But Inside I'm Screaming
The Party
The night is dark. Trees rustle all around in a subtle breeze. They are at a party, it's not out of control, not just yet. She stands there in the midst of the trees. Her clothing is modest, much unlike the other girl's clothing. They dressed as slutty as they could for this blow out party.
The branches of the trees sway gently to and fro in the gentle breeze. She has a weird feeling in her gut, but she chooses to ignore it. She chooses to ignore the intuition biting away at her that this party is no good. She can feel that it will get out of hand, that something bad will happen, and she can do nothing about it.
She holds a bottle of beer in her hand. Her hair is up, away from her face. She drinks tentatively from the bottle and then looks down at her shoes. She feels so out of place here at this party. She sighs inwardly and takes another sip from the bottle.
Someone comes up to her, someone that she knows. He is sober, but appears as though he is drunk. He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her close to him. She resists, but he is stronger than he looks.He presses his lips to hers and all she wants to do is get away from him. He lowers his head from her mouth and presses his soft lips against the side of her neck. She doesn't want him on her, but she is helpless to get away. He has her arms pinned at her sides and she cannot get away no matter how much she persists. He pushes her shirt down and caresses her nipple before she pushes him away. She did not want this. She gasps out as the person she knew walks away, her breast still out. Another person comes up to her. She wipes the tears that she didn't know were there away and pulls up her shirt.
This person she recognizes, but cannot place his name. His face blurs in her memory and she has a hard time remembering exactly who he is. A smirk makes its way onto his face as he notices her stance. Her clothes askew, tears drying on her pallid cheeks. He comes closer to her and whispers lowly, seductively in her ear. His words are not remembered, but his actions are. He shuffles closer to her, that smirk still on his face. He pulls down her shirt and rubs the pink nub. She is rooted to the spot by fear. People pass by them, but she cannot call out to them. She screams, but she is not heard. He laughs and lowers his hands to her jeans. Why can't she do anything?
He kisses her on the lips, his breath blows across her skin, hot. Her screams are not heard and she cannot lash out. It's like he has a powerful hold on her and she can't be released from it until he says so. His face is burned into her memory.
The dream changes.
The branches of the trees sway gently to and fro in the gentle breeze. She has a weird feeling in her gut, but she chooses to ignore it. She chooses to ignore the intuition biting away at her that this party is no good. She can feel that it will get out of hand, that something bad will happen, and she can do nothing about it.
She holds a bottle of beer in her hand. Her hair is up, away from her face. She drinks tentatively from the bottle and then looks down at her shoes. She feels so out of place here at this party. She sighs inwardly and takes another sip from the bottle.
Someone comes up to her, someone that she knows. He is sober, but appears as though he is drunk. He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her close to him. She resists, but he is stronger than he looks.He presses his lips to hers and all she wants to do is get away from him. He lowers his head from her mouth and presses his soft lips against the side of her neck. She doesn't want him on her, but she is helpless to get away. He has her arms pinned at her sides and she cannot get away no matter how much she persists. He pushes her shirt down and caresses her nipple before she pushes him away. She did not want this. She gasps out as the person she knew walks away, her breast still out. Another person comes up to her. She wipes the tears that she didn't know were there away and pulls up her shirt.
This person she recognizes, but cannot place his name. His face blurs in her memory and she has a hard time remembering exactly who he is. A smirk makes its way onto his face as he notices her stance. Her clothes askew, tears drying on her pallid cheeks. He comes closer to her and whispers lowly, seductively in her ear. His words are not remembered, but his actions are. He shuffles closer to her, that smirk still on his face. He pulls down her shirt and rubs the pink nub. She is rooted to the spot by fear. People pass by them, but she cannot call out to them. She screams, but she is not heard. He laughs and lowers his hands to her jeans. Why can't she do anything?
He kisses her on the lips, his breath blows across her skin, hot. Her screams are not heard and she cannot lash out. It's like he has a powerful hold on her and she can't be released from it until he says so. His face is burned into her memory.
The dream changes.