The drunk and foolish girl
That was me that fateful night: wasted and heartbroken over a coward who couldn't care less about me.
But you already knew that, didn't you?
You were drooling all over me that night—thirsty as ever. You knew exactly where we'd be.
You knew they reluctantly left me alone in my room drunk and disoriented with the door unlocked.
That's how you got in, right?
The door creaked open and an ominous figure stepped closer to the foot of my bed from the shadows. That's all I remember before it all went black.
I passed out and was covered in my own puke.
I don't remember much from that night. But I do recall you coming in unwelcome while I laid in bed, barely able to move.
But that compelled you to desire me more, didn't it?
The control aroused you, I'm sure. You're entitled and like the power.
Did your ego expand after taking me that night?
I was in a state where I scarcely knew where I was or what I was doing.
Did it turn you on?
I laid there motionless, unable to control my own body.
Did it turn you on?
The girl who rejected you was vulnerable and all alone for the first time all night.
Did it turn you on?
It's been over a week, and I still remember the confusion I felt when you stepped closer to me—masking the light from the hallway with your body.
I woke up with my bra unclasped and the feeling like a parasite climbed into my body and I was no longer in control of myself.
Now, I find myself avoiding human contact and craving the feeling I got when I was incapacitated: the feeling that nothing and no one mattered.
I want to lose all control again and just give in and disappear.
I've been crying out for help, but all that comes out is air.
