A/N: I don't own anything. Just my ideas. Which are, in this, case...dark.
I've never written something like this before. I hope I can handle it. It's sad and sweet, I suppose. You be the judge!
Mind you, this is just a prologue. Testing the waters.
It's like it's all you can think about. I mean, I try not to, but really. Do I deserve this? Why did it happen to me? Not that I wish it on someone else, I wish it just didn't happen to me. I jump at the slightest noises. My skin crawls when someone touches me. I can't sleep without the lights on.
It would be different if Dylan were here. It wouldn't have happened in the first place. I miss him so much. I miss his smile, his hair, his hands, his hugs, his kisses. I've cheated on him. I didn't want to, though. So, was it really cheating? Yes, having sex with another person is cheating.
God, why is this happening? How am I supposed to eplain to him that I can barely hold my lunch down when Paige touches me? And, nevermind when he touches me when he gets home for a break in two weeks. Oh god, it's happening, coming, burning, expelling.
I haven't even eaten anything today, how can I be throwing up so much? I'm happy no one else is here, otherwise I'd be getting grilled so hard and I just might slip and tell one of them...
NO. I cannot tell. This is disgusting, vile. I am. I can't get him off me, I can't. I shower with scolding hot water, feels like fire on my skin. Sometimes when I step out my skin is red and scratchy. When I have no more hot water, I use the cold. I can freeze him off, either.
The vibrating of my phone brings me out of my stupor. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, pathetic. The screen reads, "Dylan." God, I want him here.
"Hello?" I say, and I don't mean for it to come out like that. I sound like I'm dying.
"Marco? Are you sick or something? You don't sound so good." He asks. I hear the concern dripping in hid voice. I'm so sorry, sweetheart.
"Yeah, no. I mean I'm fine. How're you?" I ask and I know I can't fool him much longer.
"I just got out, I wanted to talk to you. I miss you. I can't wait to see you." He tells me.
"Yeah?" I say and I'm smiling like an idiot. I feel like a 14 year old girl with a stud quaterback boyfriend thats getting sweet talked for all she's worth.
"Yeah. I can't wait to touch you again. Feel you. I miss your body." He says.
"Um, How was practice?" I ask. Please take the bait Dylan, change the subject.
"It was okay. I wish you were here. My back is so sore from those stretches. I love your massages." I know what he is doing. I can't do this. I can't picture my boyfriend. Because all I see is IT. I see his face over me. And I feel his hands touching me, so rough and unforgiving.
"Hey, Dylan I have to go. Paige is home. Stuff...for, uh, homework." And I slam the phone down. Again, I feel the burning.
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