Needing Adelaide | ✓

43 ~ Let her go

*TW/ gun violence*

Jonathan

       Bree uses her empty hand to push my bangs back and away from my eyes. Her knee brushes my dick and she hums in satisfaction when I flinch. Not because it felt good, not a chance in hell. But because my body, brain, and heart are telling me to get as far away from this woman as possible. Only the gun pressed to the side of my head is making that impossible.

There may be rumors about me being involved in gangs and holding people at gun point but unfortunately for me I know jack shit about firearms. Other than movies, I've never seen someone effectively disarm an emotional girl swinging a gun around like it's a toy. It's not a toy. That much I know.

However, I do need to get her to stop. Distract her somehow. Even with a gun to my head, I won't let her touch me. And I think me throwing up midway through will offend her even more.

Bree begins to flick her eyes from my mouth and eyes, the way people do when they're expecting a kiss. She starts to lean down so I reflexively back away. The gun hovers just in front of my face, where it was placed before I moved and Bree's hand drops from my hair.

"What are you doing?" Bree seethes, anger hardening her swollen face.

I shift my body as I think of an excuse. A sudden question leaves my mouth on a breath, "You're going to force me to have sex with you?"

Her nostrils flare and she backs away, "You make it sound like this is rape."

I don't say anything and she scoffs, "Are you serious right now? We just have to get you hard then you'll be begging to stick it in. Plus you could always say no."

I feel my face twist in disbelief. She sounds just like those misogynistic "alpha males" who have sex with half conscious girls at parties. Rape. There are many disgusting excuses for it and she just said them. As usual she doesn't see how in the wrong she is. My leg continues it's fidgeting and I suspect it's my bodies way to release the extreme stress. It's better than a panic attack. Bree doesn't know about them and she doesn't need to know.

"Can I?" I glance from the gun to her, "Say no?"

Bree scoffs, another tear falling from her eye, "You can. But.." She lifts the gun and jiggles it, the parts clanking against each other, the noise a morbid reminder of my situation. "Do you want to?"

My throat convulses on a breath as I decide to say something stupid. "I don't want to have sex. I can't." It's physically impossible. With her anyway.

Both her hands go to her face and she spins around. Her back is to me for a split second before turning back around, the gun pointed at me once again. If I was thinking more clearly that could've been an opportunity. "You're not fucking impotent! What do you mean you can't?" She yells, motioning to my crotch with the gun. She sneers, "I said if you do I'll leave and delete the pictures. Did you not hear me?"

"What will you do if I don't?" I nod to the gun. "You want to go to jail for murder?" I'm getting bold. Hopefully this doesn't backfire.

She moves to my side in a blink, the gun sending a sharp pain through my head as she digs it into my temple. I hold my breath, not wanting to know what will happen if I close my eyes. "If I kill you," her voice is shaking, more tears falling from her eyes. She withdrawals the gun and taps it to her temple, "I die too."