Tan, Leather Seats

The thing Sariah remembered the most about that night was the seats of his car. His backseat to be more specific. She hadn't wanted to, but she was so wasted, so smashed that she couldn't comprehend what was going on.

Leather seats. Dark tan with cigarette burns in them and the smell of dignity lost. She thought she could trust him, thought he was an okay guy. They were just going for a walk, right? If only Amy hadn't fed her so much alcohol. If only Kirsten's weed wasn't so "knock me on my ass".

She didn't think she said no. Then again, she couldn't even remember her own name at the time. Where was Amy? They were supposed to get up early the next morning for work together. Who was he again? Tony was his name. Tony with the Mustang that had tan, leather seats. His skin was the same color as his dark fabric. She made a joke about that before he shoved his tongue in her mouth and his hands in her jeans.

Sariah was so young. Barely seventeen and he was twenty-two with a baby on the way. She mumbled that she wanted to go back inside a few times, but Tony didn't hear her. He was far too preoccupied on getting her into the backseat. What was her name again? It wasn't rape if she didn't protest, right?

He was a sick human being. Sariah was not the first, not the second, but the third girl he had done this to. He stayed quiet in the shadows, watched her get out of her mind wasted, and then struck like a cobra. Amy had no idea where her best friend really was. As far as Tony told her, they were on their way to Wal-Mart and he would bring her home soon.

The next morning and the weeks after it happened, Sariah didn't remember most of that night. Just the seats and his name were all she could recall. She thought it was consensual. He came for her again at a show three weeks after he first got her into his backseat. This time, however, she did say "no".

She yelled and screamed it at him. Kicked and punched it into him. Sariah finally made it off of those tan seats and into the street. She ran like hell with her top almost off, but crying all the way. Tony threw himself into the driver's seat and tried to race after her, but she had dashed back into the venue to hide in the bathroom. Amy crouched beside her to hear the tale.

After lighting a cigarette and having a few friends escort Tony off of the premises, Sariah sat on the curb with her head in her hands. She hadn't wanted it. She just wanted to have a good time with her friends. Rape wasn't a word that was even in her vocabulary. Rapists are old guys who creep on you when you're walking home. They don't look like young, attractive, guys. Was it really rape the first time if she didn't say "no"?

No one had answers for Sariah that satisfied her. They would all just ball their fists, curl their mouths into a growl, and curse his name when ever she asked. They said she was innocent, that he was just a fucking wastiod who preyed on young girls. Sariah couldn't remember if the first time was consensual. Her mind couldn't process what was going through her head that dark night.

She didn't want to press charges. Sariah knew that the cops wouldn't be able to pin him, because she had been so wasted. Why couldn't it all just go away? Never again would she be able to see tan leather again without remembering what had been done to her. Had Tony even used a condom? Did she need to get tested? The latter question is obvious, but these questions still plagued her.

Men couldn't be trusted. Las Vegas men in particular were cruel. She knew now first hand the dangers of playing with fire. It was on that curb that Sariah finally started crying. Amy had teared up and held her after she told her story, but Sariah had stayed strong. Maybe it was all of the alcohol in her system that made her so numb, but the sobs finally flowed easily. She wanted him dead on her doorstep for what he had done. Tony had to pay.

Gathering a small group of fairly large men, Sariah called Tony up. She apologized for freaking out earlier, told him she had been very drunk and reliving an old nightmare. Could he come see her so they can talk things out? Giggling like she was drunk, she agreed to meet him at the very same parking lot where she had run from him not an hour prior.

Four of her biggest guy friends hid in their car a hundred feet from where she stood. Once she texted them, they would run up and beat the living shit out of Tony for doing what he had done. He had to pay. There was no way around it. He wouldn't end up in the hospital, but he would need a doctor the next day.

Twenty minutes and two cigarettes after Sariah made the call, the blue Mustang with the tan seats entered the parking lot. She took a drink from her whiskey bottle for confidence and waved him down. He got out and hugged her tightly before sliding his hand over her ass. Sariah laughed while she kissed him sloppily. Her lipstick was still all over his face.

Signalling that she had a text really quick, she relayed to the guys that he was here. Moments later, they pounced on Tony. Sariah smoked her cigarette calmly and watched as the son of a bitch got his ass handed to him. Once he was on the floor begging for mercy, she strode up to him with a smirk on her pretty, little face.

"Don't you ever touch me or any other woman again, you sick fucking cunt," she growled before slamming the sharp end of her stilletto straight into his manhood.