Chapter 2: Beginnings

"Bye guys!" I waved to them as the car drove off.

It was after the movie, and I was the last person they had to drop off. I put my bag on the floor by the door after locking it. I went upstairs to my room and turned on the light.

My room looked different.

There was a few pair of socks on the floor, my bed was messed up, and my closet door was open. I could hear my mother's snore from the other room and decided that she had probably been in my room looking for something.

I went back down stairs for some water when I noticed the mug I had left on the table was gone. This puzzled me for a minute, but got my mind back after thinking that my mom probably put it away.

I had lost my thirst during this mind frame and went straight to the bathroom and got in the shower, deciding on getting dressed for bed back in my room.

When the warm water touched my skin, it was very relaxing and refreshing. I washed my body, and my hair, then got out the shower. I dried myself off then wrapped a towel around my body and went to my room.

The light was still on when I walked in, so I sat down in front of my closet mirror and started to comb through my hair. It was long, going down to a few inches below my shoulders. I had a heart shaped face and brown eyes that went perfect with my dark brown, almost black, hair, or so I've been told. I always thought my dark hair didn't really go with my face and I once wanted to dye it blond, but Chad and Taylor convinced me not to. They said that the way my hair was perfect the way it was and that I shouldn't change that. I was like 'whatever'. I still think I would be better off as a blond. I might just dye it soon.

As I thought, I let my eyes stare into the mirror and wander around my room, unconsciously. My eyes stopped on a rather dark corner of the room. What I saw there was unfamiliar. The dark shadow was a silhouette of a person. My eyes got bigger as I stared, mostly in horror, as the dark shadow came closer to me.

My mind raced. How did he get in here? Who is this? Why is he here? Why are he in my room? It was easy to see that he was a man. But the most important this was: Why was I still sitting here?

I got up, dropping the comb, and stared at the man. I couldn't see his profile or anything in the darkness that surrounded him. He took another menacing step toward me.

I clutched the towel around my body and darted toward the door as fast as I could.

He, apparently, was faster.

Just as I opened the door he grabbed me from behind, one arm around my waist, the other around my neck.

I was about to scream, but he leaned in and whispered in my ear. "You scream, you die." His voice was deep, husky, and deadly. I snapped my mouth shut and he took his arm from around my neck, shut and locked the door, then pulled me deeper into the room.

He removed his arms from me then pushed me harshly onto the bed. The light behind me was on his face and I could see. He was pale, with black hair and blue eyes. His gray-blue eyes were full of some emotion that I was too frightened to read at the moment. He did it so fast that I almost missed it. His hand grabbed my towel and pulled it from around me. He slung it on the floor and looked back at me.

I scooted to the top of my bed and tried to cover myself with my hands. Even though I was uncomfortable being naked in front of someone, the fear overpowered it as he took another step toward the bed. I tried to scoot up more, but my back was already up against the headboard. So I tried to pull my legs against my chest, but his huge hands clamped down around my ankles and pulled me back down to the end of the bed. His hands wrapped around my thighs as he climbed on the bed with me. I wrapped my arms around my chest trying to cover myself, but one of his big hands grabbed both of my wrists and held them above my head. He was kneeling between my legs, now, his arm extending over my head, his body right above mine. I tried to squirm out of his grip, but to no avail.

He shook his head. "First, the precautions." He stated as he reached down on the side of the bed and pulled up some rope. He tied my hands together and strapped them to the headboard. Next he grabbed something else and held it up.

A roll of socks.

