by Joy Eileen
“They're amazing,” Jessie whispered in my ear. She had a sad smile on her face. Her eyes plastered on Van even as she spoke. Her face was in awe as she watched Van execute a drum solo. Amy watched Jet in the same manner Jessie was watching Van.
My eyes sought Kill. He was holding the microphone with his eyes closed, lost in the emotion of the song. When he reached the crescendo of the verse, his eyes locked on mine as he sang about finding someone who helped piece together the broken fragments of a soul.
The song ended, and we continued our stare down until Van started the intro to the next song. Kill broke the eye contact first, yelling at Jet to stop air humping, causing Amy to giggle. Jet looked over at her and winked, causing another fit of giggles to burst out from her.
I rolled my eyes at their antics, happy my friend had found someone who matched her boundless energy. We listened to them go over a couple new songs, stopping every so often to tweak something here or there until it was seamless.
After a while, Jet pretended to swoon by putting the back of his hand on his forehead, dramatically falling to the ground. “I can’t do it anymore,” he said in an exaggerated southern accent.
Van and D smiled at him still positioned on the ground, his guitar resting on his chest.
Amy scrambled to him throwing herself on her knees, glaring at Kill. “If you exhausted his energy, and he's too tired to get me off tonight, I promise retribution will be served, and you will not like it.”
Jet grabbed Amy by the back of the neck, kissing her until she moaned. “Don’t worry, Candy, if I'm too tired, you can ride me. I'll get you off one way or another.”
“Practice is over,” D exclaimed, blushing deep burgundy, and exiting the garage quickly.
Jessie let out a squeal and ran to Van as he maneuvered from behind his drums. She jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around him and kissing him deeply.
They walked out of the garage, not saying a word, which was impossible with his tongue down her throat. I looked down at Jet and Amy just in time to see Jet’s hand working on unsnapping Amy’s bra.
Kill's eyes burned with lust as he stared at me, causing my mouth to go dry while my vagina started a strip tease.
I needed to put up barriers with him soon before I did something I would regret, or at least my brain and heart would. The hooker now living in my vagina was begging me to get down and dirty with Kill.
Amy let out a loud moan, and I heard a zipper slide down, breaking the mesmerizing stare. I hurried out of the garage with Kill behind me, both of us wanting to get out before witnessing anymore.
Kill went upstairs and I was left alone, not wanting to go to my room, afraid of what I would hear from Van’s room. Knowing what one friend sounded like when they were about to have sex met my quota for the day.
In the kitchen I plunged myself into cooking, hoping it would keep me busy. I contemplated going upstairs to get my iPod so I could get my cooking music on, but remembering Amy’s moans, I quickly rejected the idea. Unfortunately, cooking didn’t seem to need as much concentration as I thought it would, so my mind drifted to Kill.
It was obvious he wanted me, and I couldn’t deny I wanted him just as bad, if not more. I also knew he wasn't a one-woman-man, and I wasn't the type of girl to have sex and not have feelings involved, especially if I was going to be living with him for the next year.
Kill was freaking hot, and I worried I was letting his looks muddle my morals. Although, if I was being honest with myself, which I'd been trying to do lately, it wasn’t just his looks that had me hooked.
He had a sweet, vulnerable side to him he kept hidden. It was because of that side, I needed to avoid him. I already determined he would break my heart if I didn't stay away. The moment I saw him I felt an instant attraction, and the more I was around him the more secure I felt.
I need to explain to him we were only going to be friends, and I didn’t want anything more. Panic coursed through me at the thought of him not accepting my friend stipulations.
In the few days I had known him, he had cemented himself in my heart, and I didn’t want to lose his friendship. I wasn’t sure why I felt I could trust him as much as I did, but I couldn’t deny the soothing affect he had on me.
He didn’t treat me like something fragile. He treated me like a regular person, and I felt less broken when he was near.
The chicken finished, and I moved it to the back burner while I methodically grated a block of cheese, still thinking of my predicament.
Without looking over my shoulder, I knew Kill had walked in. He carried an electrical current that had a direct link to my nervous system.
His hair was wet and pushed back off his face. He was wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans; his feet were bare, and he was mouthwatering.
I debated tossing out my whole let’s-be-friends idea, but reminded myself how he could crush me if I let him. I would survive Jason; I wasn’t so sure I would survive Kill.
“Need any help?” he asked.
I pushed the cheese grater and the bowl over to him. Kill helped me assemble the enchiladas. Our hands brushed together, sending licking flames through me at each minute contact.
Once the food was in the oven, I finally made eye contact.
“Got something on your mind, Slick?” Amusement was evident in his voice. His eyes were full of challenge, and I figured this was as good a time as any to set the boundaries.
“I can’t sleep with you,” I blurted out, face palming my forehead. “I mean, I'm not the type of girl that just sleeps with a guy.”
This was coming out all wrong. Kill took my hand off of my face and lifted my chin with his index finger. “What the hell's going on in that brain of yours?”
He was trying to stop from smiling, but failed miserably.
“Never mind, I'm going to go crawl under a rock.”
