You Make My Dreams Come True

Laughing with Thomas on the floor of his dorm, with maybe just a little alcohol involved. That's how this all started. The rising action, boys and girls. This is where it gets good.

Over the past week or so, Thomas seemed to be interested in what I had to offer as a friend. Maybe he was curious and maybe he had a secret motive, like I did. But that never really crossed my mind. All I knew was Thomas and I were on the road to becoming fast friends.

I decided to make a surprise visit at his dorm, with a bottle of my father's beautifully aged red wine in my arms. I had debated whether to bring the drink or not. Eventually I said to myself, "Might as well. If it doesn't do any good, at least it won't do any harm."

Thomas opened his door and welcomed me quickly. He seemed to enjoy my presence, which was quite shocking to me. Why would Thomas like me, the weird guy who was an arse to him just a few days before? But no matter. I wasn't going to question a good thing.

We talked about everything we always talked about. People, teachers, classes, films, shows, anything on the face of the earth. Thomas doesn't watch much TV. He just doesn't like it. I've never watched much TV but I'm a big fan of the films, something he doesn't agree on with me. I told him that was subject to change.

Then we started getting into... feelings. And thoughts. Don't get me wrong, I have a whirlwind of feelings and thoughts. But nothing I talk to people about. I'm Oliver Redmond, cocky and confident. I always know what I want. I can't be the confused guy, unsure of everything. That would just ruin the appearance I had built for myself: the gay guy who is just out for some fun and a hot bloke. Actually feeling like I was in love with someone but not being sure... well that was somewhere I didn't want to go.

"Marie-Claire is pretty sweet," Thomas said. Those words almost ripped my heart to shreds, but I don't give up that easily. "And cute."

"She's a fine girl," I added. "But not my cup of tea."

"I can see that," Thomas laughed slightly. His little, breathy laugh that he laughed when he though something really was funny. Obviously, my blunt homosexuality tickled his funny. But I wasn't offending or anything. Quite the contrary, actually. It made me want to kiss him, let him know what that little laugh did to me. I wanted to show him how I felt. So I did. (Hint- here's the climax.)

I leaned over him and pressed my mouth against his. It wasn't passionate or intense, like most of my kisses were. This was more soft and romantic, yet prying. I licked his lips, silently begging him to part them. He obeyed and quickly reacted, moving his body closer to mine and letting me run my tongue along his teeth.

Slowly, we lowered to the floor. Once we were on the floor, we paused to remove our shirts. Thomas had a nice chest. No abs, but it was clear that he was a very fit young man.

I pressed my body to his as I unzipped his pants and mine. I soon realized I was getting hard. So was Thomas. I took this as an opportunity to give Thomas a little hand job, and he returned the favor.

After a while, we both arrived. We were too tired and too happy to move and change our underwear. It may sound gross but at the moment I wasn't really thinking about my tighty-whities.

"That was amazing," Thomas breathed.

"Hell yeah it was," I returned.

"So," Thomas began. "Where does this leave us?"

"I have no idea," I said. "Does it matter right now? I think we both are in a happy position. Let's worry about what to call ourselves later."

"Sounds like a plan," Thomas told me. He smiled his cute little smile and I felt on top of the world.

As happy as I was, I couldn't help thinking about when to tell Thomas I originally befriended him to get into Xavier's pants. Does it even matter anymore? I just know I can't sleep at night knowing that Thomas is being used by someone, especially me.

"Thinking about something?" Thomas inquired, snapping me out of my reverie.

"No," I answered. "Nothing important." He smiled again and we sat in happy silence for a while. No matter what I hide from Thomas, I'll always remember this day as an exceptionally fantastic day.

Have you lost your mind or has he taken all of yours too?

Journal,

"In Act II, Scene 3 of Julius Caesar, Shakespeare portrays Brutus and his fellow conspirators as soaking in the blood of Caesar, not to demonstrate that their killing of Caesar was a sacrifice to better Rome, but to show that they become so wrapped up in their quest for power that they failed to recognize their own barbarism. "

I stared at the paper in front of me for several minutes. It had taken me .15 seconds to construct that sentence, and 15 minutes later I still couldn't figure out what to follow it up with.

The fact that I was even working on this paper in the first place was frustrating. I had woken up at noon and headed to Marie-Claire's dorm room at 1, only to find that she was out at the movies with Thomas. I shouldn't blame her for doing things without me, because I was actutely aware of how shamelessly I had ditched her this last week and a half. That didn't stop me from blaming her for my current situation.

I hopped up off the floor, which was were I did all of my schoolwork. I headed over to my bookshelf and scanned the titles. I picked up "The Stranger" by Albert Camus. Great way to kill a couple of hours.

I set up two chairs in the middle of my dorm and threw a blanket over them. I grabbed a flashlight, my Ipod, and the book, and set up camp in my makeshift fort. It sounds terribly immature, but if you're going to cut yourself off from society for a day, you might as well have fun with it.

Thirty pages into Part II, there was a knock on the door. I wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the break in songs on my Ipod. Truthfully, I didn't know how long the person had been out there, but I didn't feel like getting the door. Sheer curiosity drove me to action.

"Hello?" I said, opening the door. A man with with the hood of his jacket up pushed his way past me and into my dorm. Immediately, I had a pretty good guess of who it was. I stared absentmindedly out the door, noting for the first time that it was dark outside. How long had I been reading?

"Are you going to shut the fucking door or are you going to stand there all night?" Peter Landen snapped, unzipping his jacket behind me.

"Nice to see you too," I replied unenthusiastically. I shut the door and turned around. Peter was peering around my dorm room.

"Is that a fort?" he laughed, poking the blanketed contraption with his foot.

"It is my dorm room," I shot back. "I have every right to have a fort."

"Yea, I guess," he shrugged. "If you're five."

I sighed and turned my Ipod back on. Ignoring Peter, I bent down and disappeared back under my "childish" fort. I grabbed my book off the floor and continued reading. Five minutes later, Peter poked his head in. He smiled and climbed into the fort.

"Did I say that you could enter the fort?" I snapped, slamming the book closed.

"Can I enter the fort?" he murmured and smiled at my annoyance.

"Well, now that the rules of fort etiquette have been blatantly violated, I suppose you can do whatever you feel like," I huffed.

"You're cute," he whispered, and I smiled softly.

"I know," I replied. "What are you doing here? I was under the assumption that I'd seen the last of you. What was it? If I want to find you, which I doubt I ever will, I know where to?"

"Well," Peter shrugged. "I wanted to find you."

"Did your fiancée drive you up a wall?" I asked, curious despite my intense desire to genuinely not give a crap.

"You could say that," he shrugged. "I left her."

The shock read on my face. "What? Why?" I sputtered.

Peter stretched his arms out and laid down on his back. "I kind of don't like girls like I like guys," he stated simply.

"Oh."

