Year One, Part Three
Those words echoed in my head for months after that, things only got worse. He held me down and slapped me, calling me names I’d never heard before. He rolled me onto my stomach and told me to keep quiet. He’d grabbed a knife from his dresser and put in on the night stand. He’d also grabbed a few belts and started tieing them to the bedframe. He screamed at me to get on my back and take off my clothes, if I didn’t do it fast enough he’d to it for me and I’d regret it. I hurried as fast as I could but he was already upset with me. He jumped on the bed and punched me as hard as he could in the stomach, grabbed my shirt, ripped it and pulled it over my head. My pants were next and they were off just as fast. He cut my underwear off with the knife, nicking my skin several times and smiling each time, my bra came off when he tore off my shirt. I begged for him to stop but he told me “shut the fuck up whore” everytime I opened my mouth. He tied my hands to two belts, tugging them to make sure I couldn’t get away. After that, he tied my legs to the frame as well, higher up towards the middle so my legs would stay spread. He undressed and stood at the end of the bed staring at me. He repeated the phrase “you like being filthy whore don’t you?” and “how can you stand being so fat and ugly?”. Z grabbed his knife before laying next to me on the bed. I started to cry when he jammed the tip in my leg and twisted slightly. It didn’t go in far enough for stitches but it still bled pretty good. He took the knife from my thigh and looked carefully at the blood, he wiped it on my cheek and told me how beautiful I looked covered in my own blood. He got up and sat on the chair across the room, looking out the window at his “friends” on the lawn.
There was a knock at the door and he told them to go away. He came back over to the bed and got on top of me. Licking the blood off my thigh and running his tongue to my chest. He bit down as hard as he could on my left nipple that I had honestly thought he was going to bite it off. Somone knocked on the door again and he screamed at them that they should go fuck themselves. They knocked again, this time he got up off the bed, grabbed the knife and went to the door. I couldn’t hear them whispering but I knew it wasn’t good. Z grabbed his clothes, put them on and told me not to make a sound. He left and locked the door behind him. F knocked on the door and asked if I was still in there. I was frozen, I’m not supposed to answer. F tried the lock but couldn’t open the door. Z came through the door, stripped once again and got on top of me. He said he was going to untie my hands but if I tried anything he wasn’t afraid of killing me. Z held my hands above my head while he raped me. I screamed for him to stop, I told him how much he was hurting me…that only seemed to add fuel to his fire. I’m pretty sure I blacked out.
I woke up to F pulling a shirt over my head. He had a warm cloth and he was cleaning off the blood on my ankles, the belts had dug into my skin while I tried to fight off Z. I looked into F’s eyes and started to cry. He told me it was ok because Z was gone for awhile. F passed me a beer and asked if I wanted to go for a smoke downstairs. I was too scared to look at everyone downstairs so we stood on the balcony on the 2nd floor of the house. After a long awkward silence, I told F that I wanted to go home and never wanted to see Z again. He told me he’d take me home as soon as possible and that breaking up with Z wasn’t going to be easy. On the way home he filled me in.
