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I hold her lithe body in my arms as she snuggles closer. “Let me grab you water and a snack.” I go to move, but she clings tighter. Sensing that she doesn’t want me to leave her right now, I gently ask, “Any particular reason for that fantasy?”
She looks up at me, her face guarded. Finally, she whispers, “I was raped as a teen; a guy I was hanging out with at a party…” She trails off, and I don’t think she’s going to tell me more, but she says, “I know it sounds fucked up, but it felt good to act that out.” She pauses, whispering, “Like I got to rewrite what happened; with me having control this time, being with someone I trust.”
“Not fucked up,” I assure her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you beforehand. I’ve never told anyone other than Taylor about what happened that night,” she admits.
“You didn’t tell Darius?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
She shakes her head. “I could have told my cousin; I’m sure he would have beat the shit out of the guy—or worse—but I was ashamed,” she whispers. “There was a lot of blame I placed on myself. I was drunk and went to the bedroom with him.…”
I go to correct her, but she presses her finger to my lips. “Misplaced blame. It wasn’t my fault, and I get that now. I spent a couple of years in therapy sorting through it all.” She buries her face in the crook of my arm as I wrap a curl around my finger. “Anyway, I thought if you knew I’d been raped, it would’ve made my fantasy weird, and you’d say no.”
“Kitty Kat,” I say, gently cupping her cheeks so I can see her gorgeous face. “You’d be hard-pressed to find anything I would deny you.” Kissing her gently, I pull back, swiping with my thumb a few tears falling from her eyes. “Besides, I already knew.”
“What?” she asks, pulling back and looking into my eyes.
Fabio, seventeen-years old
Even though I’ll never have Katerina, that hasn’t stopped me from torturing myself every time I’m in AC for family business.
I follow Katerina and her friend Taylor to a house down the shore with cars packed like sardines in the yard. Music blares from the back deck; someone’s crashed their folks’ vacation house.
Watching the girls walk inside, I’m about to follow when my pager goes off. Cursing at the message, I throw my car into reverse and head back to Sergio’s to pick up a delivery.
By the time that’s taken care of, I return to the party about an hour later. Taylor’s car is still here, and so I park and enter the house, the bass of the speakers rattling the walls.
Someone hands me a beer, and I accept it so as to not draw attention to myself. “Thanks.” Pulling my baseball cap lower on my head, I make my way through the crowd of drunk high schoolers in the living room. I just want to keep an eye on Katerina to make sure she’s safe, and then I’ll bounce. Sure, I risk her spotting me, but it’s doubtful she could pick me out of a lineup, so I take the chance.
Taylor’s making out in the corner with a guy, but I don’t see Katerina. Pushing my way through the crowd, I wait in line for the bathroom, hoping she’s using the toilet.
The door opens, and two drunk girls—neither Katerina—exit, and so I continue my search. I step out onto the back patio, finding a group of guys smoking cigarettes around a keg. My ears perk up when I hear someone say Kat. I pour out my beer before sidling up to the group.
“Can I get a refill?” I ask the guy in charge of the keg. Handing him my cup, he fills it, returning it to me “Thanks, man.”
“No problem. You go to North Side?”
“Yeah,” I lie. “What was that about Kat? She’s a hot piece of ass,” I comment.
“Man, you don’t want those sloppy seconds,” he says, and his buddies snicker.
“Damn. Who got there first?” I ask calmly, trying not to let my hands shake with rage.
“Oliver fucking Ellington. That’s who. Oliver!” The keg guy calls over my shoulder.
A guy struts over, acting like he’s king around here.
“Hey, man. Heard you just fucked Kat,” the keg guy says.
“You know it,” he says with a cocky grin, and the guys high five each other. “She’s dressed like such a whore, all over me, then acts surprised when I take her to the bedroom to get my dick wet. Her drunk ass was crying and shit, and then she fucking puked all over the bed.”
“Hate a sloppy bitch,” I comment.
“The worst,” Oliver agrees, having no idea he’s a dead man.
Trying to play it cool, I make my way through the house—blood pounding in my ears so loudly I can’t hear the music. I take the stairs two at a time, opening doors until I find her. A rage unlike anything I’ve ever felt before fills my veins when I find Katerina passed out face down on a vomit-covered bed.
Checking her pulse, I release a jagged breath—she’s alive. My hands shake as I go through her purse and grab her phone, texting Taylor she needs help.
