Believe Me ✔️

[18] That Night

⚠️trigger warning: sexual assault⚠️

The door creaks open.

I struggle to sit up and shift the weight of my body to my left side. The door scrapes against the floor, harder and louder, and the horrible sound pinches my ears. A shadow steps inside the room. I rub my eyes and try to adjust to the dark. Is it Tyler? "W-What are... you... doing h-here?" My words come out in slurs as my head drops with the weight of a bowling ball. The shadow takes another step and my head jerks up, squinting to see my unwanted company. Moonlight pours in through the purple-silk curtains and his heavy boots echo in his footsteps as the light luminates his face.

What is Paul doing here?

I hear the soft tick of the lock turning. The edge of the bed dips under Paul's weight. My heart races faster and faster. I don't want him here. As I try to move away, he shoves a fist in my shoulder and forces me down into the bed. He's on top of me now and anchors me down, crushing me. He's crushing me and it hurts, my ribs hurt. I push against Paul with an open fist and in one swift second my wrists are pinned over my head. "S-Stop," I beg, my lungs burning and chest aching. "Please stop."

What is he doing to me?

"Shut up," Paul growls as he tugs my shorts down.

"No! Get off—" I'm silenced with a cold hand and I scream into his open palm, begging him to get off and begging him to leave and begging him to stop. I bite his hand, pinching his skin, and he jerks his hand back to slap me. Tears pour down my face and cry out as Paul's hand forces my thighs apart.

"Fucking shut up!" Paul rips off my underwear and shoves them in my mouth to gag me. I fight with silent screams as I struggle underneath him. His face gets closer to mine and I headbutt him, immediately regretting the headache, and pull out a free arm. I scratch his face, digging my nails into his eyes, and manage to push him off. I use what little energy I have to crawl, and I scream as he grabs a fistful of my hair and drags me back, slapping my face and forcing my head back into the pillow. "Stop moving and it'll be quick."

I don't want it to be quick.

I don't want this.

I want it to stop.

My cheeks burn hot with fresh tears and I focus on something other than the pain. Focus on something else. Focus on a constant instead of the moment. It'll pass. My vision blurs as I look around the room. Baby blue walls. White, bulky dresser. Pink Barbie lamp. The red glow from my alarm clock blinks at me: 2:43 AM. I close my eyes as my chest tightens and I can't breathe anymore.

Stop. Just stop. God, make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Please. I don't want this. Why are you doing this to me? Why? God, please help me!

My mind shuts down and I lay still, a slight ringing echoing in my ears. I'm not here. Paul's not here. I'm not in my bedroom. He's not real. This isn't real. I'm dreaming. This is a nightmare.

This is only a nightmare.