Hidden Scars
folder
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,074
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,074
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Hidden Scars
She splashes cold water on her face as she stands in front of the sink. The coolness trickles down her face and drips onto her black shirt. She closes her eyes, her hands feeling the cool water dripping onto them from the curved silver faucet. Leaning against the black marble counter, she thinks. She doesn't want to be here.
Her eyes open. She turns the silver faucet handle to the right with her dripping hands. She dries them with an off-white paper towel, crumpling it as she thrusts it in the trash. The bin is filled to overflowing- she has to push the towel down so that it won't fall out and spill over the floor. She hesitates for another moment as she rests her hand on the metal plate on the door. She doesn't want to go out there. She doesn't want to do this.
Voices float toward her as she hesitates. She pushes her thoughts down and opens the door to make room for the laughing women who enter. They barely spare her a glance as they talk, purses swinging as they head for the row of sinks and mirrors. She walks out the door into the noise of the restaurant. He's waiting for her at the table, the signed receipt already tucked inside the closed black leather bill holder. He looks up at her. His eyes have a slightly questioning look in them- she was in there for longer than normal. It fades as she takes his arm and they leave. He's never been curious.
He opens the car door for her in the parking lot. Her white skirt hikes up as she steps in. His eyes focus on the pale stretch of leg that she exposes, trailing across her thighs. She fastens her seat belt, her eyes away from him as he glances at her chest. He goes to his side and starts the car. As they drive off, he rests his hand halfway up her thigh. She doesn't comment.
He uses the white key card to open the hotel room. She slowly walks in behind him, resting her purse on the chair near the closet. She tries not to look at the queen-sized bed. He walks up behind her and nuzzles her pale throat, his tie and jacket already discarded on the floor. He slowly pulls the ribbon out of her hair and loosens her shirt. He breathes into her neck. "Feel me. Feel this. Feel what I feel for you."
She arches her neck and closes her eyes, letting him touch her. She raises her arms as he tugs at her shirt, letting him undress her. She knew he'd be dominant. His kind always are. She lets him direct her. Cold fire explodes in her mind as she feels his desire against her. She forces her face to remain calm. She didn't realize he was so large. She thought he was smaller than he was. She isn't sure she can do this.
Their clothes are on the floor. They're on the bed. He's on top. She's moaning underneath him, moving in the way he wants her move, making the sounds he wants her to make. He wasn't as big as she thought. It makes it easier. She keeps her eyes shut. He doesn't comment. She tries not to remember as he moves on top of her. She tries not to show her thoughts.
It was three years ago. It had been a party. He'd had his eyes on her for a while. They had a class together. His silver eyes always followed her as she passed him toward her seat. Once he'd touched her as she walked past. She'd spun around, black hair flying, angry eyes flashing. His eyes had had something inside them that sparked her as it frightened her, a faint smile on his face as he examined her indignation. She hurried to her seat, feeling his gaze on her back. From that day, she always walked the long way around. A week later she looked at him. His eyes were angry at her. She never looked again.
She hadn't wanted to go to the party. Her friends told her to. She was pretty but not popular. She hadn't wanted to risk losing the few she had. She'd worn a white dress that showed off too much of her thigh. She hadn't wanted to wear it but her friends told her to. She didn't touch the drugs they offered her, but they hadn't pushed them. It wasn't as important. She had wanted to be careful. She asked for a Sprite instead of the punch. A guy from her Civics class handed one to her in a red and white plastic cup. She didn't think. She just drank it.
Things began to blur. She was in a bedroom and he was there. She was lying on the strange bed without her dress and he was there. His silver eyes were on her. She was trying to move and trying to get out of the bed and trying to wake up and trying to get away but he was there and he was looking at her and he was touching her and he was holding her and he was inside her and he was hurting her and he was there and she couldn't fight she couldn't scream she couldn't think she couldn't stop him and she it hurt so much it hurt and he wasn't stopping and he didn't care and he
He comes. He throws his head back as he does and makes the sound that she imitates. He thinks it's genuine. He collapses onto the white sheets besides her, his energy spent. Part of him rests on top of her. His hand lazily trickles through her black hair.
The only sound is the two of them panting. Times passes as they lie next to each other. He pulls her against his chest, cupping her cheek in his hand as he gazes at his girlfriend. "Was it good for you?"
She forces a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. It looks real to him. "Yeah. It was."
