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The night of my high school graduation, my fate with Jim was sealed. Things hadn’t really changed much after he got me blackout drunk. He continued to play his games, giving me just enough of his attention to leave me wanting more.
Before the party, I took extra care in getting ready. Curled my hair, put on makeup, and even wore a dress. Jim called me beautiful, and I wanted to live up to his compliment—to feel worthy of it. He never showed up, though. At least not until the very end. It was late, and I was drunk. Again.
I’m not entirely sure how he ended up driving me home—why I hadn’t simply stayed the night at my sister’s. Maybe the idea had been planted in her head. Or maybe I wanted an excuse to spend time with him.
Either way, it’s a decision that will forever haunt me.
He was quiet during the drive, but I never suspected anything was off—that he was planning something. Until the Jeep came to a stop, and I realized we weren’t at my house. I asked him what we were doing, why he hadn’t taken me home, the fear in my veins audible in my voice.
“I thought we could talk,” he said.
The conversation started out like many before, him asking how I was doing and how things were going with Allen. I don’t know when things took a turn. There might have been a question about me having an interest in any other boys. All of that is a bit of a blur, but the next part is crystal fucking clear.
“Why don’t you think you deserve better than the likes of Allen?” he asked.
I shrugged and turned away, looking out the passenger side window as my eyes began to water. He reached over and placed his hand under my chin, urging me to look at him again.
“Tell me what you don’t like about yourself.”
Of course, I tried to refuse. The last thing I wanted to do was point out all my flaws, not to him or anyone. But he wasn’t letting it go, and I merely wanted the conversation to be over.
“I’m too tall,” I said.
“That’s a good thing, no guy likes bending down to kiss a girl.”
“I’m too pale,” I said.
“Your skin is incredible. You have a glowing complexion.”
“My eyes, I hate my eyes. They’re tiny and brown,” I said.
He leaned in closer and cupped my face, holding my gaze hostage. “Your eyes are beautiful. You. Are. Beautiful.”
He sighed as his eyelids fell, resting his forehead on mine. I remember the way his breath felt as it brushed against my lips. My heart was in my stomach by the time he opened them again, his stare screaming out his intentions. He said all the things I always longed to hear and was looking at me in a way that no one ever had before, but I knew the moment was too intimate. He was my sister’s boyfriend. It was wrong and needed to be stopped, but I froze.
“You should know by now that my words are sincere. You should know how I feel about you—how badly I want to kiss you right now.”
He admitted it, said the words out loud, and it lit a fire under me. I pulled out of his embrace and crushed my body against the passenger side door, shaking my head. He shouldn’t have been saying or thinking that, and I told him as much. But Jim was a master manipulator and quickly twisted things until I felt bad for my reaction.
“You must think I’m a horrible person,” he said. When I tried to deny it, he told me I should, that he felt horrible for wanting to kiss me—for trying to kiss me. “We’ve grown so close, and I care about you so much. My feelings for you are all mixed up.”
That was something I could understand. The way I felt about him was complicated at best, completely screwed up at worst. Before I knew it, I found myself comforting him and excusing his appalling behavior—telling him it was okay.
This is where he tested me, and I failed. He asked if I wanted him to tell Nicole about everything that happened. There are no words to describe the sheer panic and utter dread that filled me in that moment. The thought of my sister knowing, of her hurting because of me, was more than I could stand. A big part of me feared that she’d blame me for all of it. Maybe because I felt so responsible. That’s why I told him no.
“Nothing happened, she doesn’t need to know,” I said. “You can’t do that, though. We can’t cross that line.”
“Kissing your girlfriend’s sister is crossing the line, got it,” he joked.
It was a relief that we were laughing about the uncomfortable situation, and my intoxicated brain didn’t think very carefully before I responded.
“You’ve already kissed me four times,” I said. “Once on my cheek, once right here, and twice on the forehead. You just aren’t allowed to kiss me on the mouth.”
His laughter caused warning bells to ring in my mind. It was sinister, the smile that followed cunning. “You’ve been counting my kisses?”
I nodded and watched as he slowly moved closer. He began planting kisses all over my face and neck. I squirmed to get away, but he climbed into the passenger seat, letting the seat back as he straddled me.
He had me pinned, and any humor I found in the beginning of his little game had evaporated into shock and terror.
