"No," I cried out as I tried to push him away from me. He only leaned in further. "Why are you doing this?"
I was sobbing so hard that I barely heard his response. "Because I ought to get what I deserve. Did you really think I was in love with you?" he chuckled. "Silly Leafy. You should know that when a guy wants to be your boyfriend, he really just wants to fuck you. I didn't put up with your mood swings for two months just to get nothing out of it. So if you want to breakup, I'm getting what I want first."
"Stop, Jared. Please. You don't want to do this." He wasn't listening to me; he was too busy trying to rip my shirt off. I fought back with every ounce of strength I had, but it was seeping out of me quickly. All of a sudden my head began to pound furiously, and my vision blackened from the onslaught. "D-did you… dru-drug me?" I couldn't speak clearly anymore, and my voice didn't even sound like my own.
His hands roamed down to my jean shorts, unbuttoning them. He had successfully gotten my shirt off, but luckily he hadn't taken off my bra yet.
"Of course I did, sweetie. I'm not stupid enough to leave you coherent."
My gasp sounded stifled, and I realized it was because his lips were crushed against mine. Once he pulled away to tear my shorts off, I whispered, "You've done… done th-this befo-re… haven't you?"
He shushed me. "That's for me to know, and for you to never find out."
"So basically, yes?" I snapped, but instantly regretted it when he slapped me hard on the cheek.
"Shut up," he growled, and forcefully picked me up, carrying me to his bed.
I started sobbing harder. "No!" I choked out. "I won't let you do this to me!"
He threw me on his bed, straddling me. I stayed still, waiting for some kind of opportunity to run.
It didn't come for several minutes. It was when he started unbuckling his belt, because he had to stand. I was only in my panties now.
While he was distracted, I slowly inched my way closer to the bedside table. Right when he was pulling his pants down, I yanked the lamp up and smashed it on his head, knocking him out cold.
I was so terrified I could barely breathe. I scrambled up quickly and grabbed my clothes; I didn't have time to put them on now. Before I left, I felt like I had to at least make sure he was still alive. So I quickly pressed two of my fingers on his neck, and when I felt a pulse I sighed in relief and then ran out of there as fast as I could.
After finding a nice tree to hide behind and put my clothes back on, I dried my tears and tried to calm myself down so that my mother wouldn't notice anything was wrong.
I didn't sleep for weeks. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his beautiful face. But then it morphed, his kind eyes becoming evil and his sweet smile twisting into the most conniving smirk I had ever seen.
I wasn't the same person after that. He killed my love for Valentine's Day, the day that used to be the happiest one of the year for me, even more so than Christmas. But now it's destroyed.
He destroyed me.