"The press is going to have a field day with this," he sighed, covering his face with his hands. "Not even the gay part, because I never even told that to Sofia. But I can imagine it now. "The Drug Problem that Tore Rock's Power Couple Apart." Or even "Sofia Morghan's Affair with Lead Drummer of The Smith's was the Last Straw". God, I hope she doesn't get shit for this."

"That's sort of inevitable," I shrugged. Peter glared at me and I shut up about that. "How long did you two go out?"

Peter shook his head and shrugged. "I didn't exactly come here for the therapy session," he smirked and sat up. The thought of sleeping with him in my fort, right after his breakup, was all wrong. Some lines shouldn't be crossed.

"I'm curious," I shot back, pushing his back down to the ground. "I want to know what happened."

"So you can tell all of your little friends about it?"

"No," I stated coldly. I laid down on the floor next to Peter and stared at the quilt pattern on the blanket. "Did you love her?"

Peter didn't say anything for awhile. "I lost my virginity to her when I was 17."

"Was this before or after you realized that you liked guys better?" I asked. This time I wasn't trying to poke fun at his sexuality. I was genuinely curious.

"Before," he said. He covered his face with his hands and mumbled something else.

"What?" I inquired.

"By two days," he restated. "I had sex with her two days before I first kissed a guy. And I had sex with a guy four days after I lost it to her. Two different situations, two different guys."

"You made up for lost time quickly," I remarked.

"Yea, I guess," he chuckled. "I was talking to my friend Teddy about how it went with her, and I was showing him something that we did and I just kissed him. I didn't even think about it, either. I just went for it. I was able to play it off like it was all part of Show n' Tell, but..."

"That's when you knew something was horribly wrong," I said in my deep, horror movie trailer voice.

"Two days after that, I was at a cast party for Melissa's first season of EastEnders. She was... 14 then, so that would make Mark Simpson 19. Two years older than me at the time, and the star of the show."

"Isn't he out now?" I asked.

"Yea," Peter nodded. "But he wasn't when I was 17. He was far too much of a sex symbol back then to come out."

"As compared to now?" I asked, recalling all the times I had seen him on the cover of magazines in the last year.

"Yes, well now he's a sex symbol for a different sex. Do you want to hear the story or not?" Peter grumbled. I shut up obediently. "So I was at the cast party and my band had just done our set and I was in the back room, getting drunk out of my wits. Mark Simpson comes up to me and introduces himself, talks about how much he loves working with my sister and how great the band was, and slips his hand into my pocket "for a light." I, being jacked up on adrenaline from the show and being a lovely stew of confused teenage hormones, went hard as a rock." Peter paused for a second and chuckled.

"So I guess he had you figured out pretty fast."

"We shagged in the bathroom of the club. I mean, just think about that lovely story. I lost it, for real this time, in a bathroom of a club."

"How poetic."

"How romantic," he scoffed. "I was still going out with Sofia. I was an amazing boyfriend."

I concentrated on ceiling of blankets and thought about how weird, but great, it was that he was telling me all of this stuff.

"So what about you?" he asked. "I want your story."

"My story's boring," I shrugged. "I lost it to a girl on the field hockey team in the locker room when I was 14."

"Locker room and bathroom?" Peter smiled. "We're a classy gang. So what about on the flip side of things?"

I bit my lip and tried to think of how to word this without sounding like a major loser. "Well, okay. See, here's the thing. I like to mess with people. Halfway through this last year I met this guy at my school, and it was obvious that he was in to me. I couldn't pass up the opportunity, especially because he was in this "perfect" relationship and his girlfriend was blind as a bat."

Peter laughed and rolled over on his side to look at me. "You're evil."

"Wait, I'm not done. So this guy and I fooled around for like 3 months, but whenever it came to sex, I didn't want to and he couldn't bring himself to. I was way more into girls than I was into him, and the whole thing kind of grossed me out. So we never really got that far, and eventually he decided to try to be "straight" once again."

"Uh-huh," Peter nodded. I looked over at him, but he was staring up at the ceiling.

"So my best friend made me a bet that I couldn't get this one celebrity to sleep with me, and me being me, I won that bet. And I slept with her brother too."

Peter turned to look at me. I felt weird meeting his eyes, and once I did, I couldn't decipher his expression. "Holy shit," he murmured.

"Ever since then, I've sort of been on a roll," I shrugged.

"That's insane. You're insane to lose it to someone you knew for all of twenty minutes."

"Crazy like a fox," I chuckled nervously. "Congrats, you're the first person to make me feel horribly inexperienced."

Peter sighed and shook his head. "10th grade, you said you were in?"

My forehead was on fire and my fingers were trembling with... I don't know what. I nodded.

"Don't do something stupid and fall for me," he murmured. "I leave for Lollapalooza in America in a week."

I nodded, not bothering to think of some shitty remark about how it would be ridiculous for me to fall for someone. Peter sat up and kissed me softly on the lips and this time, I was fine with that just how it was.

Because The Mind Is A Weapon, See

And it's got you on

Your hands and knees

Pull the trigger if you're gonna

We all know that you wanna

Count off 1, 2, 1, 2, 3!

You better pray that there’s

Another way out

You better pray that

Someone’s listening now

(And doesn't wanna watch you drown)

'Cause when you lie like

The devil himself

No angel's gonna hear your

Cry for help!

I found myself in the dingy, rundown room again. I looked around, frantic, for a way out but my feet were glued to the spot. I began to panic. I couldn’t get out and soon he would be here to use me again, to hold me in place and tell me how to let him use me.

He came out of nowhere, shoving me to my hands and knees. I tried to stand up but he pushed me down again.

“Stay,” He barked. I nodded, tears rolling down my cheeks. He stood behind me, thrusting his hips into my hind side. I felt him get hard and I sobbed harder.

I wanted to kill myself. I wanted him to kill me. I wanted to die. I didn’t want to know what he was doing to me, I didn’t want to let him. I wanted to go to heaven where everything was rainbows and kittens and cake and candy.

He stopped.

“I’m done,” He said as if I was a machine he was using. “You can do whatever you want with yourself now.” I sobbed even harder. Now he had rights over what I did with myself. I wasn’t my own person anymore. I was a dog that someone else owned.

He kneeled down on his knees and handed me a gun. I took it from him and ran my hands over it. I stared at it for a few minutes, thinking about what in hell I was going to use it for. Would I blow a bullet in his head or mine?

“Let me help you,” He told me. He placed his hands over mine and moved them to the right spot on the gun. He turned it towards my face. I slipped it into my mouth, squeezing my eyelids tightly together.

As I hesitated ending my life, I felt a hand on my back. “Go ahead.” The man said. Would I follow his orders?

The trigger fell back, almost as if by it’s own accord. But I could tell that there was a slight pull in my first finger.

My eyes flew open. I was lying in my bed, squeezing the pillow tightly. Sweat was running down my face, along with tears.

How could I have listened to him? How could I have let him help me kill myself? I’ve never been the kind of person to give up. Sure, I’ve had falters where giving up sounded like a really good idea but I never did. I’ve been able to deal with things similar to this before… why was it so easy to give up now? If I was just going to give up the moment someone shouted boo, then maybe I deserved to be raped.

