I want to tell him to stop, but it’s all happening so fast, I can’t find a point at which to push him away. His hand is unbuttoning my jeans, and he’s working his fingers inside my underwear when I can’t take a second more of this. I dig my heels into my mattress and push him away as I attempt to scoot up on the bed.
He pulls away for a few seconds and looks at me, but words fail to come out of my mouth. When I say nothing, his mouth is immediately on mine again with even more force. He didn’t get a verbal no, so I guess that means yes to him.
I press against his chest. “Trey, stop.”
He immediately stops kissing me and presses his face into the pillow. He groans, frustrated, and I don’t know what to say next. I just made him angry.
His hand is still in my jeans, and even though I’m not kissing him, he continues to slide his hand further until I have to physically push his hand away. He presses his palm into the bed beside me and lifts up until his face is just inches from mine. His eyes are full of anger, but it’s not the anger that scares me.
It’s the disgust.
“You can fuck my little brother when you’re fifteen, but you can’t fuck me as an adult?”
His words hurt. They hurt so much, I have to close my eyes and turn away from him.
“I didn’t fuck Adam,” I say. I slowly look in his direction again, and I stare him straight in the eyes. “I made love to Adam.”
He lowers his face until his mouth is directly over my ear. The heat from his breath makes my skin crawl. “What was it when Owen was fucking you in his bed? Was that love?”
I suck in a rush of air.
My entire body tenses, and I know if I try to run, he’ll stop me. I also know that if I don’t try to run, he’ll more than likely hurt me.
I’ve never been more scared.
He remains on top of me, his mouth poised next to my ear. He doesn’t speak again, but he doesn’t have to. His hand is making his intentions clear as he works his way inside my jeans again.
For a split second, I wonder if I should let him do this. If I just shut up and allow him to take what he wants, maybe it’ll be enough for him to forgive what happened with Owen. I can’t let this come between me and my son.
But those thoughts only last for a split second, because there is no way in hell I’ll allow AJ to grow up with a spineless mother.
“Get off me.”
He doesn’t. Instead, he lifts his head and looks down at me with a grin so cold, it sends a rush of chills over me. I don’t know who he is right now. I’ve never seen this side of him before. “Trey, please.”
His hand is rough, and I’m squeezing my legs together, but it doesn’t stop him from forcing my thighs apart. I’m pushing him, but my weakness is laughable compared to his strength. His mouth is back on mine and when I try to turn away from him, he bites my lip, forcing his kiss on me.
I can taste the blood.
I begin to sob as soon as he begins unbuttoning his own jeans.
This isn’t happening.
“She said stop.”
It’s not my voice, and it isn’t Trey’s, but the words force him to stop. I glance up to find Emory standing in the doorway, pointing a gun in our direction. Trey slowly turns to face the door. When he sees her, he carefully rolls onto his back with his palms face out.
“You do realize you’re pointing a gun at a police officer,” Trey says calmly.
Emory laughs. “You do realize I’m stopping an assault, don’t you?”
He sits up, slowly, and she raises the gun even higher, keeping it trained on him.
“I don’t know what you think is going on here, but if you don’t hand me that gun, you’ll be in a shitload of trouble.”
Emory looks at me but keeps the gun aimed at Trey. “Who do you think will be in trouble, Auburn? The officer who was forcing himself on you or the roommate who shot his dick off?”
Luckily her question was rhetorical, because I’m crying too hard to answer. Trey runs his palm over his mouth and then squeezes his jaw, attempting to figure out how to get out of the mess he’s just put himself in.
Emory focuses her attention back on him. “You’re going to walk out of this apartment and all the way to the end of the hallway. I’ll set your gun and your keys on the hallway floor once you’re out of reach.”
I can feel Trey look at me, but I don’t look at him. I can’t. He runs a gentle hand up my arm. “Auburn, you know I would never hurt you. Tell her she’s confused.” I can feel him reach up to my face, but Emory’s voice stops him.
“Get. The fuck. Out!” she yells.
Once again, Trey raises his palms in the air. He stands, slowly, and buttons his jeans. He bends to grab his shoes.
“Leave them. Get out,” Emory says firmly.
She slowly backs out of the doorway as he makes his way toward her. I watch the back of his head as he turns toward the front door and Emory follows him.
“All the way to the end of the hall,” she says.
Several more seconds pass before she says, “Throw me his shoes, Auburn.”
I reach across the bed and grab his shoes from the floor. I walk them to her and watch as she sets his shoes outside of our front door. She keeps a close eye on Trey at the end of the hallway as she lays the gun beside the shoes. As soon as it’s out of her hands, she slams the door shut and dead bolts it, then fastens the chain lock. I’m now standing in the doorway of my bedroom, watching to make sure he’s gone. She turns to face me, wide-eyed.
