“You look beautiful”.
His breath trickles across my ear as he moves his hand down from my waist to my upper thigh. His hand traces along the confides of my inner thigh; I let out a whimper. Immediately he stops and the steady rhythm of his breathing chest against my back is interrupted.
I feel myself let out a big breath as I feel him turn away and I look round to see him slipping on his black leather jacket. “First night nerves? That’s ok, we’re going to kill it. I’m probably going to need some celebratory presents afterwards. I’ll meet you at the back of the car park.”
He shuts the door behind him and I let out a sigh of relief. I suddenly feel naked as his words ring in my ear. Kill it…presents…car park.
A reddish light shines from directly above me as I stare at my empty figure in the mirror. I’m not much – fairly average – but I’m constantly bewildered as to why I’m his victim. Why me? Every single night he comes home, drunk as hell, and I’m left to clear up his mess whilst he is amused by forcing himself onto me until he is finished, and I lay there like a piece of rubbish he’s tossed out of the window.
Shaking and petrified, I try to put on my mascara. But that isn’t helped by the mass of tears ready to burst through the dam if I don’t keep them under control. You’re better than this. I finally decide to give up on makeup and slip on a black A-line leather skirt, a striped just-about-crop-top that is white and gives me enough coverage that my belly button isn’t exposed and neither is my cleavage. Over the top I slip on my vintage Harley Davidson leather jacket, which reminds me of the days when my friends and I would sit in the park for hours with stolen Jack Daniels and a 2L bottle of Coke. I opt for no tights, because although I feel more vulnerable, I can’t stop what’s going to happen to me later so why make it more difficult for us both. Finally a pair of black ankle boots with a slight heel and silver buckle completes the look.
I scan the room to remind myself what life without him could be like, but wrappers and thrown clothes remind me that my hopes will hardly become a reality. With that thought I grab my keys and my phone, shove them into my jacket pockets and head out the door.
