My first crush (COMPLETED)√

Chapter 38: The escape

He yanked my shirt over my head, tossing it aside, followed by my bra. I forced myself to keep smiling, to keep playing along. My lips met his again while I slipped my pants down to my ankles, letting them fall to the floor. Every movement felt calculated, rehearsed — survival disguised as surrender.

He pushed me back onto the bed, looming over me, ready to take what he thought he owned. My breath hitched as he kissed along my neck, his mouth returning hungrily to mine.

No. No — this isn't Sharon. This isn't what happened.
Let's go back to the truth.

⸻

After pulling off my shirt, he turned toward the door, reaching to lock it. Panic surged through me. If that lock clicked, I'd lose my only chance.

"Do you have a rubber?" I asked, forcing my voice to sound casual.

He barely glanced at me. "No. I don't use."

My stomach twisted.
What?!

"Oh... yeah," I laughed weakly, masking my fear. "What's the point, right? No fun otherwise."

"Yeah." His hand was still on the lock.

Gosh... what kind of man is he?

I stepped closer, sliding my arms around him, kissing him before he could finish. I tugged him back toward the bed, guiding him down.

"Aren't you the devil," he murmured with a crooked grin, stretching out.

"My turn," I whispered.

My hands moved to his zipper. I pulled his trousers down, ignoring the revulsion clawing at my throat. He chuckled, completely at ease, completely fooled.

"Who would believe this?" he said, clearly delighted by what he thought was my submission.

"I'm about to give you something bad," I murmured.

Before he could react, I seized the moment — binding his wrists and ankles to the bedframe with quick, decisive knots.

His smile vanished too late.

I drove my fist into his face. Once. Hard. Pain shot through my knuckles, but adrenaline drowned it out. I thought about kicking him again — somewhere worse — but time mattered more than revenge. I grabbed tape, sealed his mouth shut, snatched my clothes, and rushed for the door.

I flung it open and ran — only to freeze.

His gang sprawled across the living room. Bodies slumped on couches and chairs, snores rumbling through the air. Asleep.

Run.

I slipped past them, heart pounding so loudly I feared it would wake them. Just as I reached the exit—

"Hey, stop."

I turned. One of them stood there, grocery bag dangling from his hand.

"Uh..." My mind raced, blank and frantic all at once.

"Who are you? Why're you coming out of our house?"

He didn't even recognize me.

"Gotta go."

I bolted.

Branches clawed at me as I dove into a nearby bush, hastily pulling my clothes back on with trembling hands. Dirt smeared my skin, leaves tangled in my hair — I didn't care. I stumbled out toward the road, desperate to find a bus. To go home. My real home.

"Hey!"

An old woman's sharp voice cut through my haze.

"Do you have to announce to the world you just had sex? You teenagers these days!" She stamped her foot in irritation.

My breath caught. I looked down.

My zipper was open.

Heat flooded my face as realization struck — the stares, the whispers. I quickly fixed it, swallowing humiliation along with the lingering terror still lodged in my chest.

But I kept walking.
Because I was free.

And I wasn't stopping now.