I’m never going to get back to normal, am I? I’ll never be the same strong, confident Genevieve I used to be. I can’t stand knowing the me I loved isn’t going to come back.

Even though I know it’s all my fault, I wish someone was there to save me.

I closed my eyes, trying to think of something else. I couldn’t. My mind kept making me feel guilty. I felt like I was bending over again, held in place by an invisible force. I felt the guilt, I felt the pain. I sobbed soundlessly, wishing that I would fall asleep and never wake up again. The pain was too much to bear. The world was one big black color, devoid of all happiness. I couldn’t stop crying.

The darkness closed in around me, like Satan hugging a lost soul. It was a cold, evil hug that I wanted to shake free from. I couldn’t escape though and fell into the arms of darkness. I relinquished myself to thoughts of guilt and fear. I know I’ll never reach a point of normalcy again. The darkness will always be there.

If I drown tonight, bring me back to life.

Have you ever had one of those moments where you have an epiphany so epic that you realize you've been an idiot for way too long? I had one of those moments today.

Xavier is obviously out to get into Thomas's pants. And when you like someone, to get their attention you try to have common interests. Thomas isn't that bad of a guy. So why can't Thomas be our common interest? To get to Xavier, I have to be closer to Thomas than Xavier is comfortable with.

So I decided to go talk to Thomas and apologize for being such an arse. I knocked on his door rather authoritatively. He opened the door and his face remained expressionless when he realized it was me.

"Hey there, Thomas," I tried to say as normal as possible.

"Here to berate me for something?" He almost scowled. I don't think Thomas is really capable of scowling. He's just capable of getting close to it but being so shy that it doesn't come out right.

"You're a really nice bloke, I've realized. And I've been quite a tosser towards you. I just wanted to apologize." I told him and stuck out my hand. "What do you say, mate? Want to start over?"

Thomas eyed my hand suspiciously, wondering if I would pull something when he grasped my hand. After a few moments of inner battle, he finally accepted my gesture and shook my hand.

When we finished, Thomas asked, "What made you want to do this?"

"I try to be a nice guy. Just though I should apologize for being such a git."

"It's greatly appreciated," He returned with an almost-smile that made my heart jump into over drive. Seeing Xavier made me think about fucking him which gave me a hard-on. But seeing Thomas smile shyly made me feel like butterflies were trying to escape my stomach. The feeling confused and for a moment, I was unsure of what I wanted. But I shook the thought from my mind and returned to normal mode.

We were silent for a few moments. I didn't know if Thomas was one for hanging out or just casual talk in class. So I told him what I wanted him to believe instead beating around the bush.

"I want to be friends with you. Not 'Hey, Thomas, what mark did you get on your exam? Me too!' friends. I want to be good friends, close friends. And I don't know how one becomes good friends with you, so feel free to lead the way into friend ship town."

Thomas was silent for a few seconds. "What makes you want to be friends?"

"You are an interesting kid." This was not a lie.

"Whatever," Thomas mumbled. I smiled at his reluctance. Why, I do not know. I realized my confusion would not help the situation because I'd probably end up testing my feelings by kissing him or something and that would jeopardize the whole thing so I decided to retreat.

"Oh, wow, look at my watch. Is it that late already?" I said, using something so basic to escape. "I'd love to stay and chat but I have to go."

"It's like three in the afternoon." Thomas said to himself as I walked off and he returned to his dorm. I laughed to myself. This will be better than I expected.

Ravaged and plundered and ripped him and bit him, Stuck him with knives in the side of the dawn

Your ballroom days are over.

Journal,

I woke up to the peculiar feeling of sweaty skin against skin. The left of my side of my face was temporarily pasted to my bicep. Where was I? Who was I with? What had I done last night? It was a sex addict's game of Clue.

I sat up slowly; a wave of nausea washing over me. My head was tense, my ears rang, and my eyes couldn't adjust to the sunlight. From what I could make out, I was in my dorm room. I looked at the empty space in the bed next to me. There was no way I had gotten this fucked up and sex hadn't resulted. So where was the mystery suitor?

"Looks like Sleeping Beauty has awoken," a thick British accent said behind me. I looked behind me and saw Peter Landen walk out in my bathroom, clad only in a towel.

"Fuck no," I groaned. I had tried so hard to get with him and I couldn't even remember it. The tragedy. The irony. The cosmic karma.

"Awwww," Peter cooed, his voice lacking the sympathy that his words portrayed. "Does the ittle bittle schoolboy have a headache from the Big Bad..."

"Heroin," I cut in. The last thing I could remember was heroin and a microphone, and something told me that Peter was responsible for all of this. "The Big Bad Heroin that you gave me." I grabbed my head and thanked god that I was alive for a brief second. "You really try hard to fit the whole "rock star" stereotype, don't you?" I remarked coldly.

Peter glared at me, his face telling me that I could go fuck myself. I let my anger drop without an argument.

"What happened last night?"

Peter pulled his shirt over his head and messed with his hair. "What's the last thing you remember?" he remarked inattentively.

"Not much," I shrugged.

"That's a shame," he smirked. He looked down at me, like he was trying to piece together the story in his head before he told me. "You're famous, kid."

I laid back down on my bed. I couldn't wait to hear the story behind this one.

"You managed to ride my opening act into a partly drug-induced coma, so you went on instead. You were abso-fucking-lutely stoned, but you were amazing. You took your shirt off and sang the Doors. Teenage girls eat that shit up. In fact, my manager called me and told me that the opening act last night had real "charisma and sex appeal." He doesn't just say that about everybody, either," Peter explained. I clenched my eyes shut and tried to associate what Peter was talking about to the few blurs of images I remembered.

"That sounds vaguely plausible," I sighed. "For me, anyways."

"Then we came back here and shagged," Peter added on.

I sat up and grinned at him. "I thought you said "No sloppy seconds"?"

Peter looked at me quizzically and shook his head. "You really don't remember anything about last night, do you?"

I nodded reluctantly. Peter sighed and sat down next to me on my mattress. He turned to face me, then looked up at the ceiling.

"What grade are you in?" he asked despondently.

"Two years from graduating," I replied. He held up his hand and tried to figure out what grade that made me be in. "Tenth," I added. Attractive people shouldn't think that hard.

"Holy s...mokes," he groaned.

"You can fuck me, but heaven forbid you say 'Shit'", I laughed nervously. Suddenly, I felt like... what I was. A kid.

Peter sighed and put his head in his hands. He stayed like this for a few moments, while I stared awkwardly at my feet. Finally, he looked up at me. His eyes looked genuinely concerned, though I couldn't quite figure out who he was concerned for. Me or himself. He leaned in closer and kissed me softly. I'm not used to this.

Seeing as I'm too emotionally fucked to handle tender kissing, I shoved him back on my bed and deepened the kiss. He worked his hands up under my shirt, which I slid off. I broke off the kiss so that I could work on my belt buckle. He laughed softly, until his laughing turned to a low moan. Perplexed, I looked down and realized that his phone was vibrating in his pants pocket.

