( This chapter contains scenes of: sexual content involving elements of coercion or unclear consent, emotional manipulation,
trauma from past sexual abuse, descriptions that may be disturbing or triggering to some readers.
Please read with caution.)
Malachai hadn't replied to any of my messages in over a week.
When I tried calling him, he wouldn't pick up, and the thought that he might have only wanted to use my body made me want to throw up everything I'd eaten that day.
After leaving me outside on the porch when the temperature had dropped close to freezing, I got sick.
It wasn't anything serious, but I stayed home longer and didn't go to school.
Halloween was slowly approaching, and I wanted to spend the day watching horror movies or talking with my mom, wrapped in a blanket on the bed, sipping hot tea I had made for us.
She really likes when I'm the one preparing it, because then she gets to choose the music or the movie. I was curious what this year's Halloween would look like.
Lately, I'd been thinking more and more about modeling — an idea that's been stuck in my head ever since Jeremy said it out loud.
Those compliments, that honest statement, had taken root in my heart and never left.
I took some pictures of myself to see if it could actually be true — but in every new shot, all I saw was a creature with a huge double chin and a distorted face.
My skin looked old and dry, like a run-over cat on a highway. It didn't seem elastic. It didn't… feel like me.
While I was staring at the photos, my phone rang.
Malachai.
I answered quickly — maybe too quickly. Maybe I should've waited a moment.
I couldn't just hit the green button right away after he'd ignored me for a whole week.
But what if I didn't pick up in time, and when I called him back, he lost interest and didn't answer?
"Hello?" I said.
On the other end, I heard heavy breathing, growing louder with each of my nervous little stutters.
"Mike?" he asked.
"Yes?"
Silence.
After a long pause, he asked:
"Wanna come over?"
***
I lay naked on his bed. We were alone in the house. His parents had gone to visit his aunt for two weeks because she needed help with everyday activities. She couldn't do it alone because she broke her leg, and she lives alone, and no one could help her.
"Have you tried this?"
Malachai pressed two fingers together and dipped them in lubricant. He touched my chest, leaving a trace of lubricant on it, then moved lower and lower, sliding his fingers inside. I immediately arched, feeling a slight arousal that gradually grew, as did the discomfort. I had an erection like Malachai had never seen.
He shifted to the side and pushed his fingers deeper, smiling at me. With one hand, he pulled off his shirt exposing his body. My mouth opened involuntarily and I moaned.
He began moving his fingers faster and faster, and the lubricant began to drip onto the blanket, leaving small, messy stains.
"Do you like it?" he asked.
I gasped. I looked him straight in the eyes, still panting.
I nodded yes.
He pulled his fingers out of me and rolled me onto my back. I was now lying straight across from his door, facing his large TV and game console. A heater was on next to him, making it increasingly warmer.
He crushed me under his weight and pressed his body into me.
He made one move forward, and I screamed.
"Don't scream," he replied.
"Ah."
He pushed deeper, and my stomach felt like it was going to explode. My ass slammed against his waist, faster and faster with each passing minute.
It wasn't like earlier in the car, or like when Joshua, James, and Ryan forced me to perform oral sex. It was different with Malachai. He didn't treat me like they did, but I felt nothing for him. No love.
"You're so tight," he said, panting.
He brushed his hair from his hand. He squeezed it hard, until it hurt.
"You're different," I whispered. "Please, don't change, please."
"Shut up, be quiet for a second."
He wasn't listening. I thought he was going to answer, but he responded with a much harder thrust that hurt. My eyes glazed over, my body began to ache more and more, and my erection disappeared completely.
"Oh, fuck," he says. He stood up and grabbed my legs. We were in a position where I should have been hugging him passionately, but I wasn't. He just kept fucking me, holding my ass. My erection returned immediately.
The next hard thrusts were more intense and unpleasant. He bit my ear, making me slap his cheek. He looked at me like he wanted to kill me, but he didn't do anything and continued.
An unfamiliar anxiety settled on my back, a warm trickle of sweat dripping from my forehead onto his shoulder.
"I don't think James would be happy if he saw this," he whispered in my ear.
In any other situation, I would have reacted completely differently than I do now. Why did he say his name? What's the point, and why would he be so displeased?
Malachai knows something and hasn't told me. I'm afraid to ask what exactly he means.
"You're mine."
He said through gritted teeth. The words sent goosebumps up my spine.
I continued panting, my eyes rolling back, and goo shot from my penis.
I coated his stomach with my substance.
"Fuck," his legs began to tremble as he pounded me harder and harder, coming in the blink of an eye.
"Fuck," he repeated.
And the phrase kept echoing in my head:
"I don't think James would be happy if he saw this."