The Night I Can't Forget

Chapter Two

"Love is a strong feeling of affection shared between two people or a person and an object." My English teacher talked on and on about love and the meaning behind its powers. She was a joke of a teacher, in all honesty. Love wasn't real...love was a lie we told ourselves to keep us from jumping off the deep end. Love is a fictional reality.

"Gabe? Did you prepare a poem for the entry event?" I looked up at her from my zone session and stared in silence. I completely forgot about that assignment and couldn't even make up an excuse as to why I didn't have it. She continued to stare at me, expecting me to respond. It was a long staring contest, and of course, I broke first.

"Uh... no?" Why did I say it as a question? I mentally shot myself as the people around me giggled at my stupidity. The teacher looked at me disappointed and told me to stay after class. I'm getting a low grade, but now, I've got to talk to this teacher about it. I was bound to get my ass kicked over this.

"Christian, do you have your poem?" I looked ahead, and Christian stood up, holding a crumpled piece of paper and a cocky look. All the girls swooned over his beef body and glossy hair.

"Roses are red, violets are blue, and Gabe is the biggest fag in the school." He finished with a bow, and the class erupted in laughter. The teacher rushed to quiet everyone down, and I died in my chair as Christian continued to say thank you and bow.

"Christian Andrews outside now!" The teacher yelled across the room. He rolled his eyes, looked back at me, and put his finger to his lips before walking out of the room. I put my hoodie on my head and stared intently at my desk as the chatter in the class grew louder. I should've kept my mouth shut...Well, my marker.
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"What!" I slammed my hands down on the teacher's desk as she looked me in the eyes and repeated herself.

"I said. You and Christian will be doing your play recreations together. I think it's for the best so you two can work on your problems. There is no negotiating!" She said, handing us two scripts and showing us a cheesy smile. I rolled my eyes, snatching the script, and left the room. Did I want to cry, maybe? Did I want to punch something very hard...Absolutely! As I made my way biology, something yanked me by my hood and pulled me into the janitor's closet.

I started punching in the dark and felt my fist connected with a chiseled jaw. A low groan came from my kidnapper, and I reached for my phone to turn on the flashlight. I nearly pissed myself as Owen stood before me, holding his jaw and glaring at me.

"Lucky shot fag..." He said, turning on the light and staring at me. I couldn't speak, I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe. All I could do was stare. He didn't say anything after that. We just stood in silence, and my hand shook as I held my flashlight up to him. My heart raced violently, and I could feel tears dripping down my face. He stepped forward, and I was jolted back to life. I turned and reached for the doorknob, but he slammed my chest into the door and made me drop my phone.

"I'll scream...so let me go." My voice shook as his hand pressed In between my shoulder blades. He laughed and slammed his fist into my side, and I gasped in pain. I nearly fell to the floor, but he held me up and leaned on me.

"You wanna cry rape? Go ahead...scream. Scream, and they'll come help you right now." He whispers in my ear and holds my belt buckle firmly. A painful lump grew in my throat, and I shook as he pressed his crotch into my ass. He turned me around by the arms and looked me in the eyes. His face was shadowed by the light, and I couldn't speak. I couldn't stop him.

"See...you weren't raped. You're just a faggot scared of the truth." He pushed me down to my knees by my shoulders, and I pulled back only to have him grab my hair tightly and push my face into his crotch. His rough jeans rubbed my face as his boner grew in his pants. I put my hands on his thighs and tried to push away, but his grip was too tight on my head.