by Casey Ford
“That’s my girlfriend you’re feeling up.” The drunk glares at Quentin.
“I don’t see no fucking ring on her finger,” he goads. “Makes her fair game.”
Arianna scoffs — or hiccups, not sure which.
“Why don’t we just forget this little incident even happened?” I interject.
“I mean, we’re leaving anyway.”
I don’t know why, but the drunk looks at me and just swings. I haven’t had a drop of alcohol all night, so I easily dodge the slow arc and speed of his fist. What I can’t avoid is the drunk’s off center tumble and flailing arms as he falls to the floor. A lucky shot to me cheek with a random half fist is enough to send my anger flaring again.
My vision turned white, but I’m mostly in control. I can stop myself from retaliating against the drunk. He’s flopping around on the ground like a fish out of water. It would be funny if I wasn’t angry.
“Let’s go,” I tell Arianna and Quentin. They nod and follow me out of the club.
I march into the parking lot. I’m full blown pissed at the world right now.
What the hell did I do to that guy to make him swing at me like that?
I was drawing a blank. I look over at Quentin and Arianna. He’s trying to comfort her after what she just went through. I try to calm myself, a few breaths and I’m slowly gaining control of my body again.
Great! Now my arm is starting to hurt.
“Where the hell did you learn to do that, Ari?” I ask with a slight laugh as I reach into my pocket for my Vicodin. A memory of the drunk dropping to the ground like a sack of dirty clothes flashes in my mind. I laugh again. Laughing helps with the calming. Arianna smiles evilly.
“Sam,” she says matter-of-factly. There is moment of silence and then I burst out laughing. I still feel out of it, but the laughter is a good distraction.
I pop a pill in my mouth and swallow.
“Yeah, that’s definitely something you could have picked up from her.”
A pair of headlights blind me for a second as a Honda Accord pulls into an empty space a few cars down from us.
We laugh together for few moments before I say my goodbyes. I give Quentin our traditional handshake — a few bumps of the fist then a half hug with our connected hands in-between. I give Ari a friendly hug and wait until I see them a good distance away before I allow myself drop the façade I’ve had up all night. I turn to my car and fumble with the key for a bit, I can’t stop the angry tears fighting to escape my eyes. I grimace and growl in frustration when I can’t stop my hands from shaking long enough to get the key in the hole.
I hear footsteps behind me and I stop, it doesn’t sound like Ethan’s normal shuffle step and so I start thinking it’s the drunk and his buddies come back for a second chance. What am I going to do if it is them? I turn to face them and my eyes grow large at the person standing in front of me.
She smiles when she sees my shocked face.
“So, why do you look like someone just drowned your cat?”
4 Years Ago (Age 16): August
I have no real feelings about having sex with Katelyn for the first time. I feel different, like I’m about to do something wrong, but I choose to ignore that feeling. This can’t be wrong, even if it’s not with the one I want it to be.
That one is busy elsewhere.
We unceremoniously strip ourselves in preparation. There is no sexy strip tease or playful banter. There isn’t even any sexy dirty talk or crazy sexually frustrating foreplay. It’s just us standing with our backs turned and stripping as fast as we can. She jumps into the bed as soon as she finishes before I can turn around so I can’t see her in her underwear — for some reason I think the sight will be more erotic than her in a bikini.
I climb into bed with her and position myself over her.
“Are you sure?” I ask for the umpteenth time. Despite her willingness, I’m still extremely nervous about this.
Katelyn nods her head — obviously, just as nervous as I am — lying on her back on my bed with my covers up to her neck. This is the reason she came over today. When I finally suggested it, she was so excited, now she looks like she’s about to pass out from fear.
Sex is a scary thing.
I want to have sex, but for some reason I can’t seem to muster enough passion to get into this. But I’m way too much of a guy to pass up something like this.
The feeling of wrongness is getting stronger.
I decide to break the nerves — and possibly cover this indecent feeling — by starting with something we’ve done numerous times before, kissing. We’ve done this so many times that we soon fall into our normal rhythm — fast and furious. Our tongues start their game of tag as we continue our routine. I remember that she likes it when I nip her ears and so I break our contact to kiss my way to her ear slowly. She realizes what I plan to do and turns her head slightly to give me better access.
Kate groans deep in her chest as I start sucking on her lobe. Gently alternating between sucking and biting causes her body to arch into mine. My body acts on its own and traces her half-naked body with my hand. When the blanket gets in the way of my exploration, I angrily throw it to the floor. I stop attacking her ear and prop myself up to get a better look at her.
Underwear is nothing like a bikini.
There is nothing more erotic than a girl’s unmentionables. The soft feel of the cotton — or silk in this case. The sparse use of lace to make them appear more arousing. The gentle shape wrapping around private parts like a present waiting to be opened.
The knowledge that only a chosen few are allowed to see them.
All of these factors make underwear and lingerie more seductive.
Sensual.
Kate obviously put some thought into her wardrobe. She’s wearing a red silk bra with lace on top that doesn’t restrict the cleavage view. Her panties are also silk and red. They cover only the most minimum they are required to, made mostly of strings. I definitely like what I see and my body reacts in kind. A small impish smile spreads across my face.