"This is just in case you decide you want to scream in the middle of our, mostly my, fun." He stuffed the socks in my mouth. I watched as he got up from the bed and started to undress himself. I turned my head to the other side, not wanting to see anything. I felt the bed tilt as he rejoined me on the bed. He grabbed my face and made me look at him. I looked only at his face, not wanting to see any of his body. As I watched his face, realization came to his eyes. "Your first time?" I nodded. "Oh well, lucky me." He said as he removed his hand from my face and replaced it on my thigh. I tried to close my legs, but his hands acted as restraints and kept them wide open. Wide enough for him to pull my legs up around his waist and pull me closer to him. I struggled against the rope one more time, before realizing that this was going to happen. I felt the tears collect in my eyes as I rolled my head around to him. This had to be the worst possible way for me to lose my virginity. To some man I didn't know. But I couldn't help but to feel the heat that was coursing through my veins and everywhere else his hands were. It was weird, feeling this in the middle of a situation like mine. I looked at his face and noticed that he wasn't looking at my face, but at my body. His eyes were locked on my breasts. Some of the tears flooded over as he wrapped my legs tighter around his waist, then placed his hands on both sides of my waist. His hands were hard on my waist and it hurt. He moved slowly at first, pulling me closer, then suddenly he slammed into me, hard, and kept that pace. Fast and hard.

I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head as the pain flew through my body. The pain that surged through my body was so enormous that I had to bite down on the sock in order not to scream. It shook my body. But after the pain simmered down, an odd sense of pleasure washed over me, and no matter how much I wanted my body not to react, but my it did anyways. My bed rocked and squeaked as his hands gripped my waist tighter and as he continued his movement, a lot faster; my back arched.

Later on, he had left immediately afterward, but not without telling me not to tell anyone, and leaving me with his 'mark'.

I was sitting on my bed in my pajamas staring at my arm. The sleeve was pulled up so that it wouldn't stain. On my arm, it was all bloody. The fresh blood flowed down my arm from the cuts on the upper part of my forearm. There was too much blood to see what he had carved into my arm. It had hurt like hell when he did it--I would have screamed but the sock was still in my mouth at that moment--and all he said after it was,

"Just something to remember me by."

Like I want to remember. Why would I? He had raped me and had taken my virginity and hurt me.

I decided to finally wash my arm off and take a shower. I felt dirty anyways.

I got up and got into the shower.

As the warm water hit me, it felt amazing. I held my bleeding arm under the hot water and winced a little. The water swirled with blood, making the water turn a dark red color. I watched as the red bloody water got clearer and see through. My arm hadn't been the only thing that had bled. I looked down and saw the small stream of blood that was hardened on my leg. I had started to bleed while he was moving in and out of me (another thing that happens the first time you have sex), as if the pain wasn't enough, but most of it was being washed away by the water. Anyways, I looked at my arm and all the blood was gone from my arm. I could see what he had imprinted me with.

M

It was a single letter, but it made me confused. What was that suppose to stand for? His initial?

I shook my head and washed the rest of my body. I got out the shower and put back on my pajamas. Back in my room, I sat on my bed with my legs drawn to my chest. I looked around my room. Everything was back to normal. There was no evidence of last night except the cut on my arm, the aching of my muscles, the empty feeling in my stomach, the exposed feeling, and the red hand prints on my waist.

I pulled up my shirt and traced the dark red hand prints on my waist. When I touched them they stung. His grip was very hard and I'm pretty sure that there's marks on my thighs and ankles. I looked down at my ankles. Yep, I was right. There was dark red circles around them, making it look striped. I looked around my room again.

I've read stories, just for fun and knowledge and my life class, about people who had been raped, and this wasn't how any of them felt afterward. I felt calm, peaceful, empty, scared and a little exposed while they felt hurt, outraged, angry, violent, and spiteful. Also, when it was happening all they felt was pain, while at first I felt pain then an odd sense of pleasure.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. All I knew was that I wanted him never to come back. It hadn't been my first time with sexual contact, but it was my first time having sex and he didn't do it slow or nice. No kisses or touches. At least if he knew he was taking something so precious away from me, he could've made it easier for me. He would've made it less painful for me. But why would he? He doesn't know me. He probably just picked a house and a girl, not caring what the hell he was doing. All he did was pick an easy target.

Without a command to do so, my arm threw the lamp against the opposite wall beside my computer. It hit the wall with a loud crack and shattered to the ground. There was the anger. Usually that would have woke my mom up, but she was already gone to work.

I climbed under my covers. There was only one way for me to really calm down.

Sleep.

Hopefully I could sleep away today.