comfort {complete}

01

I tuck my legs up against my chest, watching my sister cuddle with her boyfriend on our couch. She's asleep, and he's just playing with her hair while he watches Parks and Recreation out of the corner of his eye. Their legs are tangled together, with one of his hands on her back, resting safely over her shirt, and the other in her hair.

He keeps glancing at me and smiling, worry barely masked behind his pearly whites. He's concerned for me, they're both concerned for me, but he hides it much better than Katherine. She gives me actual concerned looks, not broad smiles. And then she watches my face to see how I react.

She and my mother think my brain has blocked out what happened to me, they think I've forgotten. They think that when I look at my legs, I don't see him prying them open and sliding between them. They think I look at my arms and see my arms, but all I see are his hands on me, the bruises he left on me. He said he wanted to leave me sore for days, said that he never wanted me to forget that he was my first—he succeeded. I'm not sore anymore, but all I see when I close my eyes are his, and not in the romantic way.

His eyes were dark and terrible, filled with this sick pleasure and smugness at the contortion of my face as he filled me. When I close my eyes, I want to forget, not see it all again like some sick movie.

But all I see is him.

All the time.

And it hurts.

a/n: i hope no one i know reads this because awkward. and i hope i can pull this off. ahhh. thank you for reading. steph in the description.