I feel alive, different. Everything he did with his mouth and his hands was perfect. I dare to say magical. My pussy clenches with the memory of his fingers buried deep inside me. It was scary at first, but his voice, his scent, and the way he touched me eased my fears. Tonight was better than I imagined. It ended on a nice note, until he excused himself and left for his room.

“Tonight, I’ll sleep in my bedroom,” he said, his face somber. His magnetic blue eyes though were two pools of desire.

He left me confused as fuck and wishing for a lot more. How can he expect me to be apart from him after that kiss, after he touched me?

As I told him, he gave me a little piece of myself back. In exchange, he took away a piece of my heart.

How can he just leave as if nothing’s transpired between us?

I hoped that after what happened he’d stayed in bed with me. Once I was done crying with pleasure, I still wanted more. He promised that the next time he’d lick me dry, said it right after he sucked on his wet fingers.

Instead of staying next to me and cuddling, he left.

Stop thinking so hard, Abby. He’s a gentleman. Wes always keeps his word. If he said he’d take it slow, let him take it slow.

I start my nightly routine: a shower, followed by brushing my teeth, and putting on my pajamas. Once I’m done, I turn off my bedroom lights and make sure that all my nightlights are working. That’s when I hear the loud music.

“What the hell, Ahern?”

Why is he listening to Nine Inch Nails and so loud? Love that song, but “Closer” isn’t what I want to listen to while I’m trying to fall asleep. I ignore the music and start counting, but I swear that I can hear him grunting.

“That’s it. You’re not going to take away my little bliss and keep me awake all night with your noise and that music.”

I make my way over to his bedroom, ready to give him a piece of my mind. The light in his bedroom is on and the door is half-way open. As I’m about to open it wide, I spot him. He’s totally naked. His eyes are closed, one hand leans against the wall, and the other holds his dick.

My eyes open wide and though I’m aware that I should be walking away, I don’t move. I’ve seen him wearing swimming trunks and often admired his taut body, those long, muscular legs and his toned ass. I get a peek of his defined torso which is glistening with sweat. And those fingers, the same fingers that were inside me only minutes ago are now working his shaft.

His cock is long and thick. My legs shake as my core begins to throb with want. The music and his grunts are making me want more. I want to step into his room and help him get off. Would I be able to take him in my mouth? I’ve never done it, but right now, I’m fantasizing about doing it. What would it be like to suck his cock? The song switches to an old pop song that I hate, “Call Me Maybe.”

Suddenly I’m not in Tahoe, but in my old house. A man hovers over Ava who is on her knees crying. My heart thuds so loud it muffles the music. I stand, paralyzed with fear. My muscles cramp. I’m unable to move as I watch Ava being tortured by a man while her father yells at her and her brother holds a video camera. But then, it’s not her. It’s me in the corner.

“Take it, bitch,” Corbin commands. “I said take it.”

“I won’t do it, you can’t force me,” I cry my lungs out and scream. “This time you won’t catch me.”

I run fast, flying out of the house but not before I grab the car keys. He’s close, I can feel him. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I run away from everything. This time they won’t get to me. Distance is all that matters. I sure as hell won’t stop for anything. I turn on the engine, push the gas pedal twice. The roaring sound promises that I can be far away and safe.

“Abby!” I jolt when I hear my name. It’s Wes knocking on the window with both fists, desperately.

“Open the door. What’s happening?”

His wide eyes observe me, filled with worry and fear. I swallow not knowing what’s happening. Why did I react without thinking of where I really was? I am losing my grasp of reality.

“It’s okay,” he reassures me. “Turn off the engine and open the door. It’s me.”

My hand trembles as I reach for the button and turn off the engine. The locks open automatically. Wes swings the door open and takes me into his arms.

“What happened?”

I don’t know, I think without saying a word. They’re stuck inside my throat along with the tears. This is too much. I can’t. I just …

“You’re safe,” he says, his words sound empty, hesitant.

His doubt crashes against my chest and destroys me completely. From my eyes pours a thick flow of tears. I cry as if my insides are being shred. Emotional pain flows out of every pore of my body. I shake violently as the whole world vanishes before me. Everything is a blur, I breathe heavier than I ever have before, gasping for air. My throat burns. All I feel now is agony.

“We have to talk, Abby. This isn’t normal. What you said upstairs …”

What did I say?

I’m losing my fucking mind. I can feel it unravelling. Threats of all the memories I can recall from that time scatter all over the place. He’s just talking; there’s nothing incriminating I could’ve said. I know better than to let anyone know what happened in that house.

“Abby, what’s happening?”

Talk idiot. Say something.

Wes needs to know that I’m fine. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My upper body and shoulders wrack with every sob that forces its way out, my chest rising and falling unevenly as I gasp for air. I squeeze my eyes shut, balling my hands and throwing my head back to let out a blood curdling scream. There’s too much raw pain inside me to be contained.

He scoops me from the seat and carries me into the house. Once we’re in my room, he sets me on the bed and lies down next to me.

“I’m here for you, but in order to help you, you have to let me in.”

Why would I want him to be part of a world where there’s only darkness and ugliness? I cry harder like my spirit needs to break loose from my skin, desperate to release the agony and rage on the world. Wes’ soothing words make no difference this time. I’m beyond all reason, beyond any methods of calming.

Wes doesn’t give up and begins counting while pressing me against his body as if he’s trying to fuse us. I’m not strong enough to fight his hold or to join him. Suddenly my eyes are heavy, and his voice is a distant dream.

The house was dark. Mom left two days ago, promising to come back at night. There wasn’t anything in the refrigerator. The power was out. It was the beginning of winter. A bitter December. Grandma, who never left me by myself, died only days before. I recalled the day she lectured me for wanting to stay home alone.

“Not until you’re thirteen and you show me that you’re responsible enough to be on your own. Kids should always be supervised.”

My mother didn’t care for me. When she left, I pleaded for her to stay or take me with her.

“Please,” I whimpered quietly, afraid she’d hit me.

“If you draw any attention to yourself, you’re going to pay, stupid kid.” She banged the door as she locked it.

At night, I counted along with Elly, my stuffed elephant. The one Grandma gave me when I was little. Morning came and went. My stomach growled. I missed two days of school. I missed the spelling test and the new words for the next week.

I waited right by the door. On the third night, she finally made it home. When she saw me, her eyes flared.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was waiting for some food.”

“You don’t deserve anything,” she screamed.

“Grandma always fed me.”

“Look at me.” She pulled me by the hair and closed the door behind her.

“I said look at me!” she squeezed my cheeks very hard after slapping me a few times. My face stung.

“You’re hurting me,” I mumbled, tears dripping slowly down my face. “Grandma never hurt me.”

“I don’t fucking care what my mother did or didn’t do,” she screamed into my face, her hot stinky breath burning my eyes. “She’s dead!”

“Grandma loved me.” I squeezed my stuffed elephant tighter.

“My mother didn’t love anyone. She was just as bad as my drunken father,” she screamed into my face, her hot stinky breath burning my eyes. “Dad hit me with his fist. She hurt me with her attitude.”

She slapped me hard. My head snapped back, and the room spun. I touched my burning cheek and stared at her with hate. Mother snatched Elly and pulled a lighter out of her purse. She lit it and held it under Elly.

“Not Elly!” I screamed, running after her. She dropped my stuffed elephant into the sink. I cried harder while the flames consumed it.

“I hate you!” I yelled at her. “I want Grandma back.”