This isn't how it was supposed to go.
Her pale blue dress, the one she'd spent months saving up for, was now hiked up over her backside as she gripped onto the bathroom sink. She stared into the grimy mirror, watching the small girl in the mirror as she moans desperately. What a whore.
The boy behind her isn't her date. No, they had left already. This was a student, someone who was supposed to be here. She prays that he's a senior; guilt settles in her chest as she watches his hands wrap around her and reach for her chest, palming at her breasts.
The night had begun so innocent, so stupid, just two graduates hoping to get into prom while they still could. A bit of flirting, and they were walking into the dark gymnasium with a pair of juniors, dancing the rest of the night away.
They spiked the punch, they had to. She had the liquor on her already, a small flask tucked into her dress, so why not? Everything's fun with a little bit of vodka, right?
Wrong.
This is wrong, everything about this is wrong.
She doesn't notice the tears streaming down her cheeks until he's already finished, fixing his pants and saying something she can't quite hear over the ringing in her ears. The dress slips back down, hiding the evidence. She can feel it dripping down her thighs, shame bubbling up her throat- or maybe it's the punch.
It comes out with a gasp and cough, right into the sink. Thankfully, it misses her dress; red really isn't her color. She trembles and shakes, wiping at her lips.
This isn't how it was supposed to go.
YOU ARE READING
The Untitled Azura Project
Short StoryHow long does it take for a picked flower to die? Azura Fleur is a young lady from Grand Rapids with a history of abusive loved ones and a knack for finding the wrong coping mechanisms. Without a decent role model, how will she ever learn clean up h...
