My Blood: A Rape Story
My Blood
You push into me. It's too hard, too fast. It's never like this. I smell alcohol, cigarette smoke, marijuana. But it doesn't make sense. It's never been like this before.
I cry out as you bite my shoulder, blood trailing down my skin. You curse at me, kissing my mouth. I taste my blood on you. It's sick.
There's nothing in your eyes. They're devoid of emotion, dark and empty. I don't understand. You're calling my beautiful through lips red from my blood.
You're fucking me so hard I'm tearing, ripping. The lubricant you're fucking me with is my own blood. I feel like I'm being ripped in two. Maybe all this loss of blood with kill me.
Maybe . . .
---
I scream, sitting up in bed, sweat dripping onto the hotel sheets. Just a dream, just a dream.
I hear the banging on my door. "Just a minute." My eyes scan the dark corners of the room as I get up to open the door. Are you hiding?
I turn the handle and pull it open. Mike comes in flicking on the light, blinding me. I wince.
"Fuck, Billie Joe. You're bleeding."
He pulls me into the bathroom and presses a cold washcloth against my bleeding lip. I'm shaking. You're here, aren't you? It wasn't really a dream.
Mike pulls the washcloth away and looks at me. I feel like his eyes can see right through me. He'd hate me if he knew. Slowly, he brings a hand up to my cheek. I really try not to flinch, I really do.
His blue eyes look hurt. "Billie, what is it? You haven't been the same since that show in Houston." His voice is soft, too soft. He should be screaming at me.
"S-Sorry." The apology stumbles out of me. I want to apologize for that, too. I can't do anything right.
I turn away from him to look in the mirror. I look like shit. Huge circles under bloodshot eyes. My throat hurts from screaming. My arm hurts from shooting up last night.
I see Mike behind me in the mirror. I close my eyes as I feel his arms around me, his lips against my cheek. Can he smell you on me?
"Billie, I love you. You know that, right?"
I nod, eyes still closed. Maybe I can forget for a minute. Forget how I fucked everything up.
"Nothing will ever change that."
My eyes fly open.
"You're mine now whore. Nothing will ever change that."
"No!" I pull away from you so hard, I hit the counter. My hip connects with the granite surface and tears spring to my eyes as I swear.
You stare at me. "Billie . . . what is it?"
I can't do it anymore. I can't. You're hiding in my room and he's staring at me. Everything's so fucked up. I can't lie anymore. I can't pretend. I think I see something move outside the bathroom, but I don't know. I don't fucking know anymore.
"I-I cheated on you." It's a whisper.
"What?" Not a whisper.
"I didn't mean to!" I'm bawling now. I feel my knees give out as I hit the floor. "I didn't! He was there and he pushed me into a room and I said to stop. I didn't want to cheat on you. I didn't mean for it to happen. And then it was dark and he was hurting me and I wanted you, but I couldn't move. He was hurting me. It was so dark."
I feel his hands around me. Or are they your hands? Everything's blurry through the tears in my eyes.
"Dark." I whisper again. "It was so dark. I was bleeding. Blood, blood everywhere. It's still everywhere. I can't get it off of me. It's disgusting. He kisses me and there's blood. He touches me and there's blood. I can't stop bleeding. I'm going to die if he keeps doing it. The blood's going to be gone and then I'll die. I'll die in the dark bleeding. Die, die, die--"
"Billie Joe, stop."
Mike's arms. Not yours. Mike's. Mike's arms around me. Mike's voice in my ear. Mike's.
"You're not going to die. It's not dark in here, see? I turned the light on. You're not bleeding anymore. We used a washcloth and stopped it, remember?"
I'm not going to die?
I feel Mike's lips on my cheek. I hear your voice.
"Remember. Remember. You can't ever forget. Never. I'm in you. I'm in your blood."
"No!" I'm crying again.
I think Mike heard you, too. He pulls me closer, rocks me like a baby. "There's no one here but us, Billie Joe. It's just us, baby. You and me. Just you and me."
I nod against him. He doesn't know.
He pulls me up, runs a hand across my cheek, kisses my forehead. His arms are still around me when he leads me into his room.
