I Swear I'm Not a Hopeless Case

"Shh," he said. "Be quiet."
The words he spoke almost exuded some type of sick divinity. They were soft, terse demands dipped in an artificial sweetness far more treacherous than any malicious exchange I had ever engaged in with another person.
But he wasn't a person. He was an insidious person whom I had always avoided. He emanated a potent, worrisome presence that always had me on edge, searching for an escape route every time we were in the same room or circle of friends. His gaze itself was harrowing enough. He looked at me as if I was simply a physical being, my sole purpose to adorn myself with clothing and make-up and jewelry to make myself more presentable, more physical. As cliche as it sounds, I was a piece of meat; nothing more. He unsettled me.
"Stop moving, Annie," He said with great urgency, "It will be easier if you would just go with the flow."
Tears brimmed at the base of my eyelashes and threatened to spill over. But I wouldn't let them. I would be weak, then. I would not let him see my weakness. I would not go with the flow- I would not beg. I would fight, just like my father always taught me to. I would not acquiesce.
"Fuck you, Adam," I spat with disgust, "Fuck you and your little prick."
I felt him tighten his grip on my arms, which were pinned above my head. I had angered him further. A part of me scolded myself for making my situation worse, a part of me was satisfied. I had upset him. I had turned the tables on his sick, twisted quest for the feeling of control.
He shifted his weight, allowing me access to move my left leg. Although slightly numb from the drugs I was given, I could still maneuver it at my whim. I quickly took the opportunity to connect my knee to his exposed groin. He grunted painfully, spewing expletives, and then proceeded to roll off of me. I took my opportunity, grabbed my jeans from the end of the bed and ran out the door into the hallway. I didn't even bother to look back. Tears rolled down my cheeks defiantly. At that point showing weakness was the furthest thing from my mind. I ran through the house, climbing over the copious clusters of high teenagers lying on the floor and draped over furniture. I heard footsteps behind me, which flared my desperate attempt to find an escape. I spotted the front door and ran outside, not stopping until I was two full, suburban blocks away from the house. I caught my breath and put my pants on. It took the late autumn chill to make me cognizant of the fact that I had no shirt on, only a bra with a broken strap.
I looked back to see if he had followed me, but found the surrounding area empty. A sigh of relief escaped my lips and tears began to flow freely from my eyes. I looked behind me once more before drying my eyes with the back of my hand.My hands searched my pocket for my phone, praying it hadn't fallen out during all of the commotion. I found the bulge in my back pocket and sent a quick 'thank you' prayer to the man upstairs. I hastily dialed the only person I could really trust.
"Hello?"
Despite the tears rolling down my cheeks, the sound of his voice molded the slightest smile upon my face. "Greg, can you come pick me up?"
"Liv, what's wrong?"
I laughed lightly in a morose manner. "I'm in a bit of a precarious situation at the moment. Could you please just come and get me?"
He sighed. "Of course. Where are you?"
I smiled. My knight in shining armor.

I woke with a start. I pushed the hair out of my face only to realize it was soaking wet and stuck to my face. Then I realized most of my body was damp and covered in sweat. I kicked off my blanket, exposing myself to the cooler air in my room. My heart was pounding rapidly, creating a throbbing sensation in my ear drums. I was shaking slightly, both out of terror and relief. It was only a dream. It wasn't going to happen again. It was all in the past. Nobody was going to hurt me.

"You never did tell me what happened that night."

I jumped, completely startled. I looked in the direction the voice had come from, despite knowing whose it was by heart. There, sitting in the corner of my room on my cheap ikea chair was Greg.
I stared blatantly, shocked to see his face. He looked no different than he had a few months ago. Dirty blonde hair, eyes the color of fresh celery, jawbone cut and defined perfectly. He was smiling slightly, which took my breath away. His smiles always affected me greatly. He was too handsome for his own good. He was too handsome for me. What did he ever see in me?
"Lots of things, Liv." He chuckled. "You always were your biggest critic."
I exhaled heavily, only then realizing I had been holding my breath. It felt as if my heart stopped beating and my body was shutting down. How can I see him? Why can I see him?
I shook my head violently and closed my eyes. "You're not real. You're dead."
I heard him laughed lightly. "Dead, well, that I am. But if I'm not real, then how can you see me?"
I opened my eyes and met his. They were boring into mine, even deeper. He always saw straight into my soul, it seemed. Unlike Adam, Greg looked at me and saw <i> me </i>, not my body. It was almost as if my physical appearance was just a cloak over who I really was. To him, it mattered not what I looked like- only how I felt. He loved me for who I was and the feeling was mutual. We connected on a level that was rare. I would never find a man who would share such a heady, deep interaction with me. Greg had both simultaneously created and ruined love for me.
"We were once in a lifetime, Liv. Don't forget that."
I diverted my eyes away from his and put my head in my hands. "Leave me alone, Greg." I felt hot tears run through the cracks of my fingers. "You're dead. You're gone. Now let me be."
After a whole minute of silence, I looked up and he was gone. My chest felt empty, just like every other time he left me.