He pulls away for a few seconds and looks at me, but words fail to come out of my mouth. When I say nothing, his mouth is immediately on mine again with even more force. He didn’t get a verbal no, so I guess that means yes to him.
I press against his chest. “Trey, stop.”
He immediately stops kissing me and presses his face into the pillow. He groans, frustrated, and I don’t know what to say next. I just made him angry.
His hand is still in my jeans, and even though I’m not kissing him, he continues to slide his hand further until I have to physically push his hand away. He presses his palm into the bed beside me and lifts up until his face is just inches from mine. His eyes are full of anger, but it’s not the anger that scares me.
It’s the disgust.
“You can fuck my little brother when you’re fifteen, but you can’t fuck me as an adult?”
His words hurt. They hurt so much, I have to close my eyes and turn away from him.
“I didn’t fuck Adam,” I say. I slowly look in his direction again, and I stare him straight in the eyes. “I made love to Adam.”
He lowers his face until his mouth is directly over my ear. The heat from his breath makes my skin crawl. “What was it when Owen was fucking you in his bed? Was that love?”
I suck in a rush of air.
My entire body tenses, and I know if I try to run, he’ll stop me. I also know that if I don’t try to run, he’ll more than likely hurt me.
I’ve never been more scared.
He remains on top of me, his mouth poised next to my ear. He doesn’t speak again, but he doesn’t have to. His hand is making his intentions clear as he works his way inside my jeans again.
For a split second, I wonder if I should let him do this. If I just shut up and allow him to take what he wants, maybe it’ll be enough for him to forgive what happened with Owen. I can’t let this come between me and my son.
But those thoughts only last for a split second, because there is no way in hell I’ll allow AJ to grow up with a spineless mother.
“Get off me.”
He doesn’t. Instead, he lifts his head and looks down at me with a grin so cold, it sends a rush of chills over me. I don’t know who he is right now. I’ve never seen this side of him before. “Trey, please.”
His hand is rough, and I’m squeezing my legs together, but it doesn’t stop him from forcing my thighs apart. I’m pushing him, but my weakness is laughable compared to his strength. His mouth is back on mine and when I try to turn away from him, he bites my lip, forcing his kiss on me.
I can taste the blood.
I begin to sob as soon as he begins unbuttoning his own jeans.
This isn’t happening.
“She said stop.”
It’s not my voice, and it isn’t Trey’s, but the words force him to stop. I glance up to find Emory standing in the doorway, pointing a gun in our direction. Trey slowly turns to face the door. When he sees her, he carefully rolls onto his back with his palms face out.
“You do realize you’re pointing a gun at a police officer,” Trey says calmly.
Emory laughs. “You do realize I’m stopping an assault, don’t you?”
He sits up, slowly, and she raises the gun even higher, keeping it trained on him.
“I don’t know what you think is going on here, but if you don’t hand me that gun, you’ll be in a shitload of trouble.”
Emory looks at me but keeps the gun aimed at Trey. “Who do you think will be in trouble, Auburn? The officer who was forcing himself on you or the roommate who shot his dick off?”
Luckily her question was rhetorical, because I’m crying too hard to answer. Trey runs his palm over his mouth and then squeezes his jaw, attempting to figure out how to get out of the mess he’s just put himself in.
Emory focuses her attention back on him. “You’re going to walk out of this apartment and all the way to the end of the hallway. I’ll set your gun and your keys on the hallway floor once you’re out of reach.”
I can feel Trey look at me, but I don’t look at him. I can’t. He runs a gentle hand up my arm. “Auburn, you know I would never hurt you. Tell her she’s confused.” I can feel him reach up to my face, but Emory’s voice stops him.
“Get. The fuck. Out!” she yells.
Once again, Trey raises his palms in the air. He stands, slowly, and buttons his jeans. He bends to grab his shoes.
“Leave them. Get out,” Emory says firmly.
She slowly backs out of the doorway as he makes his way toward her. I watch the back of his head as he turns toward the front door and Emory follows him.
“All the way to the end of the hall,” she says.
Several more seconds pass before she says, “Throw me his shoes, Auburn.”
I reach across the bed and grab his shoes from the floor. I walk them to her and watch as she sets his shoes outside of our front door. She keeps a close eye on Trey at the end of the hallway as she lays the gun beside the shoes. As soon as it’s out of her hands, she slams the door shut and dead bolts it, then fastens the chain lock. I’m now standing in the doorway of my bedroom, watching to make sure he’s gone. She turns to face me, wide-eyed.
