Travels

Temper

****authors note*****

Hey guys, just giving ya'll a warning: there's a little, well....raunchiness in here. Now, don't worry, it's only about 1 short paragraph, and it's only included because it adds a bit of detail and deeper reasoning into Zoe's actions and thinking, but if you aren't comfortable with it then by all means skip the paragraph. Please don't skip the chapter though- I'm really excited about this work! :) Also, I want to give a big hand to wattpad user @makemydreamsreal. She did an excellent job and is the reason Travels has a cover. She really deserved the dedication. :) Thanks, and please read! **************

Whoop de doo. I've done it again. I could feel his warmth around me, legs wrapped around my own, see his hand curled around my waist, the smell of alcohol on his breath. The alarm clock read 5:37 AM. A trickle of light had leaked out of the sun and spilled out onto the darkness of the night, casting a faint glow in the musty bedroom. I was safe here, long gone from the nightmare that teared apart my dreams last night. It was horrible, dark, with my brother shouting in his little boy voice, screaming, but I couldn't save him...

I lied like that for a while, not thinking, or contemplating, or even what the hell I was going to eat for breakfast today. I liked the feeling of not being, just being at peace with the world. I knew it wouldn't last for long; it never did. So in these precious few moments, I try to savor whatever I can. 

At long last I felt a rustle from behind. John had risen. I tried to push down the icky, black spiderweb that spread a nasty feeling throughout me down, as John murmured and placed his hands on my breasts. "Come here," he muttered, and pulled me closer. I closed my eyes and prayed that today wasn't going to be one of those days. His lips brushed against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. No. Please no. His kisses grew wilder, feverent, and he clawed at my breasts. Lord no, please no. "Stop," I said almost silently, gently pushing away his hands, but he persisted. Don't....please don't...."NO." I yelled. The annoying rubbing stopped. Was he going to stop? 

Suddenly he pushed me down on my back with a ferocity I had never seen or felt before. Now looking straight up into his vivid eyes, a jolt of panic coursed through my veins. "I'll go to hell before you tell ME to stop," He roared, and straddled me. This was bad, bad this needed to stop-

But who cared? No one came to the rescue, ever. No matter how many times I screamed, no matter how many times I cried myself to sleep-

An amazing sensation brought me to life. He had penetrated me. He wouldn't dare. 

But he did. He had never done that before. And it was going faster, stronger-

My back arched and in pain and ecstasy I cried, and I keep on crying even when it stopped, for the hopelessness and guilt that crushed me like a boulder. 

                          ~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~

I was in a trance the whole day. My body had seemed to go completely numb. I'm sure I looked pretty glassy eyed, or dazed, like I'd been hit by a truck. It sure felt like it. Even Stephanie questioned me at work. She wouldn't let it go- why didn't she see I didn't want to talk to anyone right now? 

"Sweetie, you better tell me what's wrong or I'm gonna beat the answer outta ya," She grinned and winked. It wasn't funny. She stared at me for a moment, then quitely sipped her tea. The sunlight streamed through the glass window that was plastered with the words Bert's Coffee. Even though the city street outside pulsed with the energy of walking passerby and the hum of cars, Bert's Coffee contained an air of mustiness, shabbiness, and distaste.  

"What's up with that bruise alongside ya forehead? Nasty thing." I instinctively felt my temple and winced at the sudden thud of pain. "Oh, um, banged my head." I said quickly. She looked at me skeptically for a moment. You've been real quiet, ya know that?" Stephanie voiced, fiddling with the buttons on her snug polo. Probably from a thrift store. Try all she might to appear the opposite, Stephanie had about as much money as I did. I eyed her red lips, bleached hair, and bedroom eyes. I often called her Marilyn Monroe, because she actually had an uncanny resemblance to the famous actress. "Yeah, I have been." I replied, stirring my cream into my coffee and creating a milky swirl.