Santiago

S13

On the white paper, I drew a house that was far in the distance outside my window. Drawing calmed me, it was therapeutic. It had been half a week since Santiago left me the crayons.

Also the night he hit me for the second, surely not the last, time. I had woken up confused to the strange kindness I was so sure I would never receive again.

I had drawn through half the notebook already, I wished I could share them with someone, anyone. I had been fucked eight times today and my vagina felt extremely sensitive and was definitely swollen. Even when I walked I felt pain. I put away my drawings and laid down on my bed.

As I was about to fall asleep, my door opened and in came the man who ruined my life, a shiny whiskey bottle half empty wrapped in his hand firmly.

"Hey." I said frowning and in came the shittiest friend anyone could ask for.

Be nice I reminded myself. He's drunk.

"going to bed?" He asked me and I shook my head no. "No, I was just lying down." I said and wanted to slap myself. Why was I so slow. Lie.

'Yes I am going to bed, please leave'

He ran his hand through his long brown curls and nodded. He walked closer and sat down next to me, placing the bottle on the nightstand. He grabbed the blanket I was covering my chest with and pulled it down. His hazel eyes ran over my body, he hummed lowly as my bare breasts appeared.

Fear registered in my head and I tried covering myself again but he gripped the sheets. I bit my lip nervously. His eyes were red. He ran his finger across my collar bone and then started playing with my breast.

"They're perfect." He whispered kissing my shoulder. I looked at him blankly.

"Hey, thanks for the notebook and the crayons... I really appreciated it." I whispered, maybe if I reminded him of the times he wasn't an asshole he wouldn't be one, but i knew nothing about psychology.

"You're welcome." He replied as he lowered his hand between my legs, he started rubbing and I tried taking the pain. Tears ran down my cheeks as he started to more faster .

I gripped his hand and shut my eyes. "Please stop." I whispered."What?" He asked."It hurts really bad." I whispered.

"Okay." He said back as he stopped touching me and reached for the bottle of whiskey.

'Okay?' Thats it? He actually cared that I was in pain?

He took a huge gulp and gave me the bottle. "Drink." He commanded and I grabbed it with no hesitation. Anything that would numb me was greatly appreciated. I took three gulps and shut my eyes shaking my head. "Fuck." I cursed as I wiped my mouth. I handed the bottle to him again. He chuckled and put it back on the nightstand.

"No cigarettes?" I asked him sarcastically and he raised an eyebrow at me.

"If you behave." He replied. I nodded.

"How many today?" He asked.

"Eight." I whispered painfully. I caught the tear that slipped out of my eye.

"Good girl." He nodded and I gulped down  the sob about to escape. He passed me the amber bottle again and I gulped down as much as I could until I hunched over and coughed with a burning throat.

When I had recovered he already had two cigarettes out for us and I turned to look at him and took it from his hand. Our skin knuckles touched and for some reason I didn't move.

My fingertips lightly and carefully inched down to his wrist, then his forearm. His skin was warm, the hair soft and- I instantly snapped out of it before he pulled out a gun and shot me.