He tightened his hold. “Where's this coming from? You can tell me. We’re friends, right?”
“Well, that’s the thing. Even though I've only known you for a couple of days, I feel like we've become friends. I don’t want to ruin it by giving into my attraction. I don’t think I could take losing any more friends. They seem to be dropping like flies lately.”
“Alright, Slick, I won’t let you get into my pants, even when you're begging for it.”
I punched him in the arm, amazed he could make me feel so normal. “I'll do my best to keep my begging to a minimum, Killer.”
He tried to hug me, but I pulled back.
“I don’t think it’s fair to let you keep touching me. I don’t want you to think I'm a tease,” I admitted.
“Since you won't let me get you naked, I'll settle for a casual feel up. Come here, friend.”
It wasn’t fair to Kill, but I couldn’t resist the comfort he gave me and as weak as it sounded, I wasn’t going to push him away.
“Now with that over, what else do we need to do to finish dinner for these heathens we live with?”
And just like that, some of my reservations disappeared, and I knew it was the right thing to keep him away from my vagina, because with him, it would have a direct line to my heart.
I put the food on the living room table when Kill, D, Van, and Jessie walked downstairs.
“Where’s Amy and Jet?” I asked, craning my neck to see if they were behind everyone.
Kill smiled and nodded his head to the garage door. My eyes widened as he went and banged on it.
“Hold the fuck on.” Jet’s screams were muffled, and I couldn’t help but laugh with everyone.
“Dinner’s ready,” Kill said to the door.
Seconds later, Jet came out, his hair was in disarray and missing a shirt. His chest was now sporting fresh scratches. Amy looked similar to Jet, except she had all of her clothes on. Jet grabbed Amy’s hand and led her toward the food. Kill put his arm over my shoulder, and we walked to the living room with everyone.
We watched National Lampoon’s European Vacation, laughing as we rec
ited the lines verbatim. After dinner was cleaned up, we were sprawled out, full and sleepy. Van put on Christmas Vacation.
My abs were sore from laughing. Jet and Amy were kicked out in the middle of the movie when they started moaning. Jessie fell asleep on Van, and he carried her upstairs. D left later when he got a text with a lead on the Tryptophan Torture Fest.
Kill patted the seat next to him. “Come over here, friend.”
I wasted no time, crawling over to him and curling up into his side. Whenever he laughed, the fire caused by Kill, and Kill only, turned up a notch.
By the time the credits rolled, I was focused on not breaking our friend pact. It was fucked up to push him away and pull him closer at the same time, but I couldn't help it.
I ran my hand across his stomach, stroking his heated skin through the fabric of his shirt, trying to push my unfair treatment to the back of my mind.
“Ready for bed, Slick?” he questioned, stilling my hand. His tone was pure sex, and it caused my lower muscles to clench, wanting to take his question in a very non-friendly manner. If I opened my mouth, I would give him a naughty version of my answer, so I stuck with the nod.
My vagina kept flipping me off, wanting me to do more than nod. We stayed together until the movie returned to the main menu. He turned everything off, and we sat there in silence, not ready to part ways.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he said when I nodded off.
I wasn’t ready to end the night, even though I was fighting a losing battle against sleep. He put his arm around me, and I snuggled into his side. As he led me upstairs, I saw most of the clothes I had folded were gone.
“I need to get the clothes out of the dryer.” I moved out from under his arm, but he held me tightly.
“Get it tomorrow. We'll just turn it on again to get the wrinkles out. Old rock band secret.”
I smiled, pushing my nose into his side, breathing him in. When we reached my room I moved out from under him, wanting nothing more than to pull him into my bedroom and use him as my own personal pillow.
He chuckled at my pouting face and leaned down, kissing my forehead before going to his room. Before he closed the door, he glanced back at me still standing where he left me. “Night, friend. I'll see you later.”
He winked and closed his door. After convincing myself running into his room and stripping both of us naked was a bad idea I went into my room.
When changing into my jammies, I noticed a brownie on my pillow wrapped in colored cellophane. A note was folded underneath it.
Slick,
Bite this instead of biting
our heads off from your
impending visit from Flo-ida.
Killer
I put the brownie on my dresser and once again I had to persuade my vagina that I should not go and play naked Slip-N-Slide with Kill.
He was my friend and nothing more, I lied to myself, as I put everything on their chargers and slipped in my ear buds.
My thoughts wandered back to Kill, as usual. I wondered if he was as sexually frustrated as I was. I felt a twinge of guilt, and hoped not, for a second.
My breath finally evened out, and I fell asleep to Slip Knot serenading me. I woke up hours later with searing pain scorching through me, alerting me Aunt Flo had arrived.
Chapter 10
From the time I first got my period in seventh grade I've had horrible cramps. When it got bad enough I was vomiting and blacking out, my dad took me to the doctor.
The doctor prescribed me birth control pills. My dad refused to put his seventh grader on them. He dragged me to herbalists and every other natural doctor in the area. By the summer of my freshman year, he relented and filled the prescription.
I'd been taking them consistently since I got my first pack. They seemed to help, not alleviating the pain, but I was able to make it through my day without throwing up everywhere.