"Sofia?" I asked, grabbing his cell from his pocket. "Who the fuck is Sofia?"

"Shit!", Peter exclaimed, snatching his cellphone away from me and shoving me off him. "Hello?" he said, flipping his cell open. "Hey love... I went for a walk through Liverpool... No, I don't know where I am currently... Yes, I remembered that you were coming up today... See you... Love you... Bye."

Peter snapped his cellphone closed and jumped up.

"Who's that?" I smirked.

"My fiance," he snapped. My mouth curled into an "O" and I contemplated what to say next.

"So... Does she know that you like guys?"

Peter glared at me and grabbed his coat off the floor. "I've got to go."

"Well..." I said, but Peter cut me off.

"Listen," he stated calmly. "This isn't a "thing". That's not how I operate. I'm not a repeat offender. We're not going to "meet up later." You cannot have my number. If I want to find you, which I doubt I ever will, I know where to."

With that, Peter Landen, Rock Star of the New Generation and Closet Case #200 in the Recurring Chronicles of Xavier Beckingham... departed unceremoniously.

Five to one, baby, one to five. No one here gets out alive.

The things I do for love, Journal.

Not love at all, really. That's a laugh. In my own sick fucked-up universe though, continously wanting, for an extended period of time, to sleep with someone and not being able to is love. I hope Marie-Claire doesn't read this though, because she's in a different category. Or maybe she should read this so that she can finally realize what's good for her and ditch me. Anyhooooo....

In the last week, I managed to casually stumble into the lead singer of Sunny Day Real Estate's opening act, introduce myself, get myself invited to the concert, and end up exactly where I wanted to be.

"Who's fucking?" the ever-elusive Peter Landen called in a sing-song voice as he stumbled backstage before the show. I grinned widely at the ceiling as Lucy (Or was it Lucia?) continued to do what she did best, not even hearing Peter over her...vocal expressions of happiness.

"Lula?" Peter mumbled, brushing his hair out of his ears.

Lula, I noted silently. That's a name I never would have guessed.

Just then, "Lula" came and collapsed down next to me. Peter's eyes grew wide with surprise as they fell upon me. I remained ambivelent in appearence and grabbed my pants off the floor.

"That was definitely worth the price of admission," I mused as I put my pants back on.

"Don't you know it, babe," Lula mumbled through her cocaine induced haze. She yawned and stretched out on her bed, most likely falling in unconciousness a few moments later.

I left the room and looked back at Peter, who was still standing there in his confusion. "Oh," I said nonchalantly. "You again."

"It's kind of my fucking concert," he mumbled off-handedly. Now that I got a better look at him, he looked completely out of it. Heroin, I was going to guess. "So, are you just the groupie of Liverpool? The communal bong? Everybody takes a hit and passes it down the line?"

"I'm offended. She was a very lovely girl and we connected on a personal level," I shot back and smirked. I jumped up and grabbed a bar hanging from the ceiling, swinging back and forth in my post-coital adrenaline rush.

"You're fucking ridiculous," he said, point blank. "What are you, 15?"

"16," I corrected, jumping down in front of him. He stepped back, so I stepped forward and sneered. "And you are, what? 25?"

"I'm fucking 20," he scoffed, pincing my cheek. "You're going to be so cute when you hit puberty."

I brushed his hand away and grimaced. "So who's this chick you're marrying?"

"My personal affairs are none of your business," he said coldly.

"Wow," I exclaimed. "You almost sounded, like... not stoned out of your fucking mind."

Peter sighed in frustration and turned to walk away. Seeing as that would be highly detremental to my sleeping with him, I couldn't let this happen. I grabbed his shoulder, spun him around, and went for it.

A few moments of heavy breathing, salvia sharing kissing later, Peter pushed me away. "I'm still not into sloppy seconds," he shrugged.

"Whatever," I shot back. "It's not like guys are lining up to screw you, seeing as you're engaged and all. Even if they were, they'd choose me over you in a heart beat. Even if you're famous."

"You think quite highly of yourself for a teenybopper."

"If you got it, flaunt it," I shrugged, quoting the Producers.

"I'll make you a deal," Peter said, pulling me in closer. "Lula's passed out. Might not wake up tonight. Hell, might not wake up ever. And we need an opening act."

"Fuck no." I said before he could even vocalize his thoughts in question form.

"It's a shame," Peter shrugged. "I really wanted to..." Peter looked me up and down.

"Fuck you," I reiterated. "Can't sing," I said, counting out my reasons on my fingers. "Can't play an instrument. Can't hold a tune to save my life."

"The opening act makes us look good," he shrugged. "Just take off your shirt, grab an guitar and a microphone, and sing some old song that you know, and feel free to bomb."

I shook my head. Peter groaned and threw his hands up in frustration. Suddenly, he patted his pocket and pulled out a syringe.

"No," I said.

"It's not heroin," he assured me.

"What the fuck is it then?"

"I have no fucking clue. But it's amazing."

Journal, I know this sounds odd. See, if you could freeze the frame right here, I would like to explain myself. I knew that I shouldn't take whatever he was giving me. I knew that I didn't want to fuck around with drugs. I knew this and that meant that I was going to do the right thing. I was going to be responsible. And I couldn't fucking stand to live in my own skin if I was going to become the "responsible" guy.

"Sure," I nodded.

I clenched my fist and Peter blindly stuck the needle in my arm. The moment he pushed down on the syringe, I knew that he had been lying about it being heroin. I didn't give a fuck at this moment. I was on fire.

"Do you know the song "Five to One" by the Doors?" I asked. Peter nodded. "Play it."

And honestly, Journal, I have no fucking clue what happened next.

I'm all shook up

Dear Diary,

When I’m talking to a guy I like, the first thoughts that race through my head are “Do I sound completely stupid? Is there anything in my teeth? Does my smile give me a double chin? Do I look nice today?”. I second-guess everything that I do. I regret everything that I say. I want to go home and crawl into a ball and eat ice cream. I think it’s this way for a lot of people. When you walk through a crowd, it’s like walking through a giant cloud of self-doubt and and this passionate desire for acceptance. And then Xavier Beckingham weaves his way through that crowd with some idiotic girl or guy on his arm and all he’s thinking is “Fuck you. You’re lucky to have me.”

“What are you thinking about?” I hear in my ear.

“What?!” I shout above the blaring music and twirl around. Xavier was scanning through the crowd. He looked down at me and smiled. Why did I let him drag me to this stupid concert? He repeated the question and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer. Oh yea, that’s why

“Nothing,” I shrugged. “Do you know who’s playing here tonight?”

“No clue,” he said.

“Then why did we come?,” I asked, already annoyed.

“Because the girl who handed me the flyer had DFL,” he shrugged. I looked up at him and saw that he was looking at some guy who was staring straight back at him, despite the girl hanging off his arm. That poor girl and I should make a fucking coalition.

“DFL?” I asked, regretting it as soon as the letters left my mouth.

