TO THE STARS

PROLOGUE

 
   "It's only fair that I start from the very beginning," I suggest, slumping down once again, getting more comfortable by slightly wriggling my buttock on the green velvety couch.
  
     "I think that's a great idea," Mrs. Emerson replies, sipping from her steaming cup of tea.

     I clear my throat. "Okay then, let's begin."

                                       ...

      He was my best friend; my safe and strong tower. I trusted him with all my  heart and believed everything he said without a doubt, but he wasn't who he asserted to be. He never felt the same way. I was a merely a feeble pawn to him. Our relationship being a sick game of chess he played all too well for twelve years.
    
     The person in question was none other than Bryan Anderson; star quarterback for our school football team, tall, charming, popular, every guy and girl's dream and my best friend. He was the definition of a good guy, the type your parents would approve of.
    
     We met on the very first day my family and I moved into our new neighbourhood. I vaguely remember him being the little boy with the weird teeth who helped carry Princess Pony—my favourite doll at the time—up to my room and basically, the rest is history.
     
     We've been pretty much inseparable since then.

     We had tea parties, sword fights and went to the movies together. He protected me against bullies when I couldn't and comforted me in my I–know–what–love–is stage.

     Despite my ridiculous ample number of female friends, I always seemed to draw back to him for advice and pretty much anything else. He was my ride or die, my partner in crime.

                                      ...

      It was late June, on the thirtieth day and during the twenty second hour. A storm was fast approaching, the thunder show outside my windows could testify. I went to bed as usual with my favourite playlist playing softly in the background. I was wearing my fluffiest pyjamas and daydreaming about all the exciting places I would get to explore on my trip through Europe this coming holiday. A trip my brother and I had planned for months.
    
     Everything was in perfect order.
    
     Or so I thought.
    
     It all happened so fast. How he entered my room without me realising was totally beyond me.
    
     He covered my mouth and began to roughly undress me. He held unto my neck firmly, making screaming near impossible to do. He called me names and laughed in my face, telling me that no one would ever believe me.
    
     At the back of my mind, I knew all he was spitting out were all lies but I just couldn't help but believe him.
    
     He was right, my family adored him after all. They considered him as a second son. They would never believe me, I thought— even in that horrid moment.
    
     The only thing I remember doing was screaming—or at least trying to—kicking and begging, but did he listen?

     No. No he didn't.
    
     He chose to strip me off my dignity and on top of it all, blame me for his actions. He bit at my skin, whispering how I kept giving him signals. He blamed for me for being wickedly inconsiderate, coming to him with all my boy dramas when I had an understanding of what he really felt for me. He mocked me, saying it was my fault that he had to violate me. He said it was my reward—my punishment—for refusing to see clearly when he tried to express his feeling on several occasion.

     His harsh whispers slowly turned to wild yelling. His face was twisted in anger and probably something else. He was angry because I saw him only as a brother. He claimed that I liked to play hard to get, pushing him to make decisions for me. Decisions I never consented to.
    
     Five minutes?
    
     Ten?
     
     Maybe more?

     His physical and verbal abuse went on, hurting and scaring me from the inside out.
    
     Something in me snapped, as well as the door hinges. Someone was making at the door. It busted open seconds later, giving way to whoever heard the commotion emitting from the room.
   
     There's no point, I thought. The deed is already done. I could feel the warmness of his seed mockingly crawling out of me as he pulled out.
    
     My brother's voice boomed loudly before I saw his face behind Bryan's and above mine.
     
     "You bastard!" He yelled before yanking him off me.
    
     I could hear the intensity of their scuffle as I laid there staring at the ceiling, feeling dirty despite my shower few minutes ago. I laid still, wishing that all that just happened was all a terrible dream; a very terrible dream.

A/N

For returning readers: The storyline is still the same, only edited and made better.

For new readers: You're welcome.

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