Jason was more habitual about me taking my pills than I was. He would watch me and make me lift my tongue to verify I had swallowed it. Although we were exclusive, Jason would insist on wearing a condom. Even during his down-swings, he never forgot to put one on.
When we would have sex during his up-swings before he would come, he would make me promise I wouldn’t get pregnant. Even with my assurance, he would pull out and finish in the condom.
Anytime I was out longer than expected, he accused me of cheating. The only cure Jason could think of to get rid of unwanted offspring from his cheating whore of a girlfriend was to punch me in the stomach, making sure nothing viable would survive.
After a couple of times of being in this predicament, I avoided leaving the apartment. My periods became progressively worse, and Jason used a punch in the lower abdomen as punishment for many other occurrences of disobedience.
One month, my flow was exceedingly heavy, and my uterus felt like it was trying to escape my body Alien style. I made an appointment and went to my OB/GYN when my flow lasted two weeks.
When the doctor came in, I must have been as white as the crinkly paper on the exam table. When the ultrasound technician started the initial exam, her face furrowed before she left to get the doctor. The technician pointed to the thick tissue angrily crisscrossing my uterus when they came back in.
“What is that?” she asked.
It was alarming to have a trained technician unable to identify what was in my body.
The doctor gave an apprehensive look before answering me directly. "That's scar tissue. Lots of scar tissue.”
They finished the exam, and when the technician left, the doctor pulled up a chair.
“Faith, you have a lot of scar tissue. I want you to know if there's anything you would like to tell me, I would help you.”
I swallowed the tears before taking a page out of Jason’s book and making up a new reality. “I was in really bad car accident, and the lap belt dug deep into my abdomen. Most likely that's where it came from.”
I plastered on my well-rehearsed smile. Giving me a disappointed look, she pursed her lips, trying to decide if it was worth pursuing. She must have thought I was a lost cause, because she didn't.
After writing a prescription to stop the bleeding she wanted me to make another appointment for further testing when my flow was over. I still had my smile on my face, not letting it fall until I was dressed and out of the office.
At home I explained to Jason I would be out of commission for a little while longer. He was convinced I was doing it on purpose.
That night, he grabbed me by the back of the head and forced himself in my mouth. He pounded into me with no concern for the gagging sounds coming from the back of my throat. After he spent himself in me, he kicked me in the stomach and walked away. He repeated this little performance every night until we could have sex again.
That night, he drilled into me, trying to cause as much pain as he could, pulling out at the last minute to rip off the condom and jerk himself off on my stomach, staring at me with disgust the whole time.
The next day, I went back to the doctor to get the rest of my examination done. She inserted a dildo-looking thing with a condom on it to get a better look. She frowned at the grainy black and white screen. Even I could see the scar tissue overtaking my uterus.
Her eyes begged me to tell her something, but I shut down. “Your uterus looks inflamed. Has there been any recent trauma?”
“I was walking into the bedroom with a laundry basket and it caught the door.”
She was waiting for me to break, but what she didn’t know was, if I hadn’t broken from Jason’s physical assaults, a severe look from a doctor wasn’t going to cause me to crack.
After the exam, she told me to meet her in her office. I thought about bolting, before pausing to knock on the open door.
“Faith, please shut the door and have a seat.”
When the door clicked into place, my heart rate skyrocketed. I walked over to the chair and sat up straight.
She had the audacity to open the fi
le in front of her. I wanted to scream at her. She knew damn well what was in it without having to go through it again.
“Faith, from your test results, and the ultrasound preformed today, I'm sorry but I have to tell you, your chances of conceiving a child are very slim.”
The air in my body left in an audible rush. I had never thought of children, but the knowledge I couldn’t have them was devastating. When I didn’t respond, she continued.
“I know you're young, and the thought of children is probably not even on your mind yet, but with the extensive damage you have sustained, your uterus is uninhabitable. And if by chance a viable egg attached, you wouldn’t be able to sustain a healthy pregnancy and would most likely miscarry before you reached your second term.”
I still hadn’t recovered from the initial shock, and with every new word flung out of her mouth, it felt like another punch was being thrown into my abdomen.
“I suggest you keep using your birth control for now, but I would like to put you on a higher dosage. Use the pills I prescribed when your flow becomes heavy like it has this month and contact me if it doesn’t stop after a couple of days. When you're older, we can discuss your options.”
She got up and leaned on her desk, looking at me with a mixture of pity and sadness. “Do you have any questions, or would you like to tell me anything?”
I shook my head knowing my tears weren’t going to stay back much longer. “I'm fine, thank you.”
I was shrouded in numbness. Once in my car, I turned on the heat, not wanting to idle too long. Afraid she would remember something horrible she forgot to mention and come out to tell me.
I text Jason telling him I was getting my new prescription filled, and I would bring dinner home. He text back immediately, with his order, not bothering to ask me about my doctors visit. What a gentleman.
When I pulled my car into my parking spot, I grabbed Jason’s dinner and my bag, containing a year supply of pills. I let out a bitter laugh, realizing I was a walking, talking birth control pill now. Did the pills make me a cannibal?
