Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns these characters. I don't.
There was a brief moment when you woke up in the morning and you didn't know where you were. But as you suddenly drifted back into reality, you were immediately comforted by your familiar surroundings that were usually characterless on average days like your side table lamp, or upturned carpet in the corners.
This was not one of those mornings.
Startled and bolted upright in a bed that was not mine.
A ceiling and hardwood that was not mine.
He appeared, crouching down on the floor and flinging articles of clothing onto the bed.
My bra and panties were tangled and distorted on my body under the sheets. I justified myself by looking presentable before getting out of the bed. His bed.
"You need to leave," he had said. I was not understanding.
"Why?" I asked and he did not look at me. "Why?" I had asked again.
I got out of bed. He shielded his eyes as if he were looking into a bright light. Forgive me, but I was no sun.
I wavered next to the dresser where my glasses lay; apparently thrown in the middle of the night.
"Get out," he said and I started to tear up.
Then I was suddenly being ambushed with more clothing, clothing I recognized like my sweater. I picked it up at my feet.
"Get out!" he yelled then. I was half way out the door with my tights in my hand when he gave me one last look.
He shut the door behind me before I was able to gasp for breath.
Something behind the door fell and crashed and I could hear curses being thrown around the room.
There was no one out in the hallways, so I walked modestly back to main grounds. I walked with pride, pass students who eyed with suspicions flitting past their waning eyes. I didn't pay attention as my feet stepped into the wet grass.
Seaweed Bob was not there as I hung onto the door knob for security and threw my stuff to the ground.
I immediately took a shower to wash off the sin.
Words were beaten into my brain. Sin. Lust. Sin. Lust. Joy. Sin. Pleasure. Lust. Sin. Love. Sin. Sin. Sin...
But I felt dirty and the signs around school about public PDA felt sticky on my skin.
Chestnut Pony Tail's eyes would leak thick and hateful tears if she knew.
Silvery Long's cafeteria kiss would be nothing compared.
I had made my bed, so must I lie?
...
...
...
6 months later and I am still that girl.
Still that girl that got screwed behind doors; screwed emotionally, physically, mentally.
And still he passes me and pretends to not know me.
I don't know me.
I thought I did, but not anymore.