“What?” she asks me playfully. My eyes scan her body again, blatantly enough for her to notice. She starts to cover herself slightly.
“My friends helped me,” she tells me shyly, “they said it would help.”
I nod my head vigorously.
“Oh, it’s helping. It’s helping a lot,” I say and attack her mouth again. She sighs and moans at the same time into my mouth and arcs her body towards me again, trying to press as much flesh as she can onto me.
My hand continues its trek across her body to its final destination. Gripping her breast through the soft fabric, I lightly massage it in the cup of my hand. Gradually, I pinch her nipple through the silk and feel the smooth glide the fabric allows. Kate responds with a loud cry and moan.
She tries to crush her body to mine, gritting her teeth.
I’m only going through the motions though. These are all things we’ve done before; there’s nothing new here. It feels good to have her skin against mine, but it’s just a physical touch. I’m excited and nervous. I do have a reaction to Kate — physical and feral — but I can’t seem to focus on her and her alone.
I keep thinking about Sam.
Kate reaches into my boxers and grabs me in her tight grip. Despite the pleasure my body feels by her action, my mind starts to wonder deeper into my fantasies and subconscious. My body going into autopilot and following the lead she’s setting.
Suddenly it’s not Kate in front of me.
It’s Sam.
Everything around us is glowing slightly and I know somewhere in my mind that this is not real. I don’t care. She starts stroking me gently and I moan loudly at the touch. Crushing our mouths together, I slide my hand down Sam’s stomach to her core. I smoothly slip her panties off her hips and then grab the condom on the table by the bed.
Following the instructions I learned in sex ed, I put the condom on and position myself between her legs. I pause briefly an
d look at Kate. I close my eyes and my mind replaces Kate with Sam once again. The improper feeling dissipates at her image.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, there is a voice shouting at me to stop.
I’ve chosen to ignore it.
After a few missed approaches, one aborted entrance — too low — I finally thrust forward. Kate arches her back and screams in both pleasure and pain, my fantasy gives way to reality. I feel the pressure of her and the pleasure it affords, but again I feel no joy at the action.
I actually feel nothing but the lustful emotions that sex creates.
Sex doesn’t take anywhere nearly as long as porno makes it out to be. After a few minutes of bumping and grinding, moaning and crying, we both release — her more times than I do. Sweat glistens on our spent bodies and I collapse on her chest in exhaustion, careful to keep enough pressure on my arms so she can still breathe.
Sex is exhausting.
Kate giggles at me, obviously feeling more pleasure and contentment than I am. In fact, I can’t feel anything but a slight satisfaction, relief, and exhaustion. I return her smile out of courtesy. My first time could have gone worse, but it could have been better as well.
My thoughts move to Sam again.
I’ve given up trying to stop them; it doesn’t work.
I finally catch my breath and get up. Katelyn is still lying in the bed, lost in the afterglow. Removing the condom, I wrap it in a bunch of toilet paper and carefully hide it in the trash can — under a bunch of trash so casual parents looking in can’t see it. With luck, they’ll miss it completely. I turn, lock the bathroom door and sit on the toilet seat.
I feel nothing, empty.
The satisfaction is gone and all that remains is the voice in the back of my head yelling at me, “you idiot!” Reliving the past few minutes in my head, I start torturing myself with thoughts that Sam has been doing the same thing with Caleb. I actually imagine it playing out in front of me like a perverted, torturous, soul-crushing porno. Knowing how it feels now makes the fantasy feel all the more real.
My heart literally cracks down the middle.
Tears peak at my eyes but don’t fall.
I cover my face with my hands and try to breath calming breathes. It doesn’t help much. I wipe tears from my eyes before they fall; I’m a total mess.
My first time definitely could have been better.
Present Day
“Katelyn?” I ask her, disbelieving my eyes. “What are you doing here?”
She laughs slightly at my reaction.
She looks great. Time has definitely be kind to Katelyn Price. Her dress is tight and the heels make her look taller than I know she really is. She cut her hair, but it’s still long enough to come to her shoulder blades.
“I heard you were in an accident,” she answers.
“But, Ari and Quentin told me they hadn’t told you yet.” She looks both confused and amused at the same time.
“You know I have friends here as well, right?” I admit to myself that I hadn’t thought of that. The accident has been all over the papers and news for days afterward, our names included.
Comas in this town call for big news.
“Okay, I get that, but why are you here?” I point at the ground to indicate I mean the exact spot we’re in now.
“Well, I stopped by your house to see how you were doing and Jenn told me you were here,” she explains. I suddenly come to my senses and realize that I’m grilling her for no reason. I’m glad to see her. Despite how we ended, I’m glad she’s here for support.
I hope that’s the only reason she’s here.
“I’m so sorry about Sam, Alan, how are you holding up?” She stares at my eye patch but makes no move to touch it.
“As well as can be expected.” I adjust my patch a little since I’m still getting used to it. “It’s hard not being able to drive or play soccer, but I’m trying not to think too much abou—”
“Hey, Jackass!” a loud, slurred voice interrupts me from the bar behind Katelyn. I, surprisingly, recognize it almost instantly. It’s the drunk and his friends, four strong.
