The sounds of their loud voices filter through the floorboards, loud enough that I can hear them over my music.
I try to focus.
I scribble notes from my textbook, highlighters, pens, pencils, and bits of crumpled paper litter my floor and cover most of my bed.
The low evening sunlight streams into through the window, casting sharp angular shadows across my bedroom. I stand up and cross the room to the window, opening it slightly, letting the cool air sweep in. I take a deep breath, the smell of rain hangs in the air from the light shower earlier. I close my eyes.
My bedroom door squeaks open, I turn around to see the man standing in the doorway. He’s tall and broad, around the age of forty-five or so. The ends of his thinning hair are turning grey, as too are the short whiskers that grow on his jaw and across his cheeks. For a man his age, he’s handsome, in an old-fashioned kind of way.
“Um… can I help you?” I ask politely.
“Sorry, just looking for the bathroom.”
“Oh, it’s the door to your left.”
He steps further into the room. “You’re Hayley, right?”
“Yeah, and you are…” I trail off, searching for his name in the back of my mind.
“Nicholas, Nicholas Payn.”
“Right. My dad’s friend from the bar.”
“That’s me.”
“Well, like I said, bathroom’s the door to your left.” I smile sweetly.
He lingers for a moment before he takes in my room. He steps fully into the room and slowly shuts the door behind him, clicking it shut. “This is a lovely room you’ve got here, reminds me of my sister’s room when we were younger.”
“Thanks,” I say, awkwardly.
My heart begins to pound. A shiver rolls down my spine. This feels weird. He shouldn’t be in here.
I clear my throat. “You should hurry back downstairs, no doubt my dad will be wondering where you got to.” I force out a laugh that comes off shaky.
“I had one just like this,” he gasps, looking towards my dresser.
He walks towards me and picks up the Rubik’s cube that sits on top of the dresser, the same one my mom had when she was little before she passed it on to me. I can’t count the amount of hours I’ve spent trying to figure it out and not having any luck whatsoever.
He fondles it in his hands. “You know, youth is such a wonderful thing, pity we have to get old. You’ve got to hold onto youth for as long as you can, Hayley.”
My heart is beating out of my chest, it’s beating so fast I can hear it in my eardrums. He’s too close. “I’ll remember that.”
His eyes move from my face, then trail down my body, over the loose yellow dress that falls just past my knees and back up again. He licks his lips.
I back away, taking a step back towards the window. He takes a step forward. He looks off to the side where a cluster of photographs hang on the wall above the dresser, paying particular attention to the many photographs of myself, my family, and my friends.
“You’re a very beautiful girl, Hayley, your boyfriend is one lucky guy.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I reply quickly, without hesitation.
Why did I just say that?
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
The corner of his mouth curves up into a sarcastic smile. “Good.” He grips my face in his hands and presses his lips to mine forcefully. His tongue forces its way past my lips and roams my mouth, he tastes of beer and cigars.
I push away from him, using all of my strength to get him to loosen his grip. He doesn’t budge, my resistance has no effect on him at all.
I stamp down on his foot as hard as I can and he stumbles backs slightly, allowing me enough room to scramble past him as I run to the door. Just as my fingers reach for the doorknob, I’m wrenched back by my ponytail, letting out a screech. I hit the edge of the bed hard, my knees scraping sharply against the carpet. He grabs me by the waist and hoists me up onto the bed, so that I land in the center on my stomach.
He’s on top of me in seconds, straddling me, his knees locked tight around my thighs, I scream as loud as I can, but it’s muffled by my pillows, I try raising my head, but his huge hand presses it back down. Tears leak from my eyes as if someone turned on a tap and left it running. I flail my arms, trying to reach for him, or something to help me, but he grips my wrists and pulls them together, holding them both in one of his, bringing them over my head.
He leans in close. “I wouldn’t bother shouting for help, you’re dad’s downstairs passed out, it’s just you and me, darlin’.” He tugs my dress up around my waist and rips my panties from me, my thighs burn from the friction. “But you’re welcome to scream as loud as you like, I love it when they scream for me.”
No. This can’t be happening. My first time can’t happen this way. No, please God, no.
I hear the pop of a button and a zipper as he pulls himself free. He groans behind me. He pulls my hips up, so I’m propped up on my knees, my ass in the air. He spreads my legs wide, wedging me open with his knees and thrusts himself forward in one hard thrust. The pain tears through me, radiating up my body as he splits me in half. I scream, the sound ripping through my throat as he pounds into me violently from behind, his relentless thrusts sending shockwaves of agony through my body.
I lie there, unmoving.
Why attempt to fight in a losing battle? Why fight when I can’t win? Why struggle when the outcome will be the same?
I close my eyes and pretend I’m on an island, the sun
