Silk Ribbons & Hyacinths

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TW: Sexual Assault.

The light in the closet cuts through the silk of darkness.

The shadows drape the room—over the furniture, the walls, the floors—and hug the two figures on the small bed on the floor.

I am the smaller figure.

Blankets skew the mattress, ignored.

His breath is hot on my neck, His body pressed against mine. It's hot between our bodies, and I can feel His heart pounding against my chest.

He presses Himself closer, legs brushing against mine, intertwining. The darkness stirs, and I look up into His eyes, meeting dark, hollow black.

He smiles and glances down at my lips.

My body begins to shake, nerves thrumming through me. My arm around His body falters, and then His hand slides up the side of my waist. Big, strong, warm—thick fingers pressing into my flesh.

Bile rises in my throat. My heart kicks up—I can't feel my body.

"Have you ever... kissed someone before?" I breathed, the words shaking past my lips.

He runs His hand up and down my side, the warmth bleeding through His fingers like sludge. It infects my blood, my core.

When I asked that question... did it mean I said yes?

He leans closer, His head brushing against the pillow. He always looked like a demon, up close. Disgusting and distorted, with a face as malleable as grime.

"I kissed Elaine," he muttered softly, breath rank against my face. "But... that doesn't count."

He pulls me flush against Him, and my breath catches. Something screams in the back of my head, saying wrong, wrong, wrong.

I want to push Him away. I want Him to let me go. My body is shaking, and His hands are tighter, and bruisingly warm—like lava—

His head inches closer, and he gazed at me with those tar-black eyes.

No.

I do nothing but lay there as He kisses me.

His lips press against mine, chapped and dry. My heart collides in my chest, the voice in my head screaming.

This isn't right, it said. This isn't right.

I did nothing.

I didn't say yes.

But I didn't say no, either... did I?

He kisses me again. And again. Lips flush into mine, hard, pressing—and His hand—that godawful hand—curling around my waist, feeling me, so hot, too hot—I don't want this. Please, God—God? Are you there?

He pulls me closer, hips flush against mine.

I'm so small against him, my body like a rabbit curled into a wolf.

He kisses me again.

I feel weak. Helpless.

I can't do anything.

After a while, I pull away, gazing into his eyes. He leans forward, shadows across his face, but I bow my head before he can kiss me again.

His hand tightens around my waist, finger sliding under my shirt.

He doesn't kiss me anymore, but we still lie there, legs intertwined, bodies pressed so close. His heart pounds against mine, the beat thick.

I feel sick inside.

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