He grabbed my wrist and dragged me behind him. I could only keep my head down in hopes he would let go. He whispered "Wait for me behind the bookshelf" and released my hand. I hurried, feeling my heart race in fear. Only the words "what have I done now" echo throughout my brain. I see him approach me with a stone cold face before he asks me,
"Who is he"
I stand there, staring at the ground. How does he know already? No one knows about it.
I shakingly reply with "He who?" He grabs my arm and pulls me close. His grip is hurting me.
"The guy you're talking to. I know you are. You can't hide anything from me."
I feel myself shaking, trying to pull from his grip. "I'm not talking to anyone." I'm lying and he knows it. I can't tell him. I can't reveal who he is and risk losing contact.
"You liar" are his only words before he forces his lips on mine. I try to push him away, but his grip stays firm as he tries to mark my neck. I finally push hard enough before he marks me. He tries again, but the bell rings. He smirks and walks around the corner. Leaving me with a disgusting feeling on my lips and neck. I feel unclean and violated. I sit on the ground and try my hardest not to cry before my next class.
