Chuck swore he would take everything from me. We've had our battles, our wars. We've each gone too far, but this. This was inexcusable, unforgivable by anyone, ever. He wanted to take away everything, until I had nothing. He succeeded.
It started with the small things. I rarely ever saw my parents, a few updates on the things I was doing and saying alienated them even further. If you had to choose between spending time "working" or whatever in exotic locales where everything seems like a vacation or coming back to NYC with it's harsh weather and even harsher realities to deal with an unruly child, which would you choose? It's a given. Picking off my fair weather friends and minions was probably even easier for him. No one was all that impressed with my stunt with Eva. Serena moved out, back in with Lily and Rufus. I tried not to think about what we had both said about being sisters. When two people are as self-absorbed as we are, what surprise is there that our friendship didn't last? Kicking me out of school and embarrassing me in front of anyone who had any social influence in anyone's life seemed like the final straw. I became like a ghost, wandering the house, never leaving. What for? There was nothing left for me. Even Darota did not know what to do to help me. But little did I know how much worse it could get.
I've never been the frail, damsel-in-distress type. I know what I want. I know I can get what I want, so I do. This. This was too much. I wasn't leaving the house to go anywhere. No one visited. He knew my lifestyle. Knew no one was going to be there but me.
I lounged lazily on my oversized bed, watching Audrey Hepburn go through her life, taking on her challenges with style and grace. If only I had conducted myself that way, maybe I wouldn't be alienated from everyone I've known. Everyone hated me. Everyone. I was used to nearly everyone hating me, but this... I sighed and tried to push away the self pity. This wasn't helping.
A sharp knock at my door made me jump. Was it Darota? I couldn't imagine who else it could be. I got up from my bed, straightening my satin pajamas, smoothing my hair. No need to look like I was in a total disarray. I opened the door and was immediately taken aback. Fear rose in my chest and I began to back away from the door, although looking back I don't know good I thought this would do. There was nowhere to go. A man with a ski mask on stood in my doorway, wearing all black, holding a sock in one hand. A boot lay on the floor in the hallway behind him, and looking down the mate was still on his foot.
I took all this in, my eyes large with disbelief, fear, confusion. I think I may have whispered a small "Please..." He walked forward with purpose. I tried to flee, I swear I did. Maybe I was in shock, I couldn't move fast enough. I swore I screamed. I did, didn't I? I replay this moment over and over, trying to figure out was there a way I could've escaped? Whatever the answer, he grabbed me, held the sock over my face until everything fades to black.
When I came around, it was still happening. My head hurt and everything was foggy, I couldn't remember, couldn't focus. I was aware of pain, of small details. His mouth on my breast, the way it sounded as he sucked at my flesh. The way he felt inside me, how much it hurt. The crooked tilt of his mouth, the gleam of his teeth as he got what he wanted and I couldn't seem to form two thoughts to make an action and fight back. The heat of his breath as he whispered in my hear that he wanted to cum inside me but wouldn't. Or was it that he couldn't? And the smell. The awful smell of sex that would likely haunt me for the rest of my life. Why was my head so foggy? It was throbbing. I starting crying, begging him to stop. Tried to push him away. I couldn't, I wasn't strong enough. "Please," I cried. "Stop." He ignored me. Through the haze, I tried to think of other things, prayed this would end soon. He grunted. It seemed like he vanished into thin air, taking his sock and boot with him.
I lay there, sobbing. No one was coming to find me. After what felt like hours, maybe days, I sat up. Blood rushed to head and I nearly fell over. I saw I was on the floor. There were bruises on my arms and legs, hickies across my chest, my pelvic area throbbed in pain. I closed my eyes, fighting back another wave of tears, as I began to feel. Feel the shame and guilt, like I was in thousands of tiny pieces that could never go back together. Not in the right order. What do I do now?