I Always Hated Secrets.
Can't The End Come Now?
We had to go on stage soon. How soon, I don't know.
I looked around at the bland, dreary dressing room the venue provided for me. The cracked paint on the cement walls made it seems so cold and ugly. It was cold and ugly.
I looked down at the stained, cranberry red carpet. My face twisted into a sort of grimace. The carpet reminded me too much of blood.
I don't like blood anymore. Ray made me hate it. The way he makes me bleed, and doesn't care at all.
I shook my head in disgust and squinted my now, dead, lifeless hazel eyes, trying to keep the tears from falling.
Stripping down into nothing, I cringed, looking at my broken, beaten, raped body.
I studied myself in the dusty mirror.
My legs were bruised and bonier than ever. I had red marks and cuts and scrapes all over them. Scabs were clinging onto my skin, half of them begging to fall off or get ripped off.
My thighs had hand marks bruised into them, from where Ray grips my legs. There's little cuts and scabs too, from where his nails would break through my skin and make me bleed.
All around my penis, it was red and bruised, like everywhere else.
My hips jutted out slightly, and even more bruises and cuts were littered around my torso and back.
My shoulder had a disgusting humongous hickey on it, from when two weeks ago Ray shoved me into a stall and started sucking on my shoulder, to 'prepare me for later on.'
I'm a rape victim.
My own best friend, hehas sex rapes me probably two times a week.
That's only because he knows my secret. I don't understand why making me his personal sex slave would benefit him.
Just because he got horny on the road? Well, we all do and we aren't a band full of rapists.
The sick thing is, no matter how much he hurts me, no matter how much he fucks me until I bleed and can't walk, and have to make up an excuse about how I fell on a rock, or sat on a drum stick, no matter how much he abuses me, I still consider him my best friend.
I sighed and let a few hot tears take their course down my cheeks.
I can't live with this anymore.
I want my secret out. I want to tell everyone.
Mikey, Bob, Brian, and especially Gerard.
After all, the secret is that I am in love with him.
I looked around at the bland, dreary dressing room the venue provided for me. The cracked paint on the cement walls made it seems so cold and ugly. It was cold and ugly.
I looked down at the stained, cranberry red carpet. My face twisted into a sort of grimace. The carpet reminded me too much of blood.
I don't like blood anymore. Ray made me hate it. The way he makes me bleed, and doesn't care at all.
I shook my head in disgust and squinted my now, dead, lifeless hazel eyes, trying to keep the tears from falling.
Stripping down into nothing, I cringed, looking at my broken, beaten, raped body.
I studied myself in the dusty mirror.
My legs were bruised and bonier than ever. I had red marks and cuts and scrapes all over them. Scabs were clinging onto my skin, half of them begging to fall off or get ripped off.
My thighs had hand marks bruised into them, from where Ray grips my legs. There's little cuts and scabs too, from where his nails would break through my skin and make me bleed.
All around my penis, it was red and bruised, like everywhere else.
My hips jutted out slightly, and even more bruises and cuts were littered around my torso and back.
My shoulder had a disgusting humongous hickey on it, from when two weeks ago Ray shoved me into a stall and started sucking on my shoulder, to 'prepare me for later on.'
I'm a rape victim.
My own best friend, hehas sex rapes me probably two times a week.
That's only because he knows my secret. I don't understand why making me his personal sex slave would benefit him.
Just because he got horny on the road? Well, we all do and we aren't a band full of rapists.
The sick thing is, no matter how much he hurts me, no matter how much he fucks me until I bleed and can't walk, and have to make up an excuse about how I fell on a rock, or sat on a drum stick, no matter how much he abuses me, I still consider him my best friend.
I sighed and let a few hot tears take their course down my cheeks.
I can't live with this anymore.
I want my secret out. I want to tell everyone.
Mikey, Bob, Brian, and especially Gerard.
After all, the secret is that I am in love with him.