“Dick fondling lips.”

Lovely.

“Hey!” I heard behind me. It was the slur of a girl who had had far too much to drink. The slur of a girl who would probably end up slapping Xavier for some time he slept with her four months ago. She’d yell at him about how she “thought he wasn’t one of those guys” and later, Xavier would laugh and tell me that the slap was totally worth the sex. This is what I wanted to witness tonight.

“You’re that guy I met in London,” drunk girl behind us continued. Suddenly, this drunk girl threw her arms around Xavier and I saw her face for the first time. It was Melissa Landen, who played Kelly on EastEnders, who Xavier slept with on a bet with me. This was the motherfucking twilight zone.

“Melissa” Xavier said, unwrapping his arms from me.

“You were good in bed,” Melissa blurted out, like it was the most normal thing to say after casual “hello”s. The guy beside her (her date, I presume) blushed crimson red. For a second, I wondered if it was because he recognized this fact first hand, but that was too cynical for my tastes.

“I know,” Xavier nodded.

“Did you come here to see my brother?” Melissa asked, composing herself temporarily.

“You have a brother?” Xavier asked, playing dumb. Of course, Melissa had a brother. Like I didn’t hear about how Xavier slept with him for the entire week afterwards.

“Peter, yea,” she giggled. “He’s such a blockhead. I don’t know why Sarah is marrying him at all. She could do so much better!”

“Sarah?” Xavier asked, this time genuinely ignorant of what Drunk Girl, aka Melissa, was referring to.

“Don’t you read Rolling Stones?” she exclaimed, far too loudly for my taste. “They’re like... the hot new couple. Just got engaged. It’s everywhere.”

“And he’s playing here today?” Xavier inquired. I didn’t like the look on his face. It was his scheming look.

“You want to go backstage after the show?” she asked, biting her lip “sexily”. Gag me with a spoon.

“Or we could just go backstage now,” he shrugged. “We could occupy ourselves to the end of the show.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic!” she yelled, grabbing his hand and dragging him through the crowd. I shrugged empathetically at her date, who stood there bewildered.

The lights went down and the concert started. Peter Landen’s band, Sunny Day Real Estate, was pretty amazing. He’s cute, too, and I did recognize him from magazines.

After the show, I used my feminine wiles (ie boobs) to get backstage and get Xavier before he did something stupid, like out the poor bastard in front of everyone.

I stumbled around backstage and looked around for Xavier. I saw him in the corner, talking to Peter. Xavier was basically radiating sex, while Peter didn’t seem as interested. I saw him say a few words and walk off, leaving Xavier standing there, bewildered.

“Didn’t remember you?” I asked, walking up to where Xavier was frozen.

“No,” he seethed. “He just turned me down.”

“We all strike out sometimes,” I shrugged. Of course, I wouldn’t know. Chasing boys isn’t exactly my style.

“This isn’t over,” Xavier hissed. “Not even a little bit.”

“Can it be over for tonight?”

Xavier shrugged and followed me as I dragged him out of there. I understand that this has to be a critical blow to his ego. Is it bad that I love it? Well, stay tuned. I’m sure Xavier will do something totally idiotic/brilliant and keep the rumor mill running.

Well this won’t make it to the autobiography.

I opened the door to my dorm room and sighed. I’d spent the afternoon helping Marie-Claire with her French project and it was amazing. I closed my eyes and laid down on my bed. The picture of Marie-Claire’s smile was burned on the back of my eyelids.

Pushing the image from my mind, I mentally reviewed the day. Oliver kept on glancing between Xavier, for the sole reason that Xavier’s... gorgeous, and Genevieve, because she had been oddly distant for a couple days now. Should I be worried about her? I hadn’t known her for that long, but she’d always been very friendly. But, you know, people have those days. I guess the best thing is to wait and see.

My mind flicked back to Marie-Claire. The way her hair fell down her back and she looked like a screen goddess. The way she closed her eyes and smiled when I played for her. How her bright green eyes lit up brighter whenever she saw Xavier.

Unconsciously, I realized I’d been rubbing my inner thigh. Now that I realized what I was doing, I wondered if I should stop. I mean, most guys do it. It’s totally normal, right? Just because I’m not most guys didn’t mean it wouldn’t be completely normal for me to, right? I sighed and tested it out. I rubbed closer to my groin. The groan that escaped my lips, completely uncontrollable by me, startled me and both of my hands flew out from under the covers and towards my head. That was odd.

Xavier, I mused to myself. I’d never met someone quite like him. There was a very innocent side to him, even if he would deny it. He was like Puck from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He didn’t really intend to hurt anyone, he was just... michevious. However, Xavier had another side. The type of side that burns down schools for the sole reason of wanting to destroy something. I couldn’t really figure out where the line between the two sides were.

In the back of my mind, I heard my zipper unzip, but I ignored it. Over thinking this wouldn’t help.

Back to Marie-Claire. Marie-Claire, who changed my life. Marie-Claire, who probably saved me from a life of being a hobo. I would owe her everything. I started moving my hand up and down rhythmically as I desperately tried to keep my thoughts focused. What was I supposed to think about? What did guys normally think about? Marie-Claire, naked? Marie-Claire in a bikini?

I imagined how Marie-Claire would look at the beach. Images flickered through my mind like an old family movie- Marie-Claire smiling in the sand, Marie-Claire running into the ocean, Marie-Claire splashing the camera. Xavier would be with her no doubt. Probably frowning at the sunlight and shagging the Pamela Anderson-esque lifeguard against the bathhouse as he air high-fived to Marie-Claire, who would pretend not to notice.

Xavier had shown up at Marie-Claire’s dorm room to “help” her with her French project too, which in his world means to lay on her bed reading and making dirty comment every once and awhile. He had come into her room, freshly showered. “Guess who I was just shagging?” he exclaimed like an excited kid. “Genevieve’s roommate, Alice.”

“Ah,” Marie-Claire nodded. “I saw her staring at you yesterday and figured it was just a matter of time.”

“Has anyone noticed that Genevieve’s a bit out of it?” Xavier mused and I nodded. Xavier smiled down at me and yawned, reaching his fingers up into the air like a cat. His shirt rode up on his stomach and I took notice of line between his abs and his pelvic bone. I think they call that muscle the pelvic thruster, or something? That sounds vaguely inappropriate. Xavier opened his eyes and saw me looking up at him. An amused smirk spread across his face. “Yes, just a matter of time.”

I think at this point it had fully reached my consciousness that I was jacking off to a guy. Not any guy either, him. He, who was annoying and stubborn and could never get his mind out of the gutter. This thought didn’t revolt me enough to stop. Honestly, I don’t think I could have.

Xavier was kissing me, working his way down my stomach, undoing my belt buckle. I concentrated on replacing Xavier with someone else. Marie-Claire faded from my mind as soon as I thought of her. Another guy, maybe? I mean, I know I’m not attracted to all guys. I’m not worried about suddenly discovering that I’m gay, because that’s ridiculous. I replaced Xavier in my mind with Oliver.

