Another night in tears, on my bed, watching the rain fall from the sky and hit the pavement below. My mouth was covered by my pillow, holding back deep sobs as memory after memory spoiled my brain.
And you must think I'm crying because of how traumatized I am from it.
But in reality, I'm crying because I'm so turned on right now from it, and the humiliation and embarrassment I feel took over my emotions, hence the crying.
His touch was harsh yet soft and gentle, and I can't help but remember him caressing every inch of my body, kissing my neck slowly as a way to savor the moment. I remember him touching me there, and me begging for him to go faster, the feeling of release just inches from exploding. I was his. His...slut. Fuck. Why did it have to sound so hot? He truly made it seem like he wanted me, like he saw me as a lover, a soulmate, and taking care of my body like a lover would do was exactly how it felt like back then.
Like how it feels right now.
Do you want to cum?
Yes.
You want me to make you cum?
Yes. Please.
No. No. No. No. No.
I refused to touch myself and get off to such an awful experience. I hate him, and no matter what I think, or what he thinks, I will never forgive him for-
"Y/n?"
I lifted my head, praying that I imagined it. But not only did he speak, but a series of knocks echoed from the hallway, confirming that he was indeed outside my room in the middle of the night, trying to get my attention.
"Y/n? It's me. Open the door."
Getting up, I closed the curtains, full darkness taking over. I tried to stay as quiet as I can, going back to bed and diving under my covers. Did he not understand what I said to him that night? I specifically mentioned never speaking to him again.
"I know you're awake. I...I haven't been getting sleep either."
Please leave.
"Come on, y/n. Open the fucking door and let's talk about this."
Open the fucking door? Is he kidding me right now?
"I will break the door down."
Why does he keep pestering me? Why can't he just forget about it?
"Y/n, please. I already look suspicious. Please help me out here."
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I got up from my bed and moved towards the door. Opening it, I came face to face with the boy himself, and looking into his eyes...looking into his black, pretty eyes that glistened from the artificial light in the hallway almost brought a calm feeling over me.
Almost.
"You've been crying." He stated, looking down at me. I averted my eyes, moving to the side to let him in.
"What are you doing here?"
I turned on the light, watching him walk over to my mini desk and taking a seat on the chair attached to it. He hid his face in his hands, and I couldn't help but stand there in silence as the rain methodically hit the roof, calming down my racing heart.
"You were crying cause of me, huh?"
He stayed hidden, waiting for me to answer. I couldn't, still surprised that I couldn't even last two weeks without talking to him or giving in to his desperate moments. Everything about him was so toxic, yet me being who I am, I knew he could be more than how he portrays himself, as a person or something more.
