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He drove east of town, all the way out in the desert past Mustang.
After a couple of snorts, he was all hands, all over me.
When I told him to stop, he said, “It’s a long walk back,
even if you don’t get lost. Anyway we both know what kind
of a girl you are.”
That stung, but not much. All I could do was ask for more
crank so maybe I could halfway enjoy it. I didn’t. He was dirty.
Smelly like he hadn’t showered in days.
And after he started, he got mean.
He did things to me—terrible things, I’ve still got the scars—
things no sane person would ever do. Of course,
he wasn’t exactly sane.
Afterward, neither was I.
Now, You Might Think
an experience like that
would serve as a stern
warning, make a person
do a quick about-face and
sprint in the other direction.
Didn’t happen like
that for Robyn.
Didn’t happen like
that for me.
Before I Met the Monster
But Now Nothing
Problem Number One: School
Getting up in the morning,
was it only moments after finally falling
into a state of semisleep?
Finding clean clothes