The groan that escaped my lips confirmed that it didn’t make much of a difference.

Suddenly, and horrifying, the door to my dorm room opened.

“Hey,” Xavier said nonchalantly, entering my dorm room uninvited. My hand shot out from underneath the covers in a split second, but not before recognition crept on Xavier’s face.

“Whatever you think you saw,” I huffed, “you didn’t.”

“Thomas “I’m not concerned with sex”- jacking off? Well, this makes my day,” Xavier chuckled.

“Shuttup,” I blushed and looked up at the ceiling, silently cursing God. “So... why are you here?”

Xavier looked at me like he was in a trance, the amused grin on his face never falling. “What was that?”

“Why’d you come here?” I asked, willing my boner to... deflate.

“Olivia and Marie-Claire wanted to go down to the cafeteria to get dinner,” he explained.

“Okay,” I exclaimed enthusiastically. “I’ll get pants on and we can go.”

“Ummm, not like that,” Xavier said, his eyes staring directly at my crotch.

“It will go away, won’t it?” I murmured, feeling like the stupidest person alive.

“It’s not like you’ve never done this,” Xavier snorted. I stared at him blankly and realization finally washed over him. “Oh my god.” I nodded. “Marie-Claire must have really got you worked up.”

I collapsed back in my bed and covered my face with my hands. “Tell them I died,” I groaned.

“I can help you out,” Xavier shrugged and stepped closer. When I realized what he was talking about, my mouth fell open.

“No,” I shot back. “No, no. No thanks.”

“Come on,” Xavier smirked.

“I’m good,” I squeaked out. If only I could crawl under my covers and disappear. If I can’t see him, he can’t see me.

Without saying anything further, Xavier sat down on my bed and slipped his hand under my waistband. I lurched backward and hit the backboard. Xavier started moving his hand and stared directly at me. I bit my lip and felt my stomach drop. Only a minute later, I closed my eyes and gasped and the horrific ordeal was finally over.

“Jesus,” Xavier said, wiping his hand over on my shirt. “Go shower.”

“Xavier...”

“We don’t have to tell Marie-Claire,” he shrugged.

So I went to the shower, eager to wash off any remaining traces of cum and my dignity.

Superboy and the Invisible Girl

Superboy and the Invisible Girl

Son of Steel and Daughter of Air
He's a hero, a lover, a prince
She's not there
Dear Diary,

I used my hand to block the intense sunlight from my eyes as I scanned the picnic area for Xavier. He said he’d meet me here yesterday, but it wasn’t the first occasion he had decided that someone else was more worth his time. I heard a twig snap above my head, so I looked up. Lying precariously on one of the upper tree branches of the old oak was Xavier. Book in hand, he was tuning out the entire world. Breeze got his hair and blew it in front of his eyes, so he blew it out of the way. He looked so peaceful. He looked... godly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone coming up on my left. I turned and smiled at Thomas, but he took no notice. His eyes were glued directly on Xavier. I turned around and I noticed that this was a trend. Olivia, Charles, Artemis, Oliver, Melody, even Alice, they were all gawking at Xavier.

“Bloody hell, you guys are pathetic!” I exclaimed and clenched my fists.

“What?” Thomas said, snapping to attention. I sighed and shook my head, running back to my dormitory.

What Xavier had said about Thomas liking guys ran through my head. I resisted the urge to just scream “But you’re supposed to like me, god-dammit! Not him! Everybody loves him.” I know it’s petty, and I don’t even know if Thomas likes me, but I just wanted somebody to not fall for him.

If you were friends with Xavier Beckingham, you’d understand. Even the people who find him to be a disgusting person would sleep with him. Meanwhile, I’ve taken the role of “side kick”. I’ve become a stock character. I’ve faded away into him.

I closed the door of my dorm room and collapsed on the ground. I grabbed the bag of Twizzler’s from under my bed. A remnant from the eating disorder days. I finished off the entire bag in less than five minutes and wrapped my arms around my knees. I felt sugar coursing through my veins. It didn’t feel good, per say. But it felt... familiar.

I heard a knock on my door and let out a sob. I hadn’t even noticed that I’d been crying. Standing up, I brushed myself off and answered the door.

“I told you to meet me in the picnic area,” Xavier huffed moodily and entered into my room.

“Fuck you,” I shot back.

“Please,” he sneered and turned to face me. The sneer fell off his face and, for a second, he looked like he was genuinely concerned. “Are you okay?” he murmured, wrapping his arms around me.

“Don’t touch me.” However, I made not move to push him away.

“What’s wrong, bug?” he whispered into my ear.

“You! You’re what’s wrong”, I exclaimed half-heartedly. “I don’t want you in my life anymore. I want someone to look at me for a change when we walk into a room.” I buried my face in Xavier’s shirt.

“I look at you,” he offered and hugged me tighter. “And I think I’d die if you left me.”

“No,” I whispered. “You wouldn’t.”

“Is this Thomas?” Xavier suddenly exclaimed angrily. “Do you want to go off and be his perfect, little girlfriend?”
I shook my head. “Good,” Xavier mumbled. “Promise me you won’t leave me to rot here?”

“What?” I asked, suddenly confused by the direction this conversation was taking.

Xavier let me go and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He was clearly uncomfortable. “Are we a “we”? Because I think we are. I think we’re an “us.” I mean, obviously we’re not a very good “us”, because I still fuck anything that moves.”

“And I’m okay with that,” I reminded him.

“And if you liked Thomas you could go out with him,” he assured me. “But I still want to be an “us”. An open “us”, but an “us” no less.”

“We can be whatever pronoun you want us to be,” I laughed. “I think that might be the first relationship talk you’ve ever had to have.”

“Does “Don’t call me, I’ll call you” count as a relationship talk?” Xavier smirked.

I smiled to myself. I know that my original point wasn’t even discussed, Diary, but... He needs me. He cares about me. And none of those other people can say that. So maybe everybody loves him and I fade into the background. The people I need to care about me care.

Just get out and stay out

I stared at the overhead in Math class thoughtlessly. The overhead light shone directly into my eyes, causing my vision to fill with circles of light. In the background, I could hear the substitute teacher telling us about the conjugates of imaginary number. “Wohwoh woh woh woh”. Like the teacher in Peanuts, it all eventually faded to unrecognizable sound. I think I would have gone into a mental coma had I not noticed something worth my interest in my peripheral vision.

Thomas was talking to Charles. Charles, who had fallen off the face of the earth, who had found Jesus and was walking around like he was a living example of how the Lord can help you overcome temptation. Charles, who was handing a flyer over to Thomas.

The bell rang, dismissing us to lunch. I grabbed my bag and leapt up out of my seat and over to Thomas.

“What’s that?” I asked nonchalantly, ripping the flyer from Thomas’s fingers.

“Oh, Charles invited me to go to his church’s youth group tonight,” Thomas answered, looking up at me with confusion, but that same stupid look of earnest that shone from his eyes. He was so naive.

