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It's Raining So Hard
I raise my head when I notice movement coming from the other side of the bedroom. There she lies, completely nude with one hand tucked beneath her cheek and the other carelessly draped behind her head. I may be the model but she is the true beauty.

I bury my head in my hands and I feel my heart beating in my tummy. I'm thinking about the piles of homework that I should be doing... strike that...should have completed already, but I still just sit and think. That is all I can seem to do anymore. I think about what needs done, what I have done, what I have failed to do, what I wish to do, and how I wish to do it. I haven't been able to eat for about a month or so and I fear that I may be slipping back into some nasty habits.

Shaking my head from side to side I push myself off of the little black sofa. I look at the woman sleeping less then 15 feet from me and it feels like shes 100 miles away. She is beautiful beyond all recognition with her heart-shaped face, soft features, and full lips. She tosses and turns then twists her body to the edge of the bed. After sleeping with me for so long it has become habit to end up on the edge of the bed...for I am the World's Most Ferocious Bed-Hog.
I try to sip my coca cola (the only thing I can really keep down without feeling like I'm going to explode unspeakable terror out of every orifice of my body) but my stomach twinges and I grab the soft spot of my lower abdomen while scrunching my nose.

Though I am in my early 20s I swear to god I get hot flashes. I walk back to the black sofa and I strip out of my black T-shirt and my favorite champagne patterned panties. I think to myself
"I have an ass that could kill." and I smile at this, a motion I have learned to master. The smile quickly dissipates at my memory. Raptor clawed-digitigrades, pink light, soft laughter:
"I LOVE your ass!"
I frown and continue living...

After tugging the soaked fabric from my hips I stand, like so many times before, in front of the mirror. I look at my curvy, strong frame. I am halfway between a brick wall and an hourglass with many slash marks across my smooth, white skin as a reminder of what humanity really looks like. My collar bones are protruding more and more with every fasting day and my muscles are becoming more pronounced. I smile at this and grab my breasts, forcing them into a popping cleavage. The silky-smoothness and pink color of my nipples is the only thing innocent about this body.

I am currently sore from the sex and I have some bruises forming below my collar bone. She still hasn't been able to bring herself to bite me like I want, but a bruise is a bruise and pounded pussy is a pounded pussy. Cue cum and wrap.
All of a sudden I look at my reflection in what I see as pinkish light, and the bridge between my sanity and my darkest of days shatters. I silently and painfully sink to the seat of the sofa, and the memory of her silk robe against my waist aches in my mind. Hateful sobs are working their way up from the deepest, dankest parts of me and I crumble burying my face into my hands. Always selfish, always in the middle. I must control myself...
But I hear the rain.
It is raining so hard.
Looks like it's gonna rain all night.

Rage flushes through me, I strap my breasts to my sternum, slide into some straight leg jeans and another black shirt, and stuff my bare feet into some sneaks. Lets go out for a walk!
Before I sneak out, avoiding my roommates eyes and worries, I tread softly to the freezer, grab myself some rum and down it straight from the bottle. Fire explodes the back of my mouth and I fight the gag reflex again. I open up the fridge and grab a beer...none other than a Black and Tan. Ahh, blissful memories sweep me off of my feet and straight into misery.
She loves Black and Tan.
I love her.

Fuck Me.

I bolt down the beer and follow that with another and crumple each can in my tiny hands. I look down at my chewed finger tips with disgust before tossing the garbage out. A little midnight walk will do me some good and with the alcohol to keep me somewhat warm, who could argue my logic?
I hear a bedroom door open and I steal out the back door, quietly and discreetly, for I don't want anyone asking me questions.
In retrospect...I really should have mentioned to someone that I was leaving, but at this point I am not thinking, I am only feeling.

The rain is heavy and I hunch my shoulders against it as I work my way down the blank and dark street. I am not sure where I am going or what I am doing. After 10 minutes of walking I am soaked to the bone and my short, dark hair is plastered to the side of my head. It is a Thursday night in a college town and this means only one thing. Drunks. Drunks. Drunks.

I find myself in a place that I know I shouldn't be. I turn off of the main street and find a secret little nook to sit and think momentarily... who knows what is going to happen when I come back soaking wet? What am I doing here? I should be home doing my homework and not trying to fuck everything up. Damn my breaking heart and alcohol-fuzzed brain.

I look up and I see a light go on in her window, my heart rate jumps. I think to myself
"What have I done? If I could break myself in two I would gladly give it all to each of you. If-"
I am slammed across the head and knocked off of the stump I was sitting on.
I look up and see three tall figures standing over me...drunk men.
"Shit." I think

"Hey hey hey," the tallest one slurs
"Aren't you the dyke from the news? I h-hear 'at you and the rest of your f-fag friends were chanting about being 'born this way'."
His friends laugh at his flamboyant impression of the GaGa song. I stay seated on the wet road waiting for someone to spot us. Anyone. The men quit their banter and got right to business by burying an iron-toed boot into my side, a fist to my cheek, and another heel to my shin. I feel something crack as their laughter booms somewhere in the distance.

I am forced back into memory.

His big, strong hands, shaped exactly like mine, begin restraining me at my shoulders and end at my throat. Clutching, crushing. I scream in protest and flail uncontrollably. He detests me for all of my trouble and I deserve the beating...I always do. I roar in a voice much fuller and deeper than my normal timbre in attempts to free myself from his impending weight and as a last attempt, I spit directly into his face. He presses my head into his wife's rough, stain-resistant carpet and spits a large wad of saliva into my eyes. I shake my head from side to side bellowing out of rage, terror, guilt, and regret...and I black out.

I am back to the dark, dirty and wet nightmare. I hold back a scream as one of the men picks me up and throws me onto the hood of a car. His friends are looking around and acting quickly.
"How is no one hearing this?"
I wonder frantically. I know that I need to get out and run, I have been drinking, I am gay, and the Boro police will be involved. I have to get away.

A side of me agrees that I deserve this, but the other side is making my body fight back. It is what I always feared. I try to stay quiet so I can slip away, I am still foolish enough to think that I am tough enough. If I don't believe in myself, I am certain the these drunken bigots will murder me.

"What the fuck are you?!" the one spues into my face through gritted teeth.
"It...you're just a fuckin' IT!" they start chanting.
I look for a way out, but I am pinned to the hood of the car. One of men grapples my left arm and the other my right. The tallest one pulls me by the hips to the edge of the car and begins to unbuckle his belt.
White hot terror fills my mouth with iron and I fight back the urge to vomit as one slams me in the abdomen.

"help." I whisper in my own head.
"Please..h-h-help me."











to be continued...




Submitted by:
MariMadlyn

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