Did you stay in mine or did you follow us all invisible?
He sits me down on the bed, kisses my cheek again. "Billie Joe, I'm going to call the police, okay?"
I shake my head, trying to say no, but the word gets stuck in Mike's mouth when he kisses me.
"The police are going to help, Billie Joe."
"No. He's in my room. He'll hear the cars. He'll leave. He'll kill me. He'll do it again. No. Don't. Mike, don't call. Please."
"No one's in your room, Billie Joe."
"He is."
"No, he's not."
I'm crying again and he sets the phone down, putting his arms around me. "We'll call tomorrow. You'll stay in here. I'll stay awake and make sure he doesn't come in, okay? We'll wait until it's light and then we'll call, okay?"
I make him promise to lock the door and not let anyone in and not call while I'm asleep. He promises.
I want him to make love to me, take away the memory of you on me, but he won't. Instead, he turns on the shower and cleans me, washes my hair. My lip hurts a little when the water hits it.
He dresses me in his clothes, tee shirt and boxers. They were clean, but they're not anymore. They're cleaner than anything I wear because I've never worn them before.
He brushes my hair, brushes my teeth. He washes my face with a washcloth and soap. Behind my ears and under my chin, like I was a baby.
He helps me into bed and lets me lean against his chest until I fall asleep. He's playing with my hair last thing I remember.
---
You're angry. I see your eyes all dark and you bite me again.
Only this time you use the blood to write on me. I can't see the words in the dark. I can't read upside down.
You're angry because I'm not hard. You scream that I'm always hard, that I'm a whore, that I really want it and I'm being difficult.
You push into me harder. I didn't know you could. I didn't know it could hurt worse than it already did. I didn't know there could be more blood. I didn't know it would get stuck between your teeth and turn a little brown and make me vomit into your mouth when you kiss me again.
So much blood.
---
I'm screaming again when I sit up and Mike's there. It's daytime now. He gets me a glass of water and I know you're not there unless you're hiding in the closet. You only come out at night.
"Bad dream?"
I shake my head.
"Bad memory?"
I look at him and nod slowly over the glass of water. He's not mad. He's not mad that I cheated on him or that I fucked everything up. I don't understand. You said he'd be mad. You said unless I kept it a secret he was going to leave me and then I'd never be able to escape you for even a minute.
Did you lie to me?
"I'm sorry."
He looks upset. "You don't have anything to be sorry about, Billie Joe."
"I cheated on you."
He takes the empty glass from me and pulls me to him again. I love how he smells. No blood. No blood on him. He's clean. He holds me and I smell him and he smells clean, like the ocean.
"You didn't cheat on me. You were raped, Billie Joe. You didn't want to. It's not cheating."
Raped? You said guys didn't get raped. They get fucked. Guys only ever get fucked. Did you lie to me? I don't understand. You said he would hate me.
You lied to me!
"No!" I'm screaming again. I push away from Mike and run to the closet, sliding the stupid flimsy door open, but you're not there.
It's only got clothes and a suitcase in it.
Mike watches me. I run to the bathroom and it's empty. You're not in the dresser or the wardrobe or under any of the beds. He walks with me to my room to check everywhere in there.
"WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?"
I fall to the floor. I'm crying, but there aren't any tears. It was all a lie. It was all fake. You weren't ever anywhere except in my head . . .
In my blood.
"My blood. My blood. He's in my blood. You're in my blood." If I get rid of all my blood, then I'll get rid of you. I'll get rid of you.
But Mike catches me before I take two steps to the bathroom.
He grabs me around the waist and holds me, breathing in my ear. "He's not in your blood, Billie Joe. He's not in your blood. Your blood is just blood, Billie Joe."
He's lying. Everyone's lying.
"He's in your head, Billie Joe. He's in your mind."
"No. I don't understand."
"He's in your mind, Billie Joe, but if you let us help you, we can get him out."
"I'm scared."
"I know. I know, baby, but I love you and I promise that I'll get him out of your head and he'll never hurt you again. I promise, baby."
I nod as he kisses me, nod as Mike leads me back to his room, nod as Mike calls the police, nod as they ask me questions.
