Lyra:
2 AM.
I sat outside on the patio, crying. I needed fresh air.
The fruit punch was spiked. The boy spiked my drink. I remember them, dragging me into a room filled with smoke, the sound of the music getting fainter and fainter as the lock clicked. I was a prisoner of the walls, the jail-cell door locking me in, the key lost in my mind.
I remember the burning sensation when the boy lifted something up to my lips. I remember the coughing fit I experienced. I remembered how much it burned every time he forced me more, and more, and more.
And I remember his black curls, and my hands grabbing onto him, and the sound of skin, the smell of smoke and the sweaty atmosphere and-
I burst out into tears once again. I felt dirty. I felt used. I just wanted to have fun, but look how that turned out. My mind started to drift off to sleep again, but then those scarring images bombarded my mind once again. I felt bile rise up my throat, and I threw up all over the front porch.
I didn't want to be here anymore. I wanted to go home. Who was willing to take me home, though? Probably nobody. It was 2 AM and nobody had the time to take me, the little blonde eighth grader, back home.
And I cried even more on that patio, curled up on the bench until it got really cold. When it started getting cold, I got up, and started to catch the bus home... If it was still running, that is.
YOU ARE READING
Can You Hear My Scream
Teen FictionLyra: 2:25 PM. I bend down in front of the toilet and use my finger to trigger a gag reflex again. After I'm done, I take three mints, and chew some gum, and then I begin to cry. Why am I doing this again? I do know that doing this will make my teet...