Great, just what I need now.
I have no back up. I know Ethan is on his way from somewhere around here, but Quentin and Arianna are already in their car and leaving — I think. I grab Kate’s wrist and pull her behind me, if I’m going to get my ass handed to me then I’m going to at least make sure it’s for a good reason. I can already see their leers rake across her body.
“What do you want now?” I ask them in the most bored voice I can muster. This apparently agitates them.
“You got us kicked out of the bar!” the drunk shouts and I barely understand him.
“Sorry to hear that,” I say sarcastically, “how do you figure I did that?”
“That bitch behind you kicked me in the balls and the bouncers say we were causing a scene? That’s bull!” He’s so drunk he can’t even tell the difference between Arianna and Katelyn. Plus, he called her a bitch — mistaken identity or not — that makes me start to see red. This guy has been pushing my buttons since the dance floor and he continues to do so here in the parking lot.
“Still not seeing how this is our problem,” I raise my eyebrow in curiosity.
“That bitch owes us a little time together,” he conjectures. My vision goes a little redder with the second bitch.
I can feel the ball in my chest start to transform into a chained beast.
“I don’t think that’ll be happening in this lifetime.” That seems to piss them off. I don’t care – they’re all pissing me off.
“Never a dull moment around you is there Mr. Green,” Kate jokes behind me. I turn slightly to smile at her and realize – at the last moment – that was a mistake. The drunk rushes forward and takes a swing at me. He manages to connect with my cheek on my blind side, but the alcohol in his system saps the strength of the blow. I shake my head to remove the pain and Katelyn gasps.
The drunk recovers quicker than expected and comes at me again. I’m ready this time and, instinctively, dodge the blow. I only grasp how much of a bad idea that is when I notice out the corner of my eye that Katelyn is right behind me. She moved to help me after I got hit and I didn’t think about that when I dodged.
The drunk’s fist smashes into her face and she collapses to the ground.
My vision goes white.
I have to hold myself back, my body rebelling against my brain. The pain from holding a rabid beast by a leash is immense and I can feel my muscles flexing, straining against my minds control. My teeth are starting to hurt from clenching them together for so long and hard. My brain is screaming at my arms and legs to stay where they are, but they are straining against the restraints.
My blood demands it.
My muscles need it.
My mind controls it.
I feel myself start to tear in two.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Present Day
My mind races and I’m being pulled in several different directions at once. On one side, my body wants – needs – to be let loose. On the other, my mind is holding back, but only to torture me with memories I have long forgotten or repressed. The feeling of helplessness about the accident and hospital with Sam in her bed, feeling the rage because of the courtroom and verdict for Stanton, shame and anger at the guy in eighth grade who wouldn’t leave Sam alone, anxiety about the time my parents tried to separate us, jealousy and irritation from all the guys that flirt with Sam when I’m right next to her. My entire life’s memories flood my mind pulling me into the past.
I feel every emotion like it’s fresh.
This drunk has now become the cause for everything that has ever happened to me in my life.
Pain surges through my body invading every sense and thought as my blood boils uncontrollably. Emotions, and pain, fuel my already unrestrainable rage. The effort to hold myself back is exhausting and my fleeting hold on sanity shatters. The results of the accident and hospital stay
scream their frantic warning at me even as the rage starts to take over. Anger mixes with injury, each sustaining the other growing ever more uncontainable.
The leash snaps and my body acts on its own, smashing my fist into the drunk’s face. He crumbles to the ground with a loud grunt of expelled air. Vicoden numbed pain shoots through my arm and spreads throughout my body from the impact. The automatic reaction didn’t give me time to think about which hand I was going to use to punch him with. The pins and rods in my arm ache as the Vicoden does what it’s best at.
The initial hit releases some of the anger I’ve been holding in for so long and it feels great to feel it fly away. The act is therapeutic in its own way and my body craves more of it. I can feel the anger evaporate off my body and I shiver with the sensation.
The memories and old hurts I’ve been reliving makes me rage more and more and the violent physical release is enticing. Invisible restraints vanish as my mind relinquishes control and retreats to a corner, allowing me my therapy.
The beast is free and unchecked.
Two of his buddies shake off their initial shock and pull the raging monster that is me off of him before it starts pummeling him.
The beast rages against their restraints as they hold it against the car. The drunk’s third friend walks up and punches the monster in the gut causing it to cough for breath. The friends loosen their grips, but don’t let go as it coughs.
More fuel for the rage. Everything becomes fuel for the rage.
The creature recovers, growls loudly at its inability to move and starts to fight against the grips of those holding it. Straining already strained muscles, the monster struggles to break one of the holds. It cares nothing for the pain it’s creating in its own body as it applies more strength into getting lose.
“Whoa, man, you’re going to break something.” The creature roars loudly as the pain from struggling starts to invade its consciousness. The gut check friend goes in for another punch while he still has a chance, but the beast is ready for him this time. It flexes its stomach muscles so it only barely feels the punch and head butts the guy when he gets close. The friend goes down with a shower of blood from his nose and a string of curses from behind his hands.