But he's not in my head. He's in my blood.
And my blood goes down the drain.
I cry out as you bite my shoulder, blood trailing down my skin. You curse at me, kissing my mouth. I taste my blood on you. It's sick.
There's nothing in your eyes. They're devoid of emotion, dark and empty. I don't understand. You're calling my beautiful through lips red from my blood.
You're fucking me so hard I'm tearing, ripping. The lubricant you're fucking me with is my own blood. I feel like I'm being ripped in two. Maybe all this loss of blood with kill me.
Maybe . . .
---
I scream, sitting up in bed, sweat dripping onto the hotel sheets. Just a dream, just a dream.
I hear the banging on my door. "Just a minute." My eyes scan the dark corners of the room as I get up to open the door. Are you hiding?
I turn the handle and pull it open. Mike comes in flicking on the light, blinding me. I wince.
"Fuck, Billie Joe. You're bleeding."
He pulls me into the bathroom and presses a cold washcloth against my bleeding lip. I'm shaking. You're here, aren't you? It wasn't really a dream.
Mike pulls the washcloth away and looks at me. I feel like his eyes can see right through me. He'd hate me if he knew. Slowly, he brings a hand up to my cheek. I really try not to flinch, I really do.
His blue eyes look hurt. "Billie, what is it? You haven't been the same since that show in Houston." His voice is soft, too soft. He should be screaming at me.
"S-Sorry." The apology stumbles out of me. I want to apologize for that, too. I can't do anything right.
I turn away from him to look in the mirror. I look like shit. Huge circles under bloodshot eyes. My throat hurts from screaming. My arm hurts from shooting up last night.
I see Mike behind me in the mirror. I close my eyes as I feel his arms around me, his lips against my cheek. Can he smell you on me?
"Billie, I love you. You know that, right?"
I nod, eyes still closed. Maybe I can forget for a minute. Forget how I fucked everything up.
"Nothing will ever change that."
My eyes fly open.
"You're mine now whore. Nothing will ever change that."
"No!" I pull away from you so hard, I hit the counter. My hip connects with the granite surface and tears spring to my eyes as I swear.
You stare at me. "Billie . . . what is it?"
I can't do it anymore. I can't. You're hiding in my room and he's staring at me. Everything's so fucked up. I can't lie anymore. I can't pretend. I think I see something move outside the bathroom, but I don't know. I don't fucking know anymore.
"I-I cheated on you." It's a whisper.
"What?" Not a whisper.
"I didn't mean to!" I'm bawling now. I feel my knees give out as I hit the floor. "I didn't! He was there and he pushed me into a room and I said to stop. I didn't want to cheat on you. I didn't mean for it to happen. And then it was dark and he was hurting me and I wanted you, but I couldn't move. He was hurting me. It was so dark."
I feel his hands around me. Or are they your hands? Everything's blurry through the tears in my eyes.
"Dark." I whisper again. "It was so dark. I was bleeding. Blood, blood everywhere. It's still everywhere. I can't get it off of me. It's disgusting. He kisses me and there's blood. He touches me and there's blood. I can't stop bleeding. I'm going to die if he keeps doing it. The blood's going to be gone and then I'll die. I'll die in the dark bleeding. Die, die, die--"
"Billie Joe, stop."
Mike's arms. Not yours. Mike's. Mike's arms around me. Mike's voice in my ear. Mike's.
"You're not going to die. It's not dark in here, see? I turned the light on. You're not bleeding anymore. We used a washcloth and stopped it, remember?"
I'm not going to die?
I feel Mike's lips on my cheek. I hear your voice.
"Remember. Remember. You can't ever forget. Never. I'm in you. I'm in your blood."
"No!" I'm crying again.
I think Mike heard you, too. He pulls me closer, rocks me like a baby. "There's no one here but us, Billie Joe. It's just us, baby. You and me. Just you and me."
I nod against him. He doesn't know.
He pulls me up, runs a hand across my cheek, kisses my forehead. His arms are still around me when he leads me into his room.
Did you stay in mine or did you follow us all invisible?
