Escape

Everyone makes mistakes and if you are lucky...you live through them and learn something.

I was more than obvious that I was under the influence of something. And when everything went black after I hit my head, my head kept screaming at me about how stupid I was. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I couldn't see anything and every sound echoed painfully in my ears. I felt myself being lifted and then carefully put down on something so soft. I was trying to move. Trying to speak. Trying to do anything but just lay there.

Someone turned my head to the side and I felt a stinging cold on the back of my head. I hit it hard and it was throbbing like something was trying to escape from within my brain.

"That's a bad one," I thought I heard Chris whisper. It could have been him. Or maybe it was God. Because I could swear I was dying or already dead.

I faded out or something but the cold, wet something that tickled my stomach brought me back enough to just feel. My shirt was pulled up half way and there was hands and maybe lips touching the skin of my stomach. I wanted to scream. I wanted to stand up and fight it away, but I still couldn't move or see or speak. For a brief moment, I wanted to die.

"You are as beautiful as I thought you would be." I was sure it was Chris' voice this time.

I felt like I was going to puke. I had to get out of this situation, I had to. I concentrated on opening my eyes. It took, what seemed like, forever to get them open and when I did, I wanted to close them again. He was licking and kissing my stomach with his shirt off. He was shaking and sweating and the memory of MM's dad, the last night I saw her, flooded me. Both men knew that what they were doing was so wrong, but they still went on with it.

I could feel him unbuttoning my jeans and pure fear filled with adrenalin flowed through my veins. I was not going to let this happen. He pulled down my zipper and was about to slide his hand down my pants but there was a knock on the door. I silently thanked God.

At first, he froze. So still, I had almost thought that he had gone. But when the person at the door banged harder and longer, he removed his hands from me. He pulled on his shirt and walked out his bedroom door.

I knew this was going to be my only chance. I tried several times to scream...something, anything. All that would come out was a loud whisper. I struggled to move my hands, my feet, my arms, anything. Nothing was easy. But finally, I was able to sit up. I was so fucking dizzy and everything kept fading in and out of the darkness. With a little more effort, I got my legs to move and then my arms.

I heard the front door slam. Chris walked back in the bedroom and smiled at me. "Are you okay?" he asked. "You hit your head pretty hard."

I still couldn't speak. It took too much effort. I brought my hands to my face, trying to clear my head enough for me to get away. It was like my brain signals to my limbs was being blocked. I was trying so hard to force my legs to the side of the bed so I could get up but they weren't listening. All I could get was twitches in my feet.

"You should really lay back down." Chris walked over to me, and with the slightest pressure on my shoulder, pushed me back down on the pillow.

He pulled off his shirt again and sat beside me, brushing my hair from my face. If I could just stop the world from spinning, I kept thinking, then I could concentrate enough to get away. He leaned over and kissed my forehead. His grin disgusted me.

I closed my eyes. I had never felt so defenseless in my entire life. He knew exactly what was going to happen that day. He had a plan. He knew I wouldn't go in his house willingly. He knew that whatever drug he had given me would make me...weak. It would make me unable to fight. I wasn't sure how much the blow to my head had helped the drugs and his plan because I didn't know what he had given me. I started to doubt that I had fallen at all. I began to think that he probably hit me with something. And if he did hit me with something, there was no guarantee that he wasn't going to do it again.

I felt his weight shift. He crawled on top of me and had lifted my shirt again. This time, he lifted it higher. My chest was exposed. He looked up at me and smiled again.

"I am going to make you feel so good. So much better than M ever could." He slid up my body and kissed me hard. And when I wouldn't open my mouth, he bit my lips even harder. "Come on. I know this is what you want." His voice was angry and evil.

His mouth moved to my neck. His tongue, his teeth, his lips, were all over my skin. I was going to throw up. His hands were touching me, gripping me, grabbing me. He moved his hand between my legs and tried to spread them. With everything I could conjure inside of me, I raised my knee at full force and nailed him in the crotch. He gasped for breath and rolled over to my side. It was like I was in slow motion, but I pushed myself up and to the edge of the bed. He grabbed for me but I slung my elbow back and hit him in the face. I took a deep breath and pushed myself up off the bed. He reached for me again and grabbed my left arm.

No way, I thought. This is not going to happen like this and it is never going to happen with him. With the little energy I had left, I balled the fist of my right hand and swung, aiming at his crotch again. He let me go.

I had very little energy left. And as I tried to move to get out of his room, I looked around for something I could use as a weapon if I needed to. That's when I saw it all. There were pictures of me everywhere. Drawing and actual photo's. His room was covered, floor to ceiling, wall to wall, with me. Chris was so much more than sick. I got the bedroom door open and I could hear him struggling behind me.

I felt like I was about to black out again but I fought it with everything I could. I made it out his door, he was limping behind me and I knew he was catching me. The front door looked so far away and it seemed to be swaying or something, but then I realized I was the one swaying. I fell to the floor and started to crawl. I wasn't going to give up.

He caught me, grabbing my leg, and began to drag me back to his room. He was ranting something but nothing made sense. I put my arms out and held on to the edge of the walls. He pulled harder and I thought my shoulder muscles were going to rip in half. I raised my other leg and kicked him in the side of his knee. I kept kicking that knee until he let me go. He yelled loud in pain and hit the floor. I crawled as fast as I could to that damn front door. I flung it open and fell down the front steps. The light was stinging my eyes and seeing was so difficult. I searched, with my hands, for my skateboard.

"B!" I heard Shane yell out. "B, are you okay."
When his hand grabbed my shoulder, I swung at him. I wasn't sure it was really him.
"B, its me. Its Shane." He lifted me to my feet.
"My board. Where is it?" I asked in a rasp.
I heard the wood of my deck hit the steps. He pushed it in my hand. "What the fuck is going on?"
"Shane, just help me get the hell out of here." I squinted my eyes, still struggling to see.
"I'm gonna fucking kill him," Shane yelled. "Did he unbutton your pants? And your fucking bleeding, he is so dead."