Ghost of You

I laid on my bed with the curtains drawn, my wrists burning from where the leather belt had connected with them, my back stinging from where I had hit the floor after falling over one of the kitchen chairs. Gordon took my cellphone and tossed me in my bedroom. He told me I had to keep the door closed, the lights off, and the curtains drawn.

I whimpered to myself, trying to muffle the sobs, as tears swiftly cascaded down my cheeks, staining my white pillowcase. My heart was beating insanely in my chest, feeling as if it was on fire.

My bedroom door suddenly flew open, sunlight falling in from the hallway. Gordon's drunken form stood in the archway. He was hiccuping. I shut my eyes and gripped the sheets as he sauntered over to my bedside. I could hear his heavy breathing as he sat abruptly on my bed.

“Tom,” he said, though it came out like 'Tawm.'

I swallowed, trying to force away the lump in my throat. I could smell the beer on his breath. He stroked my dreadlocks with shaking fingers. I held my breath, hoping that if he thought I was sleeping, he would leave. I knew deep down inside he wouldn't.

“Tom,” he whispered again, moving his hands down to stroke my sides.

I shivered and curled up into a ball at the touch of his hands. I could hear him giggle. “Tomi Bear,” he whispered into my ear.

Gordon grabbed my legs suddenly. I cried in outrage, flailing around, as he straightened my legs, sitting on them so I could not move away. I squirmed under his heavy body weight.

“Get off!” I cried, pounding his stomach with my fists, trying to take in a breath. He laughed as if I was tickling him.

Slowly, he grabbed my hips, running his palms up my shirt on my bare skin.

“G-Gordon, no!” I cried.

“Shush,” he hissed, grabbing my wrists and pinning them against the bed.

I laid still, the smell of alcohol so strong I wanted to vomit. Slowly, he leaned his head down and pushed his moist lips to mine. I whimpered underneath him.

He pulled back and laughed. “I've always liked you, Tom. Out of you and Bill, you were my favorite. Breaking the rules, pulling pranks.” He sighed. “And then Bill died, and it's like you grew a shell and hid in it.” He leaned over me again. “I don't like it, Tom.”

“Get off!” I cried again, his grip on my wrists tightening, my stomach doing flips.

“Just relax,” he whispered, pushing his lips to my neck and kissing me roughly.

I squeezed shut my eyes.

“Aww, what's wrong, Tom? I thought you'd like this.” He laughed in my ear.

He let go of my arms and smiled at me, leaning down to pull up my shirt, kissing around my bellybutton. I gripped the sheets and cried out.

“Take off your shirt, Tom.”

“NO!” I cried, trying to fight him off.

He snarled at me and slugged me in the cheek. I felt like I was in another world as he tugged my shirt sloppily above my head, tossing it to the floor. He began to kiss up and down my chest, down to my bellybutton, then up to my nipples. I began to cry as he nibbled on my ear. He smiled against my cheek, kissing it softly.

“Goodnight, Tom,” he whispered, pulling away.

He shoved me between the wall and himself, wrapping his arms tightly around my torso, although I squirmed and struggled to pull away. It wasn't long before he was asleep, and I was sobbing next to him.