James

I met James when I wasfourteen years old. He was friends with my cousins, and I was introduced to himat a big summer party they were throwing. He was fifteen at the time. We hadtalked for most of the party. I opened up to him, a complete stranger. But Ihad trusted him. The end of the party was nearing, and the venue’s DJ had puton a slower song. I watched as couples, or friends at that, pair together anddance. James had turned to me and held his hand out, flashing me a charmingsmile. He asked me to dance, and I said yes. What could go wrong with dancing?

He kissed my cheek at theend of the song and we exchanged numbers. We texted non-stop, and ourconversations got personal. I told him about my depression, and my abusivemother, and he told me about his anxiety. We had a lot in common. The nextweek, his older brother was having a party of his own. He had told James thathe could have a few friends over, so he invited me. I was excited to go, sinceit was a more formal party. The boys were wearing nice shirts and slacks, andthe girls had on dresses. I wore my favorite dress, had my sister braid my hairnicely, and my makeup was almost perfect. Frankly, I looked good.

When James saw me, he wassurprised. He loved my look, and I could tell. I kept blushing throughout thenight, and James noticed. His hand rested on my thigh or my knee, but I didn’thave the heart to tell him to knock it off. He kept kissing my arm or my cheek,and I was feeling warm. He took my hand and led me into the bathroom. I wasconfused, but didn’t protest, once again.

He suddenly kissed me, andalthough it wasn’t my first kiss, it felt like it. Next thing lead to anotherand his hands were creeping up my thigh. They snuck into my panties and Iremember tensing up. I didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop, though. Hekept kissing me while his fingers went inside of me. I didn’t like it, not atall. It felt gross and uncomfortable. I tried to tell him to stop, but hewasn’t listening. He thought it was feeling good. After a while, he pulled hisfingers out of me and apologized quietly. He leaned in for a kiss and I brushedpast him. I wouldn’t kiss him, not after that. But he got angry at me andgrabbed my arm. He shoved me against the counter, and I felt my back crack.

He was angry, and fearscattered across my face. My knee was between his pants and I felt hishardness. I was scared. I thought he was going to rape me. I cried out, andsuddenly he let go of me. His face softened and he apologized. I turned my backto him and managed to get out of the bathroom. I hid from him for the rest ofthe party, and got in the car so quickly when my brother picked me up. Iblocked his number and all of his social media, but I will never forget him.

I will never forget James.