Trigger warning: Sexual assault.
I just want to thank you for all the times you rode this dick.
The text illuminated my entire screen. I stared at it, in amused disbelief, before allowing myself to chuckle.
You're welcome, Mike. I tapped back, hitting send and sinking deeper into my seat.
I hated flying, especially at night. The flight attendant made her way through the aisles, helping people stow their carry-ons. My anxiety raged, and I forced myself to think of something other than the three hours it would take before I was home in Colombia.
My phone buzzed. I'm in love with you.
I wanted to both roll my eyes and drop my jaw at the same time. I knew Mike Newton was in love with me—there was a part of me that loved him, too. Or maybe just loved the low maintenance—Mike was sweet, he never asked for anything and always took what I offered. But he'd never proclaimed it. I hated that it felt nice—knowing that he would always want me, even if the feelings could never be reciprocated. I felt shitty—almost as shitty as I always did before I sent him the texts, reminding him I was home in Seattle. Having him never felt quite as shitty as the loneliness I felt before—and that's what kept us in motion.
Sorry, I'm drunk.I turned my phone off.
"Excuse me."
I wordlessly moved my knees, allowing the stranger to slide past me and into his seat. Finally, as he sat, I glanced over at him and my breath hitched. He was beautiful—green eyes and reddish hair. A thousand tiny freckles, all over his face and neck. I wondered where he was from—somewhere sunny. He would love Colombia, I thought to myself. I recognized something in him, that I knew from myself. He was stony—perhaps even brooding. I quickly looked away, not wanting to think of my own reasons or wonder why his could possibly be.
My body was hyper aware of him, and I didn't know why. It was like I could feel every molecule between us. I tried to relax, but then he would shift or sigh. He was intriguing—it was hard not to open my eyes. I wanted to engage him in conversation, but I didn't know how.
I closed my eyes during take off, gripping the seats and imaging how wonderful it would be once I was finally home.
The man beside me chatted with his friends—football or basketball, or something. I peeked, finding two other men, also handsome. One had curly hair—he was muscular and sort of jovial, I decided. I stifled a giggle imagining him in the gym every morning torturing himself. The other one was blond. He had kind eyes, and I smiled.
"Is she asleep?" Curly asked Red. I felt him shift beside me.
"No," The third one said. I couldn't pick a nickname for him. Blondie was too simple. Jesus, I considered, pronouncing it in Spanish, but it wasn't funny enough to stick. Ojos, I settled upon—and for some reason, it made me calmer and I drifted off.
I licked my lips, looking directly into his green eyes. He stared back at me—smoldering. I felt like I was on fire beneath his glance. I liked it—I felt whole, like I hadn't in so long.
I reached for him, but he dodged my hands, and began kissing my neck. I shivered, but I couldn't moan—not yet. He continued down, smiling somehow as he laid wet kisses on my chest and took each of my nipples into his mouth.
He kept going down, down, down… "Yes!" I cheered, as he stroked my wetness, the first time with his fingers, then again, with his tongue.
Suddenly everything changed. The green eyes turned black and his red hair was suddenly long and blondish—pulled into a ponytail.
"James?" I whispered.
He was pounding me and pounding me—no rhythm or care. There was blood everywhere—I could taste it and feel it on my hands. Hot and sticky. I wanted to sob and I wanted to vomit, but I did nothing at all.
James disappeared. I was alone, my body aching, exactly how it did on that night.
I jolted awake.
Fuck, I thought to myself. I rubbed my nose and looked around me. Red was staring at me, curiously. I wanted to cry—I hadn't had any nightmares in months, maybe even a year now.
Hastily undoing my seat belt, I shot up and bolted toward the bathroom.
I spashed water on my face, and sat on the toilet. I stopped thinking about James long ago. I trained myself to avoid it—why rehash it, again and again? Why deal with it? I just lived, and my memories of him existed somewhere beneath the surface. I didn't know what it was then—if he was part of me or parasitical, taking from me with each breath. I didn't know if it was barriers or a platform that I stood on, separating me from everyone.
We had been happy once. We were both students at Whitman College, then moved to Seattle together so he could start his career. When we were in school, it was perfect. It was lazy, molasses loving. Never sweet but always slow and rich.
We got to Seattle and the pace quickened. I wasn't happy anymore, working in a quaint coffee shop and dreaming of what the fuck I was going to do with my Classics degree. It was like everything was passing by me and I couldn't keep up.
Finally, I broke up with him. I had just wanted to go home, to Forks, Washington and start over. When I met him, James' temper didn't show. He started working and drinking whiskey and it was like automatic agression, all the time.
There was a knock on the door, and I realized I had tears in my eyes.
"Sorry! Sorry…" I called, standing up and peering into the mirror. So conspicuous, I noted, sighing.
I opened the door and the flight attedant was smiling at me. She looked me over, and her smile fell. "Are you okay ma'am?"
I nodded, "Mhm, yeah," I said, pushing past her and returning to my seat.
"We're going to start the desecent soon," Red said to me, as I sat. We looked into each other's eyes—but there was no sympathy in his. I appreciated it. I didn't need pity—I never did.
I never replied, but fastened my seat buckled and leaned back.
This is my new venture. It surely has been awhile. I'm looking forward to it—hopefully I'll be able to keep up with it even with classes. Next chapters coming soon!
If anything is unclear—I think that might be how I want it! It's been so long since I wrote anything though. It's hard! Lemme know watcha think, por favor!
I do thank you for reading