Page 83 of Beauty Beneath the Sorrow
“Only you and me, baby.” He bites my cheek. A sharp pain shoots upmy face and into my ear. I cry out in desperation.
Then, he takes one hand and quickly unbuckles his belt.
I hear his zipper slide down.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins, and I flail my arms and scream.
But no one can hear me over the music blasting downstairs and the storm outside. I attempt to kick him, but my movements are still slower and uncoordinated from the alcohol.
Kirk’s hand finds the bottom of my dress and yanks it up—the sound of ripping fabric ricochets off the walls.
At that moment, I realized this would happen whether it was my choice or not, so I gave up. I released every bit of fight I had left.
“I knew you’d want this.” He mocks into my ear as his hard length is shoved into me. My stomach clenches as bile climbs up my throat. Tears continue to spill as Kirk thrusts in and out without rhythm. The skin on my thighs stung from his skin forcefully rubbing against mine. The dryness from my insides causes each of his movements to be utterly painful.
The bass from the music downstairs buzzes through the floor beneath us—the boisterous rain pounds through the cracked window in the bedroom. A light, damp breeze seeps in and dances across my red, swollen cheek.
Kirk continues to rail into me, kissing my barely moving chest as the storm intensifies. After a rumble of thunder shakes the walls of the two-story cabin, lightning flashes illuminate Kirk’s glassed-over eyes and misted face.
An unclear amount of time passes before he finishes on top of my dusty pink prom dress. I lay still with my eyes locked in place, watching the storm rage outside through the sliver of the open window.
Kirkhastily puts his pants back on. Then he turns to fix my dress, pulling it down to my ankles.
“I’m sorry, Lina. I wanted to lose my virginity to you,” he apologizes, opening the bedroom door.
“Get the fuck away from me, Kirk.”
A slam of the door is the last thing I hear before I realize I’ll never be the same again.
I black out for a short amount of time, reliving that night. Clamping my eyelids shut, I’m both surprised and not—that the details are still so vivid. Every one of them came hurtling back from the hidden corners of my brain as if no time had passed. The details weren’t dusty or skewed but crystal clear, like they were waiting to be brought to the surface once again. And like countless times before, my chest tightens, my skin crawls, and my lungs constrict.
I’m ripped from the dense fog when a tight embrace and broad shoulders squeeze around me.
“Fuck, Lina,” Carter says with a broken voice. He rests his chin on the top of my head, pushing my face into his bare skin. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. What a fucking piece of shit.”
Gently lifting my arms to loop around his back, I breathe out a heavy exhale—a release that tingles from my toes, up my spine, and to the back of my head. My heartbeats become steady.
“It was a horrible experience.” I hold on to him tighter.
“Did anything happen to him?”
I chew on the inside of my lip. “Do you mean if I told anyone?”
“Yes.”
I shake my head, ashamed. “Who would have believed me?”
His muscles flex. “What do you mean?”
“I went to that party. I went upstairs with him,” I continue. “I got drunk—”
“Stop.” Carter draws his head back, locking eyes with mine. His amber pupils dilate. “That doesn’t fucking matter. You said no.”
I look away, feeling defeated and barely able to meet his stare. “Yes, I understand that, but I’m the type of girl these things happened to.”
“What? What the hell do you mean by that?”
“I was flirty, and my boobs barely fit into my shirts by the time I was sixteen. I was a cheerleader, went to parties, and loved the attention of the guys.” I lift to rest my back against the headboard.
