rain. |h.s|

16

tw//rape

I gasp quietly, trying to get my hands off of my stomach. But in that moment I realize my hands and legs are tightly wrapped in super stick duct tape. I look back into his devilish eyes and open my mouth to say something, but I can't force anything out.

I can't fucking believe this. I'm about to get raped. And it's entirely my fault.

"You're safe with me. It'll all be over soon." He practically laughs as he says that. Like this is a joke. That this is for the enjoyment of us both.

The worst part is that his words were so false. This is not going to be over soon. The next hour or so of my life is going to be absolute torture. I just want someone to come bursting through that door. My mom, George, Harlow, anyone. Literally anyone. I just can't bare the thought that only my second time is going to be wasted like this. I would have it any other way. Just not like this.

He inches closer to me. From the edge of the bed, he's gotten as far as my stomach. He gives me the most disgusting look. I want to puke at the sight of this. What position he's got me in. He forces himself forward as mushes our lips together. The only difference is, that he's the only one putting in any effort. My lips stay still, almost attempting to hide inside my mouth until he stops.

My ears ring as I sit up in bed. Flashbacks. That's the second night in a row. My flashbacks of that night with Alex have escalated from not being able to close my eyes to not being able to sleep without having a vision of him. Just his figure appears at the edge of my bed sometimes and I don't know what to do. Thank God mine and Harry's rooms are far enough apart to where I don't wake him up. He would probably say something about how I'm being dumb and it's not that serious.

But it is. I don't feel clean. Ever. The day Harlow and I went to get groceries is the night this started. Which was four days ago. For four nights I've had these awful flashbacks. I've been counting days like a prisoner since he did that to me. 11 days. He assaulted me 11 days ago. It's June 22nd. I've also been thinking about how many days I haven't seen my mom. 20 days. I can't do this anymore. My head is constantly thinking about ten different things. All of which I want my mom to tell me it'll be okay. I don't have a choice. I have to move on. With a snap of a finger, everything in my life has collapsed.

I've showered twelve times in these past four days. That means three times a day. Harry complains about me hogging the shower for so long, but I can't even begin to explain to him. The showers have helped. It's like a cleanse. I feel restored for a handful of hours and then I just do it all over again. That shower is the only place where I feel fully clean. Where I don't feel like I have a pair of grabby hands all over me. Even if he only touched my stomach and barely in between my legs, it feels like he's left an ident on every body part I have.

"Is it that difficult to get one good night's sleep?" My hands uncover my eyes to reveal Harry's figure standing in the door frame. For some reason his words make me want to cry. I want to scream at him sometimes. 

Yes Harry it is hard getting a good night's sleep.

Before I say anything, he speaks before me, "I've noticed that you haven't slept past 4:30 any of these nights. Is something wrong with your room?"

"No, the room is fine." My fingers go to throw the hair in my face backwards.

"Then what is it? Because your fumbling around in the kitchen at 5 in the morning is disturbing my beauty sleep," The bed dips when he takes a seat at the edge of it.

I sigh, "It's nothing okay? I've just been having a hard time adjusting."

"We've been here for six nights Noelle." He almost looks concerned. His brown curls frame his face as he stares at me, waiting for a response.