The perfect storm in a quiet room

Chapter 41

HANNAH

We keep kissing each other, our pace slow and gentle. I know we've been kissing for a while now, but it's hard to know for how long exactly as I've completely lost track of time.

Now the rhythm is no longer gentle, but faster and wilder. My hunger for her grows and I hope hers does too. She immediately makes it clear to me that she's hungry for me, when she drops down on the bed, still with her lips pressed to mine, and pulls me to her, my body on top of hers.

I open my eyes, our mouths still pressed together, but I'm no longer focused on the kiss, instead I'm preoccupied. What will happen now? Are we going to... do it? Like... now? Right now? I don't know if that's a great idea... we still have things to work out and I've never... done it with anyone before. I don't know if I'm ready for this. I don't know if it's what I want right now. Besides, I don't know how it works... between... two... girls... Yeah, it's embarrassing, I know, but the only thing theachers explained to me at school during sex ed was how traditional sex works, you know, girl and boy, penis and vagina. That's it. They never talked about sex between people of the same gender, and that reveals the lack of diversity in schools, even nowadays, in the 21st century.

Anyway, the point is that I know nothing. And I also don't want to make a fool of myself and make my first experience a forgettable memory instead of an unforgettable one. I'm not ready for this, it's not what I want... However, I seem unable to stop her, as for some reason my lips continue to move along with hers and my tongue keeps caressing hers, at the same time my hands run up and down her back.

What's wrong with me?

"Hannah," she moans my name and I startle. I immediately give myself a mental slap, because that's supposed to turn me on, not scare me. Idiot.

I look at her quizzical and confused, not knowing what the fuck to say, since I've never been in a situation like this before. What do I have to do exactly?

Luckily her eyes are closed, so she can't see my face. I let out a sigh of relief and take a moment to think about my next move. What do I do now? Do I want this to go on or do I want this to end? Someone please tell me what to do.

I decide my next move will be to touch her legs and play with the button of her jeans.

I stroke her delicate legs over the fabric and then stop when I find the button and try to undo it. But at that moment her shirt lifts up a little and... there's a purple mark with red dots covering the pale skin of her abdomen. I immediately stop and get up from the bed, covering my mouth with one hand and keeping my eyes wide open, terrified by what I've just seen...

"What's wrong?" Asks Casy, opening his eyes and sitting up in bed.

"Em..."

She studies my expression for a moment and then notices that her shirt is still a little raised. She immediately pulls it down and her face hardens and her expression changes to seriousness. She knows what's wrong.

"What you saw is—"

"I know what it is," I reply, interrupting her.

"Hannah..."

"No, stop it Casy," I say, the first tears of the day streaming down my cheeks. "I can't believe what I saw. I can't believe this is happening to you. Casy, why is he doing this to you? Why do you have to suffer like this? It hurts me so much that you're going through this, don't—"

"Oh, I'm sorry! Does it hurt you? And what about me? Don't you think it hurts me? Don't you think it destroys me every time he touches me with his filthy hands? Don't you think I hate being in this situation? Do you think I like getting beaten up by an asshole like him? Do you think I do it for fun? Do you think I didn't cry this morning when I saw myself naked in the mirror? Do you think I don't suffer every time I see him? Obviously I do, Hannah! Don't you understand that this is destroying me?" She pauses for a moment and then carries on with her speech. "But you would never understand why I do it. And I'm not going to tell you either, because it's something only he and I know and I intend to keep it that way," she says, raising her already angry voice.

She gets up from the bed and walks to the door. She grits her teeth and squints her eyes, which makes her look a bit... creepy. "It was a mistake to come here. I shouldn't have agreed to see you. And what happened... I hope you won't tell anyone, okay? No one can know about the kiss and that you're supposedly in love with me. No one, ever! This was a mistake that won't happen again and I don't want to make a big deal out of it because it doesn't matter. I appreciate your feelings for me, but I'm not in love with you, and I never will, so I think it's best if you forget me." The tone with which she pronounces the words is so hard and sharp that I find it hard to believe that this is the same sweet girl I met on the first day of school.

She opens the door and just as she's about to leave, she turns around and adds: "Oh, and if you say anything... you will pay for it. You don't know me Hannah, you don't know what I'm capable of."

She walks out of the room and leaves me alone again, in the middle of this fucking room, hurt, broken and sadder than ever.

I plop down on the bed, tears starting to well up in my eyes, while I replay the words that came out of her mouth only moments ago. Each word is like a knife piercing my heart and destroying the already shattered pieces.

I remember when she slept over at my house and I thought of me as a broken-scotch-taped crystal vase, which is very hard to take care of, because, one mistake and the vase would break immediately, so it would be necessary to scotch-tape all the pieces together again. At the time that metaphor described my feelings, and still does, but now the crystal vase is completely broken and I'm afraid there's nothing that can fix it.