He sits me down on the bed, kisses my cheek again. "Billie Joe, I'm going to call the police, okay?"
I shake my head, trying to say no, but the word gets stuck in Mike's mouth when he kisses me.
"The police are going to help, Billie Joe."
"No. He's in my room. He'll hear the cars. He'll leave. He'll kill me. He'll do it again. No. Don't. Mike, don't call. Please."
"No one's in your room, Billie Joe."
"He is."
"No, he's not."
I'm crying again and he sets the phone down, putting his arms around me. "We'll call tomorrow. You'll stay in here. I'll stay awake and make sure he doesn't come in, okay? We'll wait until it's light and then we'll call, okay?"
I make him promise to lock the door and not let anyone in and not call while I'm asleep. He promises.
I want him to make love to me, take away the memory of you on me, but he won't. Instead, he turns on the shower and cleans me, washes my hair. My lip hurts a little when the water hits it.
He dresses me in his clothes, tee shirt and boxers. They were clean, but they're not anymore. They're cleaner than anything I wear because I've never worn them before.
He brushes my hair, brushes my teeth. He washes my face with a washcloth and soap. Behind my ears and under my chin, like I was a baby.
He helps me into bed and lets me lean against his chest until I fall asleep. He's playing with my hair last thing I remember.
---
You're angry. I see your eyes all dark and you bite me again.
Only this time you use the blood to write on me. I can't see the words in the dark. I can't read upside down.
You're angry because I'm not hard. You scream that I'm always hard, that I'm a whore, that I really want it and I'm being difficult.
You push into me harder. I didn't know you could. I didn't know it could hurt worse than it already did. I didn't know there could be more blood. I didn't know it would get stuck between your teeth and turn a little brown and make me vomit into your mouth when you kiss me again.
So much blood.
---
I'm screaming again when I sit up and Mike's there. It's daytime now. He gets me a glass of water and I know you're not there unless you're hiding in the closet. You only come out at night.
"Bad dream?"
I shake my head.
"Bad memory?"
I look at him and nod slowly over the glass of water. He's not mad. He's not mad that I cheated on him or that I fucked everything up. I don't understand. You said he'd be mad. You said unless I kept it a secret he was going to leave me and then I'd never be able to escape you for even a minute.
Did you lie to me?
"I'm sorry."
He looks upset. "You don't have anything to be sorry about, Billie Joe."
"I cheated on you."
He takes the empty glass from me and pulls me to him again. I love how he smells. No blood. No blood on him. He's clean. He holds me and I smell him and he smells clean, like the ocean.
"You didn't cheat on me. You were raped, Billie Joe. You didn't want to. It's not cheating."
Raped? You said guys didn't get raped. They get fucked. Guys only ever get fucked. Did you lie to me? I don't understand. You said he would hate me.
You lied to me!
"No!" I'm screaming again. I push away from Mike and run to the closet, sliding the stupid flimsy door open, but you're not there.
It's only got clothes and a suitcase in it.
Mike watches me. I run to the bathroom and it's empty. You're not in the dresser or the wardrobe or under any of the beds. He walks with me to my room to check everywhere in there.
"WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?"
I fall to the floor. I'm crying, but there aren't any tears. It was all a lie. It was all fake. You weren't ever anywhere except in my head . . .
In my blood.
"My blood. My blood. He's in my blood. You're in my blood." If I get rid of all my blood, then I'll get rid of you. I'll get rid of you.
But Mike catches me before I take two steps to the bathroom.
He grabs me around the waist and holds me, breathing in my ear. "He's not in your blood, Billie Joe. He's not in your blood. Your blood is just blood, Billie Joe."
He's lying. Everyone's lying.
"He's in your head, Billie Joe. He's in your mind."
"No. I don't understand."
"He's in your mind, Billie Joe, but if you let us help you, we can get him out."
"I'm scared."
"I know. I know, baby, but I love you and I promise that I'll get him out of your head and he'll never hurt you again. I promise, baby."
I nod as he kisses me, nod as Mike leads me back to his room, nod as Mike calls the police, nod as they ask me questions.
But he's not in my head. He's in my blood.
And my blood goes down the drain.