A figure appeared in the doorway. A halfa—I could tell by the glow he emanated. This one was something I didn't expect though… He looked like a teenage boy around my age. He was a scrawny little thing that had white hair, white gloves, white boots, a white belt, a white shirt collar, and a white logo on the chest that looked like a D with a smaller P inside. The rest of his suit was black. DP…wonder what that stood for, assuming it stood for anything—these things were crazy, remember? For all I knew, and for all I cared, it could just be his two favorite letters or something.

What really got me was how human he looked. Yes, he was a halfa, and yes, he would look humanistic, but most of them, if not all of them, looked more ghostly—halfas could take on both human and ghost forms, although they always seemed to prefer their ghost form. I'd always thought of it as some sort of show for strength. At that thought, I wondered what this string bean registered on the three-seven scale. He certainly wasn't much to look at, and he hardly induced fear in me—I was still a bit wary, considering how deceptive halfas could be. A part of me somewhere deep inside wanted to laugh at him and his utter lack of intimidation, but those striking emerald eyes held me stiff. His entire face was completely void of emotion, making him seem cold and serious. It wasn't enough to be intimidating, but it was enough to make me take mental notes to be cautious around him.

He closed the door and looked straight into my eyes. No emotion whatsoever in him. If I died he wouldn't care. A stick bug with those eyes was unreal. I had never expected eyes that could rip a hole in your mental processes from any of the halfas here. Losing a train of thought just didn't cut it with those things.

He muttered something incomprehensible and tried to shove his thick, messy hair out of his face only to have it fall back to its original position.

"Clothes off," he said.

His voice had a slight echo to it, but then, why would I expect any different? He was a halfa, and a creepy one at that. So yes, of course he would have a voice like that. Made him all the creepier—probably what he was going for.

"No," I firmly replied, turning my head and folding my arms to look as stubborn as possible.

He sighed, clearly becoming impatient with me even though he had just spoken to me not moments ago. I couldn't help but assume that he had just gotten through doing something stressful or tiring. "It wasn't a suggestion. Clothes off. Now."

I huffed and, obviously offended by a perverted halfa, repeated myself, this time bouncing my arms just once. If I could prove my point maybe he would just get me to work.

"Last chance. Take off your clothes," he growled.

I knew I would waver if I looked into his eyes, so instead I kept a steady gaze to the side and grunted.

"Fine. We do this the hard way," he muttered as he pulled out what looked like a blue gun with a flat top.

I immediately caught sight of it and my eyes widened. Suddenly being stubborn and rebellious didn't seem like such a good idea and now it was too late to backpedal.

As he came nearer to me, I let my arms drop to my side and scrambled backward until my back was pressed up against the wall. All my strong will vanished and I was helpless, at the mercy of a twig with a gun. If this was his version of "the hard way", then I wanted nothing to do with it. I never wanted anything to do with this place to begin with but now…!

I closed my eyes so I wouldn't see it coming.

I felt the tip of it press against my…stomach? What? What did the gun do, inject poison in me or something? If he was going to shoot me he could at least make it a close-ranged headshot. Halfas…

His thumb hovered over a black button on the topmost part of the gun and he pressed it a little further against me. He hit the button and I immediately felt a sharp pain where the gun was pointed.

…Did he shoot me? Was that it?

I heard the gun beep and my eyes snapped back to it. Was it even a gun…? It sure enough looked like one but I could just as easily be wrong.

The halfa took the gun away and I saw a tiny red mark where it had been. It looked like I had only been pricked. So…he wanted my blood? Was that what the gun was for? He scared me out of my wits just to take a blood sample?! These halfas really were nuts!

A small screen popped up from the gun—assuming it was a gun—and it seemed to show a graph with at least ten differently-colored lines rising up and down. Some of them were low, some were high, and some of them kind of plateaued. Others started high then plummeted, and it was reversed for the rest. The stickman carefully examined it, eventually zooming in on two lines, both lower, with the press of a button. Was it something in my blood, like my oxygen levels or some kind of…um…whatever else was in the blood? I honestly couldn't read that graph—I'd never been good with them. Maybe oxygen levels were one of those lines, but what were the other nine?

The screen went black and snapped back into its little slot in the gun. He mumbled something to himself that I couldn't quite make out and tucked the gun into his belt.

He then proceeded to undress right in front of me. First he took off his gloves, boots, and belt. I found it a little odd that he would even need a belt when his pants didn't start to slip or fall down. Then he took off his shirt and pants. Halfas wore boxers…? I shut my eyes as those came off too.

What an amazing first day… I hadn't been here all of one hour and already there was this weird, tiny halfa who… Oh no. Crap, how did I miss that? Before he'd undressed, he kept telling me to take my clothes off. What, did he really think I was going to let anything happen between us? I didn't know him! He didn't know me! Last thing I needed was some sick, perverted halfa near me, or even in the same building as me!

