"What the actual fuck, are you crazy?"
It came out louder than I had expected it to, I felt everyone's eyes burning into the sides of my face as they wondered what the hell was going on. I hear a few comments made from the people around, some along the lines of "she's probably just drunk."
The sly smirk on his face told me he was willing to put up with my fight. Which is what led me to the assumption that he thought it was okay to try to grip my forearm, to try and touch me again. I tried to loosen the grip, to pry his fingers away from my skin. He only became more aggressive. He leaned into my ear, whispering again.
"Don't make a scene. You want this."
I felt my face getting hot, with embarrassment and with anger. I can see, out of the corner of my eye, that everyone has turned away. Nobody pays attention, too involved with their good time.
"Fuck you. You're drunk. Let. Go."
My teeth were grinding against each other. My boots crunched over the broken, wet glass on the floor. Pushed into one of the corners of the room, the music had started back up and I don't think anybody realized. They all probably thought I was this guy's drunk, ditsy girlfriend who had one too many. That he was trying to gain control. Everyone's back was turned. Everyone but a few individuals.
I tried to look into his eyes, thinking it would scare him away or knock him into the reality of what he was doing. I was surprised to see that he looked back into mine. His eyes, they seemed as if they had gone dark, blackened from sick desire. But this only added fuel to the fire. He wanted what he wanted, the hardening grip assuring that fact. My fear is causing me to spiral, my palms are becoming sweaty. The cold, painted wall behind me connected with the bare skin of my back, the top I was wearing was fucking useless when it came down to not being so revealing. Where is Jane?
He kept pushing my hair aside, his wet lips grazing over my neck. I kept my hands on his chest, attempting to push him off only to be met with him forcing himself closer to me.
"Please get away from me. Get away from me."
My voice sounded hoarse, like I hadn't spoken in decades. Rusty and broken.
"Don't. Don't be so dramatic."
His sounded confident. Thick and smooth with scum.
"Hey, dickhead. What do you think you're doing?"
And suddenly, a softer sound.
Blue's voice. I feel a hand being placed onto my shoulder, down to my arm, the softest touch I have felt all night. I look back up to watch Chad's eyes move from me to Blue as I was pulled out of the corner. A filthy, white smile appeared on Chad's face, a facade.
I feel Chad's fingers soften, his hand leaving my arm. He takes a swig of his drink as he lets go, stepping in front of this beautiful stranger. Looking him up and down. I walked behind Blue, guarding myself.
"What does it look like? She knows me. She does. She's mine tonight. Let's go Ang-"
Chad walks closer to where I was, trying to lure me back in forcefully. Blue cuts him off, steps in front of him.
"I don't think she is "yours." Are you okay?"
I couldn't move. I couldn't nod, I'd be lying. I couldn't speak, I was afraid. I only looked. It was reassuring to see him look at me, it felt like I had just been given water after being starved for weeks. The pressure had released.
"Let's get you out of here, away from this dick."
I followed him. I felt okay.
