Page 22 of Cedarwood Cabin

I shake my head no. I feel anxiety fill my body.

“It’s unlikely you will get pregnant the first time.”

“Uh, please wear a condom,” I say.

He lets out a sigh, bending down and retrieving his wallet from his pants. He takes out a condom, tears the packet open with his teeth, and quickly rolls the condom onto his cock.

I open my legs for him and he positions himself between them. I feel his body press down on me as he lowers himself.

“I’ll go easy on you,” he whispers.

I feel a knot form in my stomach from his words. I’m scared and nervous.

I don’t think I’m ready.

The tip of his erection nudges against my entrance. I tense up.

I’m not ready! Say something, Flora! SAY SOMETHING!

Marty lifts his head and I look into his eyes. “You look just like your mother. So goddamn beautiful,” he murmurs.

My heart sinks. I feel like I have just been punched in the gut. He wants my mother, not me.

“I can’t. Stop,” I say, pushing against his shoulders. But he only presses harder against me, trapping me underneath him.

“It’s okay,” he coos.

“No! I’m not ready!” I cry out.

“Shh…”

I tense up and my entire body becomes rigid.

“STOP, MARTY!” I shout, my voice echoing around the room.

I can tell he is frustrated as he lets out a grunt, finally releasing me and rolling off to the side. I sit up, grab a large pillow, and hug it like a shield.

Marty's face is cold and detached as he stares at me. Tears spill down my cheeks as I cry. “I’m not my mother!”

Without a word, he picks up his clothes and gets dressed. Once fully clothed, he looks at me and mutters, “Sorry.”

He leaves my bedroom, closing the door behind him. I hear him make his way downstairs and leave.

I grab a pillow, hug it tightly, and begin to cry. My mind races and I feel the sting of his words. You look just like your mother.

Tears well up in my eyes again. I feel so foolish, so naïve. I am so glad I didn't have sex with Marty. It makes me feel sick knowing I nearly let him take my virginity. He didn't want me, he wanted my mother.

I feel shaky as I stand up, grabbing the towel from the floor and wrapping it around myself. I head to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I look at myself in the mirror and my eyes are puffy.

“You’re not her. You’re not your mother. You are you, Flora,” I whisper to myself.

I head back to my bedroom and close the curtains. I sit on the edge of my bed and pick up my phone. I start texting Nancy. I know I can never tell my father, but Nancy is the only person I can trust with this. I wish my mother were still alive.

Me

Can we talk later? Please don't tell my father.

Nancy

---