To help clarify this at the end:
The person who the main character is sleeping with at the end is NOT the guy with silver eyes. Why she is sleeping with men when she doesn\'t want to, or what happened after the party incident, is up to your own mind. I might make a story from this short, but I haven\'t decided. It\'s also posted on Fictionpress.net under September 23.
Her eyes open. She turns the silver faucet handle to the right with her dripping hands. She dries them with an off-white paper towel, crumpling it as she thrusts it in the trash. The bin is filled to overflowing- she has to push the towel down so that it won't fall out and spill over the floor. She hesitates for another moment as she rests her hand on the metal plate on the door. She doesn't want to go out there. She doesn't want to do this.
Voices float toward her as she hesitates. She pushes her thoughts down and opens the door to make room for the laughing women who enter. They barely spare her a glance as they talk, purses swinging as they head for the row of sinks and mirrors. She walks out the door into the noise of the restaurant. He's waiting for her at the table, the signed receipt already tucked inside the closed black leather bill holder. He looks up at her. His eyes have a slightly questioning look in them- she was in there for longer than normal. It fades as she takes his arm and they leave. He's never been curious.
He opens the car door for her in the parking lot. Her white skirt hikes up as she steps in. His eyes focus on the pale stretch of leg that she exposes, trailing across her thighs. She fastens her seat belt, her eyes away from him as he glances at her chest. He goes to his side and starts the car. As they drive off, he rests his hand halfway up her thigh. She doesn't comment.
He uses the white key card to open the hotel room. She slowly walks in behind him, resting her purse on the chair near the closet. She tries not to look at the queen-sized bed. He walks up behind her and nuzzles her pale throat, his tie and jacket already discarded on the floor. He slowly pulls the ribbon out of her hair and loosens her shirt. He breathes into her neck. "Feel me. Feel this. Feel what I feel for you."
She arches her neck and closes her eyes, letting him touch her. She raises her arms as he tugs at her shirt, letting him undress her. She knew he'd be dominant. His kind always are. She lets him direct her. Cold fire explodes in her mind as she feels his desire against her. She forces her face to remain calm. She didn't realize he was so large. She thought he was smaller than he was. She isn't sure she can do this.
Their clothes are on the floor. They're on the bed. He's on top. She's moaning underneath him, moving in the way he wants her move, making the sounds he wants her to make. He wasn't as big as she thought. It makes it easier. She keeps her eyes shut. He doesn't comment. She tries not to remember as he moves on top of her. She tries not to show her thoughts.
It was three years ago. It had been a party. He'd had his eyes on her for a while. They had a class together. His silver eyes always followed her as she passed him toward her seat. Once he'd touched her as she walked past. She'd spun around, black hair flying, angry eyes flashing. His eyes had had something inside them that sparked her as it frightened her, a faint smile on his face as he examined her indignation. She hurried to her seat, feeling his gaze on her back. From that day, she always walked the long way around. A week later she looked at him. His eyes were angry at her. She never looked again.
She hadn't wanted to go to the party. Her friends told her to. She was pretty but not popular. She hadn't wanted to risk losing the few she had. She'd worn a white dress that showed off too much of her thigh. She hadn't wanted to wear it but her friends told her to. She didn't touch the drugs they offered her, but they hadn't pushed them. It wasn't as important. She had wanted to be careful. She asked for a Sprite instead of the punch. A guy from her Civics class handed one to her in a red and white plastic cup. She didn't think. She just drank it.
Things began to blur. She was in a bedroom and he was there. She was lying on the strange bed without her dress and he was there. His silver eyes were on her. She was trying to move and trying to get out of the bed and trying to wake up and trying to get away but he was there and he was looking at her and he was touching her and he was holding her and he was inside her and he was hurting her and he was there and she couldn't fight she couldn't scream she couldn't think she couldn't stop him and she it hurt so much it hurt and he wasn't stopping and he didn't care and he
He comes. He throws his head back as he does and makes the sound that she imitates. He thinks it's genuine. He collapses onto the white sheets besides her, his energy spent. Part of him rests on top of her. His hand lazily trickles through her black hair.
The only sound is the two of them panting. Times passes as they lie next to each other. He pulls her against his chest, cupping her cheek in his hand as he gazes at his girlfriend. "Was it good for you?"
She forces a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. It looks real to him. "Yeah. It was."
To help clarify this at the end:
The person who the main character is sleeping with at the end is NOT the guy with silver eyes. Why she is sleeping with men when she doesn\'t want to, or what happened after the party incident, is up to your own mind. I might make a story from this short, but I haven\'t decided. It\'s also posted on Fictionpress.net under September 23.