I spent the remainder of the afternoon alternating between icy showers and bashing my head against the wall-literally; there were dents in the wall to prove it. Mom came home later in the evening and suggested some push-ups or other aerobic exercises to take my mind off of being heat. That wasn't me, though. Perhaps she could sit there and do fifty sit-ups without breaking into a sweat, but I definitely couldn't. So, I placed both hands against the wall and began banging my head again, figuring that if I ended up with a migraine, the pain would be too intense to think, and knocking myself unconscious would be even better.

Yet, by the time eleven o'clock rolled around, I had neither headache nor coma, and my patience was dwindling. I couldn't stay inside for four more days, pretending like everything was right when it really wasn't. So, I grabbed my jacket off the arm of couch and quickly sneaked outside. Mom, if she heard me from her room, didn't question my motives. After all, she knew the feeling of being trapped just like I had done to myself all day. She told me that she had blown a couple doors off their hinges just to leave the isolation she had put herself through, which made the dents in the wall seem rather frivolous.

The night air was cool, yet dense with the setting of fog from the nearby body of water. Lights still glittered in the far-off distance, indicating that the city was ready to be reawakened for the night life that prowled the streets then. Warm exhaust spewed out of my motorcycle as I joined the hungry traffic on the full streets. I didn't know where I was going, but I prayed that riding alone would give me the freedom I craved nonetheless.

Devilish intuition found me back at the dance club where James and I had first met. I remained on my bike, one foot on the curb for balance, debating whether or not I should enter. He had been there. He could be in there. Shaking my head, I removed my helmet, as I told myself that I was getting as bad as Dad when it came to dealing with memories. Besides, dancing gave me more freedom than anything else ever could.

Inside the building, sweaty bodies were packed together, whirling with the music. An animalistic growl grew inside of me as I watched the glistening males, but I forced myself to move onward. After all, they had girls with them and wouldn't be interested in me. I, though, was interested in them, and watched with intense fascination as I sipped at the cheap beer I had ordered. God, they were so gorgeous. I just wanted to throw them down on the bed and it would all be over. No, I reminded myself, keep yourself intact. So, I grabbed the seat of the barstool, trying to ignore the frantic shaking of my leg.

As I was reaching for my drink, I heard someone coming up behind me. "Alanza! Hey, what are you doing here?" Quickly whipping around, I came face to face with Brandon. I jerked back in surprise and managed to catch my drink just before it spilled onto the countertop. Immediately, I was bombarded with various flashbacks of his delicious body in the shower from that morning. For the time being, he was wearing loose jeans that gathered around the tops of his thickly soled shoes, a tight black T-shirt along with a black leather jacket. His hair, following the styles of the time, was messed up, not flattened by the shower as it was earlier that day. In his left ear, he had two silver hoops, while a single one in his right ear. Wearing a thick silver necklace along with all that leather, he reminded me of a pimp. One sexy pimp at that.

"I-I," I sputtered, unsure of what to tell him.

"I haven't seen you around here before, so I wondering what you were doing here," Brandon commented, swinging a large leg over the opposite barstool. I glanced away as his pants stretched tight against his thighs and groin.

"I've been here before," I replied, bringing my glass to my lips. The drink shuddered throughout the entire short trip from counter to mouth and back; I couldn't control the urges anymore and the smell of Brandon's cologne was intoxicating.

"Really?" he asked, resting an elbow on the bar, putting him in an extremely cruel parody of when James and I came to the club for our second time. Fervently, I pushed the memories of James the jerk out of my mind and concentrated on Brandon's plump lips.

"Yeah…it's just…I've been busy, y'know."

He nodded, not fully believing me, but accepting it as enough of the truth. "Right…Look about that thing in the shower this morning-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Good," he smiled, obviously relieved that I wasn't asking for a commitment on his part. Pausing, he glanced out at the noisy crowd and left us silent for a minute. This gave me a chance to admire the muscles in his back, which led me to reconsider the move I had made in the shower. "Look, Alanza, I still want to hang out and all-"

He hadn't even finished his sentence when I launched myself at him. Smothering his lips, I ate away hungrily at him, feeling the tension that I had been carrying around all day unload itself.

I would've assumed he would have been at least slightly fazed by being attacked by a girl that he only worked with, but of course he wasn't. As I kissed his neck, he brought his mouth to my ear and whispered, "My place…now."

I don't recall how we ended up at his apartment, but somehow we did and my bike was in the parking lot below. He protested to nothing except that I give him time to enter his room; I gave him just enough to open the door before I was on top of him, shoving the door closed with one kick.

His floor was wooden and cold, yet I was oblivious to it all. I ripped at his clothing, pleading and begging with it to come off, while he did the same with mine. His hands over my breasts were like animal paws, violent and hungry. Despite the fact we were only a couple feet away from the door, neither of us noticed nor cared. After all, I was blind by being in heat and he, well, he was blind just by being a male.

He pressed his body against mine as I ground my hips against him, pleading to be taken. Somehow, I ended up in just my panties, while he was in jeans still. I could feel him growing hard against my crotch; his erection would soon split the zipper seam if he didn't get those goddamn jeans off soon. So, fumbling with his pants, I tore them off him so that we were both nearly naked, rocking with each other, groaning and whimpering like little children.

"Brandon…" I moaned as he gyrated next to me, touching my innermost wetness with one finger.

Had I been in a fairly sane frame of mind, I would have thrown him clear across the tiny apartment. If I ended up pregnant or with some kind of disease, I would have no one to blame but myself. Then, I, too, would have to hang onto a dead child just like Case had. Mom would probably forgive me, having gone through similar situations, but Dad would disown me, leaving forever. Not like I was planning on a family reunion with him anytime soon, though.

Still, upon seeing Brandon all hard and ready, I figured that it was time to start living by my own rules. Not my family's. Pregnancy was the least worry on my mind; getting Brandon inside me in the shortest amount of time was my biggest.

With one powerful stroke, he split me open, slamming into my burning body so that I screamed his name. Not long after, he was moaning for me so that it sounded as if he was on the verge of tears. He pumped, causing his thick necklace to hit against my chin, in a smooth manner. A delicate rhythm. Over and over he came, spilling into me, and I climaxed several times before he finally stopped, leaving us both breathless and in a blank stupor.

We fell asleep, still on the floor and naked, in each other's arms. I could have stayed with him and forgotten James forever, but I knew that I couldn't love someone just because their sex was better than I had ever imagined.

So, I gathered my clothes up in a blind panic, trying not to cry because my first time was with someone I didn't even give a damn about. Yet, the minute I reached my loyal motorcycle, I burst into horrendous sobs and didn't even have the courage to gun the engine like I usually did. It was time to go home and think about suicide. I couldn't live my life this way. I refused to.