Sincerely, Harry || Homicidal Prequel

Entry 08

Dear diary,

My therapist says I'm making progress. I managed to tell her about month six, where I noticed Dustin's touches slowly become more sexual. I didn't tell her how he had started rubbing me over my pants one day in my room, and I certainly didn't tell her how I had an orgasm from it. It was my first one by anyone other than myself, and it was exciting, but the instinct of “this doesn't feel right” was always present.

All I told my therapist was: “He tried to touch me a handful of times. I said no. One time he didn't stop, and he ended up dead. End of.”

It was so much more than that.

After that first time, he tried again, except this time, his hand tried to go down my pants. I told him no and that I didn't want it, so he stopped. He kissed me, told me he loved me, and cuddled me.

He tried to touch me again the following week. I was at his house this time—somewhere we rarely every went because my mother was always there and where I felt slightly unsafe—and he slid his hand down my pants. I grabbed his wrist and pulled it out—his hand, I mean—and told him I didn't want it.

He had said: “Sorry, baby. You're gorgeous, you know? Just want to make you feel good. Come on, baby, I'll make it so good for you.”

I had shook my head and said: “I don't want it.”

He had rolled his eyes and said: “Come on, baby.”

“No. You can't make me do something I don't to do. I'll—I'll tell my mum and she'll press charges.” I put my foot down that time, had said it more firmly, but Dustin had saw right through me.

Still, he had rolled so I was on top of him, held me tight, played with my hair. I had tucked my face into his neck and tried to make myself disappear. He usually had a way of making me feel immature, and I felt it more than ever then.

It reminds me of the night he died. The night I killed him, I should say.

Maybe I can face it now. Just maybe.

It happened like this:

Gemma was out with her friend with benifits, mum was with Dustin's father and their house. We were curled up together on the couch; my head nestled against his chest and his arm around me. Seemingly innocent, but his hand had started wandering, and he flipped us over and pinned me down when I told him to stop.

He said: “You know you want it, baby.”

“I don't,” I replied.

“I know that you do. Don't worry, baby, I won't tell your mummy,” he said.

“Dustin, I really don't want to have sex. Not tonight, not ever,” I told him.

At this point, I was so scared. He was trying to pull my pants down as he kissed my neck, and my heart was pounding hard enough for me to feel it against my ribs.

“Don't you want to be in a relationship, Harry?” he asked. “Don't you want someone to give you kisses and cuddles, to make you feel good?”

I shuddered. “Y-yes.”

“Then you have to have sex with me,” he responded. “You can't keep a man if you don't give them anything. You don't want to be boring, do you? A prude?”

“No,” I said.

I was pushing at his chest, trying to roll him off of me, but hhe wouldn't budge. I couldn't stop crying.

“That's what I thought,” he replied. “Come on, baby. Sex is fun.”

“But I don't want it.” I tried to say it firmly. God, I tried, but I was so scared and my voice kept cracking.

This is where he stopped being calm and became angry. He slapped me, right across my cheek, and said: “Listen here. Shut up, Harry. Just take it. You'll like it, I promise.”

He wasn't messing around anymore. He yanked down the zipper on my pants and popped the button. I cried harder and gathered the strength to push him off of me. I made it to the kitchen before he caught up to me.

He shoved me against the counter after he took his shirt off, cornering me in. He fumbled with his zipper as he spat his next words in my face.

He said: “You know, Harry, this is so going to be worth the six-hundred dollars I bet on your virginity.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Oh, Harry, did you honestly think I loved you? You're so stupid. Your own mother doesn't love you. What makes you think I do if she can't?”

I never felt so dumb in my life. It felt like a slap to my cheek, but maybe that was Dustin's hand again. I can't remember much else, it's all a blur, but all I recall is telling him no and him not stopping. So I stabbed him.

It was only once, and I dropped the knife on the floor and stumbled back. Dustin fell, clutching the hole in his chest that was spewing blood.

I watched him die. I watched the light leave his eyes, watched him cough up blood and writhe in pain. I watched as the spray of blood slowly move to a trickle before it stopped altogether.

I'm sorry, I can't go on. I'm crying so hard. I'm going to go to the games room to find Alyssa. I need someone right now. I'll write soon.

Sincerely,

Harry.