“Charles invited me to go to his church’s youth group,” I mimicked and shuddered.

“You okay?” Thomas asked.

“Oh, I’m dandy,” I replied sardonically. “But Marie-Claire wanted you to come over to her dorm room tonight. Something about old movies. She’d be so disappointed....”

Thomas’s eyes lit up brightly and he cut me off. “I’m sure Charles won’t be too offended if I don’t show up.”

“That a boy,” I murmured, patting him on the back. Of course, if there was one thing Thomas would choose over being polite and sociable, it was Marie-Claire. However, this didn’t address the Charles problem. That would fall to me.

After school let out for the day, I headed back to my dorm room. It was an odd sensation, since I usually only headed there with someone else and lately I’d just been going to Marie-Claire’s dorm room. I went inside and blanched at the sight. My entire bookcase had been overturned. When had that happened?

“Oh,” I murmured, smirking to myself. “Suzsana Dickerson.”

I grabbed a thin black shirt off the floor and sniffed it. Clean enough. I took off my uniform and pulled the shirt on over my head. I stared at the mirror for a moment before heading over to Charles’s dorm. At the moment, I had no intention of seducing with him, but looking nice around a deeply closeted gay boy had to help.

“Hello?” Charles said as he opened his door. When his eyes fell upon me, his lopsided smile turned to a blank look of disapproval.

“Long time, no see,” I exclaimed. His blank expression didn’t change. “We need to discuss some things.”

“No,” Charles replied, grabbing the doorknob. “We really don’t.” Just before he could pull the door closed, I slipped inside his dorm room.

“I don’t bug you a lot, do I?” I said, resting my hands on the top of my head. “I could. I could ruin you, frankly. But you decided to turn to Jesus or whatever, and I’m not going to waste my time wondering whether your “really” happy or just farther back in the closet. No offense.”

“Your point?” Charles said, crossing his arms across his chest. The boy has nice arms, I mused to myself.

“What?” I murmured, staring at his biceps. “Oh yes, I had a point. Don’t fuck with Thomas. He’s not going to join your cult.”

“What?” Charles sputtered.

“I mean, not to be conceited or anything, but the only reason that you’re even talking to him is that he associates with me and this makes you “fear for his soul” or whatever.”

“No,” Charles denied vehemently. “No, that’s not it at all. It’s just that I thought he might want to come.”

“Your church isn’t touching him,” I said. “I mean, does your church even know why you had your little spiritual awakening?”

“What?” I heard a voice say behind Charles. Artemis, who was simply wearing a towel, came out of Charles’s bathroom. “Beckingham,” Artemis stated coldly. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the very same...” I launched into.

“We were discussing our church,” Charles cut in and glared at me. Artemis laughed.

“You didn’t invite him to Youth Group, did you?” Artemis asked Charles. Charles simply shook his head, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. “Good, you’re not welcome.”

“And why the hell not?” I exclaimed, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Because God hates fags,” Artemis stated and glared at me.

“...And the French,” Charles added, trying to lighten up the situation. Artemis and I both stared at him blankly.

“The French?” Artemis asked.

“I mean, everybody hates the French,” he shrugged.

“Wasn’t Genevieve french?” I asked. Artemis laughed and Charles turned red.

“Well, I guess Genevieve won’t come either,” I said. “I’m sure you were used to that when you guys went out.”

Artemis looked at Charles quizzically and I turned to leave. When I got to the door, I turned around. “By the way, idiots. Premarital sex is a sin. See you in hell.”

“We didn’t...” Charles exclaimed, but by the time the rest of the sentence came out of his mouth, I had shut the door. I have a feeling Charles will stay away from Thomas.

Why Does It Rain, Rain, Rain Down On Utopia?

The past few weeks of my life have been perfect. I've been happy. I've been doing well in school. I've got great friends. I didn't have anything to worry. I guess I was blinded by happiness when I didn't realize that something bad would have been coming up.

I'm not sure if I would have expected this but I should have expected something. I could have seen it coming, I could have been aware. I would have been able to stop this. I guess it's just my fault then, isn't? I was so naive not to expect this. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

I guess I should fill you in, diary.

Yesterday morning, Oliver came knocking.

"It's such a nice Saturday," He said. "We should go do something."

"Well I've been meaning to go shopping for a while." I told him. "Would you like to join me?"

"I would be delighted, Ms. Genevieve," Oliver replied. I grabbed my purse and laced my arm through Oliver's.

We went down to the shoe store where Oliver helped me pick out a cute pair of flats. The right shoe had a pretty red rose crocheted into it. The yellow center seemed to burst out of the red, creating a bright golden color. They were made of a slightly itchy canvas fabric but they still looked great on my feet.

After a few more stops in various stores, Oliver and I stopped from lunch. We stopped at a cute little cafe called "Le Cafe de Soleil". The Sun Cafe. We sat outside in the bright sun, fitting for the cafe. The chairs were a black eetal, twisted into beautiful pictures of leaves and flowers. The table matched, the white napkins shining out against the black metal.

I ordered a salad while Oliver ordered a sandwich. It didn't take long for a food to arrive. It was usually quick, actually. My salad was cool and refreshing. It was perfect for the day.

"So," I began. "Why don't you like Thomas?"

"That little tosser?" Oliver retorted. "He's so naive and boring."

"Really?" I asked. "He's really a sweet guy. I thought you would have liked him."

"Ha!" He spat. "I still can't believe my dead even let that pauper into the school."

"He's an amazing violinist." I told Oliver. "He's first chair in the school orchestra. It's almost as if he's too good for first chair." My orchestra teacher loves Thomas. She wants to smother him to death. I used to be her favorite. But I don't blame her for loving Thomas because he's so adorable.

"Sound the trumpets! Alert the media! Organize a parade! Let's celebrate! Thomas is first chair in a school orchestra!" Oliver said sarcastically. "Whoop-di-fucking-doo."

"Is there another reason why you hate him?" I prodded.

"If I told you, you'd laugh at me." Oliver replied, suddenly sounding vulnerable.

"I wouldn't laugh. If you hate him this much, it's got to be serious." I informed Oliver.

"Promise you won't tell anyone?" Oliver asked.

"I swear I won't."

"Well, it's quite obvious that Xavier has taken an interest in Thomas." Oliver returned. "And I've taken an interest in Xavier."

"Xavier will get over Thomas soon enough. Once he's corrupted the poor bloke, Xavier won't give him another glance."

"It's going to take a long time to corrupt Thomas."

"Don't worry. You're an interesting guy. Once Xavier is done with Thomas, I'm sure you'll catch his eye next."

"I guess."

Once we finished lunch, Oliver told me he had to go back to the dorm to finish a paper. He asked if I wanted to return with him, but I answered no. I still had shopping to be done.

I headed to a dress shop near the cafe. I had an extra few hundred dollars I could spend, so why not get a dress? After half an hour and finding disappointing dress after disappointing dress, I came across my soulmate. It was a bright red baby doll dress. The top was strapless and had a beautiful pattern float across it. A red fabric belt split the top and the bottom and smooth and shiny.

