What Now?

Not Yours to Take

It was an exceptionally nice day outside and the plan was for me to go over Katie's for a sleepover. We held hands as we sprang up and down, while rattling off all of the fun things we wanted to do. I hadn't been to her house yet, so I had no clue what to expect, and I didn't really care. I just wanted to spend time with my best friend. My only friend.

Until I met him...

While we waited for Katie's mom to pick us up, a small group of teenage boys gathered around. Katie's brother, John, was tall and a little bulky, while his best friend, Stuart, was lanky and acne prone. They glared at us with distaste, before John got the attention of his sister. "So, this is the little shit you convinced mom to let come over?"

"Don't be such an asshole!" She shot back, but he and his friends began to close in.

"What's your name?" He asked me. Something felt wrong. It took me a second to work up the courage to respond.

"Be-Becca," I stuttered out.

"Well Becca," he said, his voice filled with ill-intent. "I hear you have a hard time with some of your classmates. You get picked on a lot, right?"

My attention immediately darted to Katie, who looked mortified. Did she tell him about me? What else does he know? Before Katie could jump in, I responded. "I guess a bit, but I'm okay."

He looked me up and down. There was a look in his eyes that I'd never seen from anyone before. It terrified me. Suddenly, one of his friends came behind me and knocked me to the ground. The group of boys laughed as Katie screamed out for them to leave me alone.

I pulled myself up, ignoring the scrapes on my hands from trying to catch myself. "I'm sure you don't want more trouble. I can keep you safe, you know. Keep people from hurting you. Walking all over you," he said, looking up to the teen hovering behind me. I was knocked on the ground again. This time, much harder.

"But that doesn't come free," John sneered.

"What do you want?" I whimpered, as Stuart held Katie back. He paused for a moment before leaning in next to my ear. His hot breath against my skin made my stomach churn with disgust.

Even with my frantic protests and struggling, I was pulled behind the school. Several teenage boys watched in amusement as John demanded I pull my shirt up. "No!" I cried, but I was scared.

Disgusted, I hesitantly lifted my shirt with trembling fingers. I looked off to the left, trying to mentally escape what was happening to me. Jolted back to reality by a firm growl, John demanded I remove my bra, too.

I don't know how many people saw or touched me that day. I don't really want to know.