"Out of chivalry, I'll ask you one last time to take your clothes off," he said in the same cold, even tone he'd used earlier. This time, though, it didn't hold a hint of anger, frustration, or pretty much anything for that matter.

Without opening my eyes—I had zero desire to see a naked stick thing—I told him, "No chance, Stick Bug; go ask one of your own girls."

I heard him produce a noise of discontentment.

"Just do it," he ordered.

I shook my head.

Without another word, I heard him come forward, closer to me. And I got this sudden feeling of regret. The gun was on the ground, nestled in the pile of his clothes. He had nothing on him; unless he had been packing something in his boxers—I highly doubted that but I remembered that I had to keep an open mind to everything here. I shouldn't have anything to fear. He was a halfa, and although I was wary of him, he was literally just a twig shaped like a glowing half-human.

I still refused to open my eyes, partly because I didn't want to see what was coming—it was clear that something was going to happen; I just wasn't sure what.

I didn't realize how close he'd gotten until I felt strong hands grab my shoulders. He was a halfa and a pervert but he wouldn't actually force himself on me…right?

Just to take precautions, I tried to step back only to realize that I'd already backed up against a corner when I saw his gun. I was trapped now…

He swiftly moved on hand down to my wrists and grabbed them both, soon holding them up to my arms' full extent. The other hand moved from my shoulder to the hem of my shirt, where he shoved it above my head. I wanted to struggle as he somewhat freed my wrists—he kept a firm hold on them, but had to switch hands and separate my wrists because of my shirt—but I found myself unable to move. It was just a shirt… He didn't take off anything too major. All he had exposed was my bra, nothing more.

And why not jinx it as he used his whole body to press me very tightly into my little corner? It was only when he took off my pants that I began to truly feel the fear. Suddenly he was extremely dangerous, something to be terrified of. Panic, I discovered, would come just moments later.

When I got scared, my body always stiffened. Right now I was petrified. So, needless to say, he had no trouble whatsoever getting the rest of my clothes off me. If not for the fear I would've been embarrassed. Halfa or not, he was a male; he was of the opposite sex. But all things considered, nudity was the least of my worries. I was proven wrong—these halfas, or at least this one, would force themselves on me.

I was pushed to the ground, flat on my back, and I shuddered when I felt him on top of me. Now I wanted to open my eyes. I wanted to glare at him and remember his face when he did this. But when I did look at him, I found myself having to look away. It was his eyes… They were so cold and dull, almost lifeless… At the same time they were bright with energy and, dare I say it, emotion. It was hard to understand how his eyes held no emotion, but at the same time, held emotion. It was almost like there was a glint of something behind all that murky green dread.

And then it struck me. Lust.

At that single word, I snapped my legs shut, my eyebrows furrowing with the little determination I had left. But it was no use fighting against him. Halfas were ten times as strong as any human, so he had no trouble opening them again.

I knew it was pointless but now it was panic time. I had held off for as long as I could but now that I was about to be violated, I was sent into overdrive. My body convulsed. I bucked under him, trying everything to get away. I tried to roll, push him off, squirm free…and nothing worked. He was still on top of me. This was still going to happen.

I felt him position himself, getting ready to deflower me. I jerked around several more times, again to be proven a fruitless effort. I tried to get my mind under control. There was no way out. Even if I managed to get out from under him, where could I go? I was locked up in a small metal room with nowhere but the bathroom to go. Something told me he wouldn't hesitate to follow a lady into the bathroom.

I tried so hard to keep realization at bay. Mentally, I kept swatting at it, trying to shoo it away as if it was an annoying fly incessantly buzzing around my head. In spite of my attempts to push it back, it hit me anyway and I immediately calmed down—physically. My mind wasn't functioning the way it should; now it was drowning in a vast sea of turmoil.

Maybe I would've thought more about it, perhaps even managed to go into deeper thought about it, but I felt a sharp pain down below and knew that he had finally entered me. The pain was intense and only grew as he kept going. The closest I could possibly come to describing it would be the feeling of being slowly split in half. I would rather have been electrocuted to death than to suffer through this.

It came to the edge of my attention that I was now screaming for him to stop. He was ignoring me entirely. I was verbalizing, to the top of my lungs, the one thought that kept running through my mind—"STOP!" And he wouldn't listen.

After about fifteen minutes of continuous torture, resulting in agony and more desperate cries on my part, I all but lost my voice. Ironically, that was when he decided to get out of me and get off of me. As soon as he was off me, I closed my legs—more on reflex than anything else.

I turned onto my side and slowly curled into a tight little ball. I closed my eyes again and this time, I didn't open them. That kind of pain was something I knew I would never forget.

I heard the sound of cloth moving against skin and knew he was getting dressed. Not long after, I heard the clunk of the door, and the resounding echo of it shutting. I was expecting the light to flicker off, just to help match the lonely setting of the room, but it stayed on.

Just like the sun had.

A/N

PLEASE DON'T HATE ME!