The first time I ever left my body was October 30 in now what will be seven years as that date passes once again.
I was 15 at the time. I was doing things I was raised on believing I shouldn’t but it was everything all the people I could relate to were doing.
At a crappy apartment with people I look at sometimes as with the thought that they were even crappier – truth is it a bitter thought or the bitter feeling it could of changed what happened and I’m sorry for it.
Us as girls dressed in the worst clothes we could find. The whole scenario and belief it was sexy before we even had a clue what it really meant.
Standing in the bathroom as my friend went we talked about the boys at the party. Her ushering me to go talk to a boy once before at another party could of done the same thing except a friend burst through the door to stop it.
He was sitting alone in a bedroom. And the push from her as we exited the bathroom put me towards the door. Did I really have a brain at this moment? Sure, but it was drowned in shots of UV blue and a beer I still hate the taste of today.
My thought to turn back around wasn’t there. I went to the room to ask him why he was alone. Sitting there smoking encased in some Kid Cudi he hardly had an answer.
He placed the computer down when he found the next song to play and all of a sudden our faces were woven together in what I sure was a more sloppy picture then I can paint with words.
As I fell back he pulled me back up only to position himself on the edge of the bad, my back turned to him, with me placed in front of him.
As his hands moved around my body it was a sense of panic. Thoughts of how to get out of this situation and him asking out loud if things could go more forward.
The words I can’t cascaded out of my mouth. I can count it at least seven times. He tossed me back to the bed as I laid there suddenly frozen I watched him walk away to the door.
The door locked with a little hook that went into a hole nestled at the very top. My legs felt weak, and I knew I couldn’t reach.
Climbing on top of me as I shoved my hands as hard as I could into the bed to push myself away he asked again. I said I can’t in my last attempt to end it.
To scare him away I told him I was on my period.
To my disgust and words I still hear him say “what are you worried it will make a mess?”
I learned I would only be able to escape if I let myself go. I couldn’t physically leave, and as he pulled the tampon between my legs I felt my soul slip away.
It was just a shell begging for it to end thinking if I just moaned it would make it go quicker.
In the time that felt like centuries minutes only went away. When everything was all said and done he picked up the tampon by the string throwing it on top of me stating “I should take care of that.”
He unlocked the door and walked away. I struggled out of the bed stumbling feeling like a baby who had no idea how to walk. I passed the bathroom I once was in moments before. The trash can laid by the door. I let go of the embarrassing thing in my hand and grasp the wall as I tried to make it to the end of the hall.
When I reached the corner my friend sat at the end of the wall I dropped like the piece of trash I just threw away into her lap as she asked, “was he good?”
Flommist Alley Scheffki is 22 years young, ‘I am the blue rose. Dies ist ein wunsch für freiheit.’ Copyright © 2016 Alley Scheffki.
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