When I tried it on, I looked gorgeous and mature. The fabric felt soft and silky on my skin and the absence os straps enhanced the dress. The top was a little tight but I felt like it was a perfect fit anyway.

I paid for the dress and decided it was time to go back to Inglefield. As I walked down the street, police cars and ambulances sped past me. I remember the annoying sirens whirring down the road, annoying me the entire.

I finally reached the destination of the emergency vehicles. At an intersection was a large crash involving at least five cars. People were crowding around the scene and I knew there was no way I was going to get through the chaos. I decided to take a different route. It was longer but it was definitely less crowded and more peaceful.

As I walked along the empty streets, I thought about Oliver. At that moment in time, his relationship issue was the most drama I had in my life. I like Thomas a lot but I've been friends with Oliver since I was a little kid. So of course I wish him well in his pursuits of Xavier. But i hope Xavier doesn't ruin Oliver's life. Xavier's not a straight laced school boy.

Abruptly I was wrenched from my thoughts when a cloth was shoved over my nose and mouth. An arm wrapped itself tightly around my arms. I tried to struggle but the fumes of some unidentifiable chemical on the cloth were making my world fuzzy and making it harder for me to fight back. Soon, I closed my eyes and fell unconscious.

When I woke up, I was in a shabby apartment bedroom. The dingy wallpaper was peeling off the walls and the small window barely let any light in. There was one bedside table, one chair and the bed I was on. My arms and legs were tied to the posts on the bed. The ropes rubbed my wrists and ankles raw every time I struggled. There were two doorways. One to the main room. The second door was closed.

I realized I felt extremely cold and when I looked down at my body, I saw that I was naked. I wanted to shriek and vomit at the same time. Panic began to rise within. Who had taken me? Where was I? What would happen to me?

The second door opened the slowly and a man stepped out of the room behind the door. He was tall and lean. He, too, wasn't wearing any clothes. I knew what was going to happen. There wasn't an escape. This man had obviously locked his eyes on me. I wanted to scream but my mouth wouldn't open. Every part of me was paralyzed and I was left helpless.

The man had blue eyes and black hair. He was pale with a square jaw. His expression looked cold and emotionless.

He crawled on top of the bed next to me. My heart beat faster with every movement he made. He laid his hand on my breast and massaged it. It felt like the worst feeling ever.

He crawled on top of me. "No... stop!" I begged.

"Be quiet." He ordered. I didn't register the words in my mind.

"Don't do this!" I yelled. "Please!"

He smacked me across the face. "I said be quiet." His face slowly moved towards mine. His lips met mine. I tried to keep my mouth closed, but his teeth clamped down on my lip. I opened my mouth quickly and let him move his tongue around on my teeth and down my throat. It felt sickening.

He began to gyrate and grind his body into mine. Tears streamed down my face. I couldn't believe it was happening. I couldn't even stop it.

Soon, I felt him... inside me. It hurt so much. It felt like I was going to rip in two as he forced himself upon me. He moaned disgustingly. I just wanted it all to end.

"Good job," He mumbled roughly and got off of me. He pulled on some clothes and grabbed a suitcase from his closet. And he left.

I sobbed for a while before I realized I was left alone, tied to a bed with no way to let anyone know where I was. For the first hour I wondered about how I would escape or who would save me. Then I started to think about how I would die. Would it be dehydration? Starvation?

I began to cry again, thinking about my inevitable death. I felt myself drifting off into sleep. I tried to fight, remembering the last time I closed my eyes I ended up in an unfamiliar apartment trapped with a rapist. But my eyes won and I fell asleep. I woke up to a pounding noise on the door.

"Open the damn door!" Someone shouted. I heard an aggravated sigh and a pause.

"Come in the room!" I wanted to shout. "Help!" But I felt the sting of the smack again and decided against, worried that the man would appear and hit me again.

I heard a door open. "Time to pay rent." I voice called. The bedroom door opened and I was face to face with a short, angry man. I regretted wanting him to come in. I didn't want him to look at me. Maybe he'd be compelled to rape me, too.

He whipped out his cellphone and called for help. Within ten minutes, the apartment was crawling with policemen and EMTs.

One EMT came over to me and untied my bonds. She then gave me a blanket and helped me onto a stretcher.

"I'm going to take you back to the hospital and we'll do a rape kit there." I flinched at the word rape. Rape made it sound like it was worse than it already was. The word rape just sounds so bad. It sounds like a monster. "Then we can have your parents come and take you home."

I nodded and she pushed me down to the ambulance. A police officer sat in the back with me, asking questions. I gave him a description of my attacker and recounted what had happened. It took me a while and I began to tear up again. I just wanted the officer to go away and I wanted to huddle up under a rock and die. But I knew I'd never be left alone if I didn't tell the officer now. I just didn't want to get into a fight. I didn't want to have my way.

After the very awkward and painful rape kit, a nurse called my mom.

"What's this about?" She demanded when she entered the examination room.

"Nothing, mother." I sighed. I would have waited there for hours if it meant waiting for my dad. Or maybe I should have given the nurse Abbot's name. Anyone but my mom. I would have let Xavier come get me if it meat my mom didn't have to come.

"No. You will tell me." She ordered. "I get a call out of the blue that I needed to pick up my daughter from the emergency room while I'm consulting with a very important paying customer. I want to know why."

She would have at least known I was attacked if she had actually looked at my swollen lip and the bruise on my face.

"I hurt myself falling down." I lied.

"That doesn't warrant a trip to the emergency room."

"I thought I hurt my ankle and I wanted to get it checked out."

"It's obviously fine. You can't catch a cab back to Inglefield? Cut the bullshit, Genevieve."

"I was attacked." I told her.

"Okay, now you're really lying."

"I was kidnapped and attacked, mom!" I cried.

"By whom?"

"I don't know. The police are searching for him." I told her, the waterworks starting. Again. "I just want to go back to Inglefield. Please take me there."

"Come on," She commanded. A few minutes after we began driving, my mom spoke. "When they get this guy, I'll hire the best lawyer, alright?"

"Great," I told her in a monotone voice.

"I'm just trying to help. You don't have to be so rude."

I didn't say anything. I didn't want to get mad at her. I didn't want to fight. I just wanted to go home and sleep.

Mother dropped me off at the front of the girls' dormitory. I quickly raced to my room, avoiding everyone at all costs. The first thing that day went right when I reached my room and Alice wasn't in.

I got into my pajamas and crawled into my bed. It was half nine. The day had seemed longer. I felt as if it was one in the morning.

As I fell asleep, I prayed that I would wake up in the same bed. I prayed even harder that I wouldn't wake up at all. I didn't want to wake up and relive it all again. I didn't want to think about him. I didn't want to think about how I'll never be the same again. And I don't want to face everyone else. They may not know what exactly happened, but they'll figure it out. And then they'll talk about it all the time.

I want to be left alone. I want to sleep forever, safe from anything that can break me down.