Rape is a funny thing. I mean, theres lots of questions that can't be answered like
"Is it rape if you like it?" Well, judging by my experiences, there's nothing to like.
It aches, soo badly. It hurts after, and it feels like your a soldier recovering from shellshock. So yeah.
That's all I thought about every day. Then I met Ash.
I was sat in Starbucks, weeping like I always am, when he walked up to me.
"Are you OK?"
"Yes, I'm fine." I sniffed and looked up. He had blonde hair with blue eyes, and was taller than me. And I am extremely tall.
"Are you sure?" he questioned, looking at my tear stained face.
"Yes." I said, sounding irratated. I didn't mean to sound like that, but I constantly have mood swings. I could be laughing one minute and crying the next for no reason at all.
Then that beautiful boy walked away. Every week he would stare at me crying in that Starbucks. Most other people ignored it. Most girls my age are alchoholics, so they assumed that I was. But I'm not. I was suffering from rape.
Then, a month later he walked up to me. I had stopped weeping, and started staring into the distance. You could call it a hobby. Crying was my old one, staring at nothing was my new one.
"Rape?" he whispered.
"Nah. I'm good, someone's already did it to me." I replied.
"No, I mean, did it happen to you. But the answer is yes so... yeah."
"What's your name?" I said. I felt comfortable around this guy. I could normally only talk to girls, but this boy felt... safe.
"Ashton La'Devour. But you can call me Ash."
"Haha, It's easier to remember that way! I'm Chelsea Maroon." I replied.
He smiled and walked away.
"Bye!" he said.
I sat there, thinking of his eyes when I started throwing up.
"Miss, are you ok?" A boy asked, dodging out of the vomit's way.
"Um *bbllleeeuuughh* yes little *bbblleeuugghhh* boy." I said.#
What was that? I don't know.