DISCLAIMER Mature content within ------
Skylar's POV
A sense of dread enveloped me as I begged for it to stop. His harsh response, a command to silence my pleas, only fueled the rising fear within. The weight of his words echoed in the tense air as he pressed himself against me, insisting, "You know you want this."
"At school, you had all those boys looking at you lusting after what's mine. You want attention, and I'm giving you attention!" he shouted as he pulled down my shorts.
"Please don't do this," I begged, tears forming in my eyes. This only seemed to encourage him further.
His eyes had lost all trace of their original silver color and were now pitch black. He proceeded to rip my underwear off before prying my legs apart, exposing my womanhood, something I held dear.
"No! Please don't do this," I cried, begged—pleaded.
My pleas fell on deaf ears as he positioned his shaft at my entrance, and in one fluid motion, he thrust into me, robbing me of my virtue and my innocence.
"AHHH!"
The pain was so sharp that my mind and body screamed out in agony. He continued thrusting, each one harder than the last. I forgot how long he was at it, but it seemed he was finally finished, or so I thought.
Somewhere in between his groans of pleasure and my screams of agony, I passed out, unable to bear the pain and the scars on my mind.
—-----
When I woke up, he wasn't in the room. I tried to get up, but I was knocked right back down by the pain coming from my crotch. An involuntary scream escaped me before I could quickly cover my mouth.
What if he heard me? Is he still in the house? All those questions and more ran through my mind.
I lay in the bed, waiting for him to come into the room and shout at me for making noise or hit me and tell me to shut up, but he didn't. I soon realized that he wasn't in the house; I was alone.
He could come back at any time. The thought just popped up in my head, immediately bringing back my uneasiness, my fear.
I quickly got up, trying to ignore the pain. I got dressed and left.
When I reached home, I went straight to my room. I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling; tears streaming down my face. The pain was still very present. I was sure when I had I drifted off into a dreamless slumber.
~ Ping ~
I was awakened by a ping from my phone. I looked at the name, and it was 'him.'
'I'll be gone for at least a month. Don't do anything stupid or anything you know I wouldn't like. Don't interact with the opposite sex if it's not necessary. I won't be able to attend the graduation ceremony. The after-party is a no-go. If anyone asks you out you know what to say. I won't even say what I'll do to you if you choose to disobey me.'
'Bastard!' I thought to myself as I read his message. Another ping came in from him again.
I could never fathom how much someone could transform over time. Cain and I go way back, practically growing up together. My dad worked at the mayor's office for his father, forging a connection that tethered our families. After school, I'd meet my father in front of the office before reuniting with my mother, a teacher at the local high school. The town's peculiar concept of 'packs' separated the schools, each akin to its own neighborhood or family.
My mother worked in a school nestled in a different neighborhood, another pack's domain. It posed its challenges, but we made it work. It was the summer of my 9th birthday when I first encountered Cain. A Sunday morning errand to my dad's office led to a collision with him on the stairs, irritation etched on his face.
"I'm sorry," I quickly apologized.
"It's okay," he grunted.
"Good, no harm no foul," I shouted as I continued up the stairs to my father's office. He exuded an air of elegance and confidence, which was unusual for someone so young. I soon found out that he was just a big crybaby—a phony. After that initial interaction, we kept meeting. He would show up at the office more often when I was there, have his dad invite my entire family over, and even show up at my house. I would have thought he needed a friend, but he had plenty of friends already. I became his tutor freshman year—I took AP classes and was always ahead of my grade—and it was fine. He was sweet and romantic, but everything started to change after his 16th birthday. The attention-loving, doe-eyed boy who would surprise me with chocolate or hour-long phone calls was gone. His focus, once solely on me, no longer belonged to me at all. I had to beg for attention, almost like I had to schedule my time with him. He developed an aggression towards me that I didn't understand. I would have never imagined it would turn into this. I never thought he would do something like this.
My mind went numb, as I tried not to recall last night's events. My body began to shake violently as they seeped into my mind.I went into the bathroom and began to inspect myself, with trembling hands.
"I am fine, he has not done anything else to me," I tried reassuring myself, my voice sounding soulless, as if it was not even my own words or maybe I didn't believe what I was saying.
Tears filled my eyes as it all replayed in my head, before I knew it, I was sobbing aloud.
I stepped into the bathtub and stood under the shower, allowing the hot water to explore my body, and then I scrubbed myself hard. I scrubbed in hopes of getting rid of his scent, to forget his touch; I scrubbed because I was now so dirty that I might never get clean again.
When I had finished my bath, my whole body was red and probably bruised; at least now I'll look like I felt. Battered.
Looking at my reflection in the mirror, something caught my eye. A cut on my neck. The bastard cut me, he freaking cut me!
Glaring at the oddly shaped bruise, my mind was blank. It looked like a tattoo which hurt each time I touched it.
The rational side of me is saying it's not a tattoo, but the irrational was saying it looks like a tattoo, it feels like a tattoo, then it must be a tattoo.
I went to bed, ignoring my contradicting thoughts.
The next morning I woke up with a groan, rolling over in my bed to be yet again met by the pain in my crotch. The pain was slightly better but still throbbing.
I ignored it... or at least I tried to ignore the pain and got ready for school.
When I was ready, I remembered that I didn't have a ride to school nor did I schedule the bus to pick me up.
I mentally groaned; I'd have to walk to school. If it was another day, I'd be happy for the extra exercise, but not today.
I walked to school, occasionally stopping when the pain got too intense. I managed to arrive at school just before the bell rang. After getting the necessary stationeries from my locker, I went to my first class.
When I stepped into class, all eyes turned to me, making me dread being the center of attention. What will that bastard think?
"Miss. Cole, it's good to see you grace us with your presence," my math teacher, Mrs. Small, said with a grin.
"Sorry. It won't happen again." I said.
"It's okay, go sit and follow along."
I did just that.
To my surprise, the class passed quickly as did the school day. I mentally thanked God that today is Friday; no school tomorrow. It was just me, myself, and I.