me a little nervous. What was he doing? That is when I realized that he did see them. I stood up fast and tried to push him away, but he was too fast for me. My pants were pulled down to my knees and I covered the scars with my hands.
He looked me directly in my eyes, "Do you want me to show you how much you are worth?" I nodded, hoping he would comfort me as a friend and a tear fell down the side of my face as I felt him gently lay me down, spreading my thighs barely. I felt his hands run gently up the sides of my thighs. I jerk my legs back, not knowing what he thought he was doing. He looked at me before he inspected the harm.
He looked at it, but didn't look back up. He was still looking at it when I saw a tear fall on my leg. He moved his head in closer, making me feel self conscious. He probably just wanted to get a closer look and it made him upset. At least, that's what I thought, but no. He kissed my scars. Over and over again.
He moved back up to my face, looking into my eyes as if he were searching for the reason I felt the need to do that to myself. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed my forehead. By now, my eyes were overflowing with tears. He had me scoot over and he lied down next to me, both of us laying on our backs a foot apart. For some reason I felt a tug at my heart, telling me to grab his hand, so I did. The surprising part, he grabbed mine back. Unexpectedly, he pulled me by the hand to lay on him. He cradled me, as if to protect me from something. As if he were trying to protect me from the harm of the world. And me, my small frail hands were reluctant to push him away.
YOU ARE READING
Seventeen year old Valeri Johnson, or Val, or Ri is kind of in an awkward point in her life. In the middle of depression and somewhere close to peace of mind. Her mother died when she was young. Her father is in prison. she was adopted out to an abu...