Sequel: With Everything I Won't Let This Go ›
These Words Are My Heart and Soul
Oh, Oh, How Could You Do It?
# I don’t care if Monday’s blue… #
The music blared and we danced, his one hand on my waist and his other on the side of my face. We weren’t drunk, though we’d had a little to drink. He smiled happily at me, a look of content across his ever - dare I say that cruel word - perfect features. A look that was supposed to make me believe that he cared. But it didn’t; no one cared about me.
“You know, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”
“Well, you’ve obviously not met many people,” I grinned falsely.
He laughed, stroking my face gently and looking at me as if he actually did mean it. But he’d given me that look before. Yet, there was something different about the way he gave me it. There was something in his eyes that I couldn’t identify; but in the year I’d known him, I’d come to learn that he was good at masking his emotion in his eyes.
“Look, let’s be serious for a sec,” he laughed.
“Me? Serious? You’re ‘avin’ a larf,” I smiled, in a strange accent.
At this sarcastic comment, he laughed again. Not a harsh cackle or a coarse chortle, but… a laugh. Almost a giggle but a jolly chuckle in its own right, with just a hint of that schoolgirl “teehee” element. It was such an adorable laugh, but I wasn’t going to admit that.
# It’s Friday I’m in love… #
“Look, I’m not good at this shit, but… I want you to wear this,” he said.
I looked at him bluntly, as he dug around in his pants pocket for whatever he wanted me to wear. He pulled out a plain chain, his hand covering the pendant so I couldn’t see, and something else shiny that he was also hiding.
“T-Turn around,” he whispered nervously.
Like I said, I’d only known him a year, but in that whole year, he’d never been nervous or shy. He usually just did it and brushed everything off with a laugh and a joke, kinda like me. Guess that’s why I liked him.
So I did what he said, turning on my heel and facing the band stand. Something cold fell against my neck and chest, and I felt all the color drain out of me into the floor. My hands curled into fists, so tight that I could feel a small trickle of blood from where my nails were digging in. My eyes started to well up as I looked down, seeing a plain chain with a pendant twisted into the shape of his first initial.
Turning back round, I saw he was fiddling nervously with something in his hand.
“Wear this?”
He held out a small silver band, and I felt my arm extending itself. His face lit up dramatically and he slipped the band onto my finger. There was a matching one on his same finger; I knew things had gotten serious. I felt the tears verging threateningly on the edges of my eyelids, and decided to make up some clever excuse to run home and collapse into a dilapidated heap of depressed being.
“I’m hungry.”
Okay, so not the best excuse in the world. But he bought it, laughing that adorable laugh and following me slowly as I practically ran to the place I’d been calling home for a while now. Clambering over the threshold, I dived into the bathroom and cried quietly to myself, reliving the memories as those thoughts of impending suicide exploded in my mind.
***
“But I don’t want to…”
“Come on babe, it won’t hurt, I promise. You’ll enjoy it.”
“But… but…”
“Look, if you loved me you would.”
“I-I-I do love you, it’s just…”
“It’s okay, it won’t hurt, I swear.”
“O-Okay…”
I was scared, I didn’t know what to do. I mean, of course I knew all about sex; I was sixteen after all. It’s just that I didn’t feel I was ready. Not that I didn’t want my first time to be with him (at the time), I just… wasn’t… ready.
But I’d agreed and I couldn’t stop it as he undressed us both and slowly pushed himself in. I whimpered as he broke me, not sure what to do. He moaned and groaned and grunted with pleasure, terrifying me as he touched me in ways he hadn’t before. He’d promised it wouldn’t hurt, he said I’d enjoy it. But I was scared.
I was just a fucking kid. He was twenty-one.
***
The music blared and we danced, his one hand on my waist and his other on the side of my face. We weren’t drunk, though we’d had a little to drink. He smiled happily at me, a look of content across his ever - dare I say that cruel word - perfect features. A look that was supposed to make me believe that he cared. But it didn’t; no one cared about me.
“You know, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”
“Well, you’ve obviously not met many people,” I grinned falsely.
He laughed, stroking my face gently and looking at me as if he actually did mean it. But he’d given me that look before. Yet, there was something different about the way he gave me it. There was something in his eyes that I couldn’t identify; but in the year I’d known him, I’d come to learn that he was good at masking his emotion in his eyes.
“Look, let’s be serious for a sec,” he laughed.
“Me? Serious? You’re ‘avin’ a larf,” I smiled, in a strange accent.
At this sarcastic comment, he laughed again. Not a harsh cackle or a coarse chortle, but… a laugh. Almost a giggle but a jolly chuckle in its own right, with just a hint of that schoolgirl “teehee” element. It was such an adorable laugh, but I wasn’t going to admit that.
# It’s Friday I’m in love… #
“Look, I’m not good at this shit, but… I want you to wear this,” he said.
I looked at him bluntly, as he dug around in his pants pocket for whatever he wanted me to wear. He pulled out a plain chain, his hand covering the pendant so I couldn’t see, and something else shiny that he was also hiding.
“T-Turn around,” he whispered nervously.
Like I said, I’d only known him a year, but in that whole year, he’d never been nervous or shy. He usually just did it and brushed everything off with a laugh and a joke, kinda like me. Guess that’s why I liked him.
So I did what he said, turning on my heel and facing the band stand. Something cold fell against my neck and chest, and I felt all the color drain out of me into the floor. My hands curled into fists, so tight that I could feel a small trickle of blood from where my nails were digging in. My eyes started to well up as I looked down, seeing a plain chain with a pendant twisted into the shape of his first initial.
Turning back round, I saw he was fiddling nervously with something in his hand.
“Wear this?”
He held out a small silver band, and I felt my arm extending itself. His face lit up dramatically and he slipped the band onto my finger. There was a matching one on his same finger; I knew things had gotten serious. I felt the tears verging threateningly on the edges of my eyelids, and decided to make up some clever excuse to run home and collapse into a dilapidated heap of depressed being.
“I’m hungry.”
Okay, so not the best excuse in the world. But he bought it, laughing that adorable laugh and following me slowly as I practically ran to the place I’d been calling home for a while now. Clambering over the threshold, I dived into the bathroom and cried quietly to myself, reliving the memories as those thoughts of impending suicide exploded in my mind.
***
“But I don’t want to…”
“Come on babe, it won’t hurt, I promise. You’ll enjoy it.”
“But… but…”
“Look, if you loved me you would.”
“I-I-I do love you, it’s just…”
“It’s okay, it won’t hurt, I swear.”
“O-Okay…”
I was scared, I didn’t know what to do. I mean, of course I knew all about sex; I was sixteen after all. It’s just that I didn’t feel I was ready. Not that I didn’t want my first time to be with him (at the time), I just… wasn’t… ready.
But I’d agreed and I couldn’t stop it as he undressed us both and slowly pushed himself in. I whimpered as he broke me, not sure what to do. He moaned and groaned and grunted with pleasure, terrifying me as he touched me in ways he hadn’t before. He’d promised it wouldn’t hurt, he said I’d enjoy it. But I was scared.
I was just a fucking kid. He was twenty-one.
***