Status: Active
Breathe Easy the Doctors Are About to Arrive
Intro
"Ahhh yeah....fuck," the man on top of me groaned as I layed underneath him silently. Part of me wanted to tell him to stop, that I didn't want this. I didn't want to risk anything again. But the rest of me needed this in a way, in the most sickest way ever. At this moment I felt pretty. I felt pretty and loved and needed, things I wasn't very used to feeling. Although deep inside me I knew this horny man didn't love me, or need me, and probably didn't even think I was pretty. I was just a piece of ass and a good fuck to him. As long as it created the illusion though, I was fine enough. I didn't even know this man very well, I had met him at a bar a few hours ago and he stared at me like I was his food. I didn't care though, at least I was wanted, right?.....right?
He pulled him self out of me and his sweaty body collapsed on top of mine. I felt like crying. I felt so dirty, so vain, so...disgusting. All of those feelings would temporarily fade away when he started saying those sugar coated words to me though. He would soon engage in telling me how "hot" I was and how "good" that was, or maybe even how "tight" I was. I waited for it, but it didn't come. The guy got off of me, started getting dressed, and threw my shirt at me. I couldn't move, I was in too much pain.
"Put your shirt on," he grimaced. "No one wants to see that," he joked, laughing carelessly. The pain went off in my mind like a switch. I just blankly grabbed my shirt, got up, put my pants and shoes on and walked out his door. It wasn't until I was out in the cold rain that I began to cry and break down. I didn't know how long I would do this to myself, but I wasn't thinking about that right then. I was thinking about how ugly I was to him, how I would never be good enough for anybody, how the only thing I was ever going to be good for was my body and using it to please people, and how that incident just proved my theories right. I felt the throbbing of my stomach increase and vile arose in the back of my throat. I stumbled into a wooded area nearby and let all of it come out of me. My stomach heaved painfully and I fell to my knees. My shirt was still off, leaving my body icey cold in only my skimpy bra with the rain beating down onto my sensative skin. My hair was matted to my face, and now I had vomit running down my face as well. I whiped it off and temporarily pulled myself together enough so I could call someone, anyone, to come pick me up. I walked under the roof of the apartments so I wouldn't get my phone wet, and put my now wet, cold shirt on. I gasped from the after affects of the vomiting and crying and grimaced at my reflection in the screen of the phone after I took it out of the pocket of my wet jeans. I went through my contacts, and they randomly landed in the middle of my list that I kept. The name "Jessi" popped up, and it struck a good chord in me. I could always rely on her. She would scold me and make me eat and make me stay with her for a couple of days at least, no matter how much I fought back to not let me take up her living space. I pressed her name and it began ringing. I hoped I had enough energy to talk.
"Hello," her loud voice rang through the reciever.
"Je-Jessi," I stuttered, although I didn't mean to. I sniffled from difficulty breathing.
"Yes?" she asked, more hesitant and worried now.
"It's Randi...." I said softly and robotically, glancing around at the dark sky that was painted black by the wee hours of the morning.
"Are you okay? Where are you? What are you doing? What the fuck's going on?" she stammered on and on. I looked to my side and I wanted to bang my head against the metal pole that stood next to me. Why did all of my friends automatically think something was wrong when I called them? Because you're a fuck up and with you, everything goes wrong I spat at myself inside my mind. I pursed my lips patheticly and started talking again.
"Will you come pick me up...." I trailed off silently.
"Where?" she asked intently. I told her the street names and she told me that she would be there in about 3 or 4 minutes. She was evidently living with her boyfriend and he lived just down the road on another street. I was going to fight with her about the fact that it wasn't even her house and I couldn't possible stay there, but right now all I wanted was warmth and comfort and a friend.
He pulled him self out of me and his sweaty body collapsed on top of mine. I felt like crying. I felt so dirty, so vain, so...disgusting. All of those feelings would temporarily fade away when he started saying those sugar coated words to me though. He would soon engage in telling me how "hot" I was and how "good" that was, or maybe even how "tight" I was. I waited for it, but it didn't come. The guy got off of me, started getting dressed, and threw my shirt at me. I couldn't move, I was in too much pain.
"Put your shirt on," he grimaced. "No one wants to see that," he joked, laughing carelessly. The pain went off in my mind like a switch. I just blankly grabbed my shirt, got up, put my pants and shoes on and walked out his door. It wasn't until I was out in the cold rain that I began to cry and break down. I didn't know how long I would do this to myself, but I wasn't thinking about that right then. I was thinking about how ugly I was to him, how I would never be good enough for anybody, how the only thing I was ever going to be good for was my body and using it to please people, and how that incident just proved my theories right. I felt the throbbing of my stomach increase and vile arose in the back of my throat. I stumbled into a wooded area nearby and let all of it come out of me. My stomach heaved painfully and I fell to my knees. My shirt was still off, leaving my body icey cold in only my skimpy bra with the rain beating down onto my sensative skin. My hair was matted to my face, and now I had vomit running down my face as well. I whiped it off and temporarily pulled myself together enough so I could call someone, anyone, to come pick me up. I walked under the roof of the apartments so I wouldn't get my phone wet, and put my now wet, cold shirt on. I gasped from the after affects of the vomiting and crying and grimaced at my reflection in the screen of the phone after I took it out of the pocket of my wet jeans. I went through my contacts, and they randomly landed in the middle of my list that I kept. The name "Jessi" popped up, and it struck a good chord in me. I could always rely on her. She would scold me and make me eat and make me stay with her for a couple of days at least, no matter how much I fought back to not let me take up her living space. I pressed her name and it began ringing. I hoped I had enough energy to talk.
"Hello," her loud voice rang through the reciever.
"Je-Jessi," I stuttered, although I didn't mean to. I sniffled from difficulty breathing.
"Yes?" she asked, more hesitant and worried now.
"It's Randi...." I said softly and robotically, glancing around at the dark sky that was painted black by the wee hours of the morning.
"Are you okay? Where are you? What are you doing? What the fuck's going on?" she stammered on and on. I looked to my side and I wanted to bang my head against the metal pole that stood next to me. Why did all of my friends automatically think something was wrong when I called them? Because you're a fuck up and with you, everything goes wrong I spat at myself inside my mind. I pursed my lips patheticly and started talking again.
"Will you come pick me up...." I trailed off silently.
"Where?" she asked intently. I told her the street names and she told me that she would be there in about 3 or 4 minutes. She was evidently living with her boyfriend and he lived just down the road on another street. I was going to fight with her about the fact that it wasn't even her house and I couldn't possible stay there, but right now all I wanted was warmth and comfort and a friend.