Page 137 of Toxic Wishes

The street lamps make his facial features glimmer as he takes a step closer, and even though it’s dark, I can tell he’s on something. His eyes are bloodshot.

“I paid the car off with a job. You know, something you’re not familiar with.” Survival mode has kicked in. My brain is in control now.

“Right, like I’m supposed to believe that.” he taunts, and his whole presence feels closer and his voice more evident.

“You know, since you’re paying your rent money opening up your legs, I can think of a way you can make it up to me. Right now. Right…here.”

“What makes you think I would want to fake another orgasm with you?”

His lip curls into a snarl, and his hands clench at his sides. I know he wants to lunge forward and make me pay for the remark I made. He stands before me in his jeans and a t-shirt, and I pray silently for him to leave. But his expression grows cold as he glares at me through dark brows.

“The lies you must have told yourself that convinced you that you made me cum all ten times we had sex. I would lay there after, confused, then amused at the fact that nothing about you wasn’t pathetic.”

His top lip twitches, and right now, he’s determining how likely he is to get away with what he wants to do to me since he knows he easily can. It’s dark, and all our neighbors are asleep.

“Now I feel sorry for any girl that suffers the same experience. Because no matter how much they fake their orgasm, it still doesn’t make you a man.”

He lurches forward.

I straightened and pretended to grab something in my back jeans pocket.

“Get out of here,” I tell him, calm and even. “And I never want to see you, or speak to you ever again. I thought I made that message clear when I broke up with you in a text.”

He hesitates a moment. His chest caves with heavy breaths, and I can hear the anger fuming inside him. He wants to rush me so severely. But I’m not even scared. I feel nothing.

I know I won’t l get far if I decide to scream.

“Leave, Now,” I say, sounding as confident as I can muster.

“Or what? Is someone going to come save you, Abigail?” He looks around, holding out his arms wide this time.

“Because unless your fancy football fuck is hiding in the bushes, I don’t see anyone around.” He starts to walk forward, and I step back, trying to figure out if I can make it to the apartment in time to close the door and lock it. That will give me time to call the police.

“I was going to play nice, but after that comment, I think I’ll take my chances.” A snide grin spreads across his face before he lunges for me. I scream and turn around so fast that I almost think I’m free until I feel a hand grab my arm and shove me to the ground. I flip over and try to break free from his grip. But he’s bigger than me, and for being intoxicated, he’s got one hell of a grip.

“Get off of me.”

He takes his other hand and grabs my shoulder, picking me up slightly to jerk me back down on the ground.

“You fucking bitch.” He says as my head hits the ground. I try to reach for my head, but I can’t, and he’s banging me against the concrete floor again. A sharp slap hits my face. And memories of the first time he came close to hitting me come flooding back.

“Stop!” I scream. I try to make out what I’m seeing, but my vision is starting to blur.

“You think you can talk to me that way and get away with it. You are nothing but a dumb bitch that relies solely on her body to get a man. We all know that’s all you got.”

His words stung. Not because they are true but because he knows my deepest insecurities and is using them to hurt me.

“So why don’t you use the only thing you can to save you right now.”

I hear him unbuckle his pants, and my brain registers what’s happening.

“No!” I scream. “Get off of me.”

He slaps me again.

“Shut up and take this dick, you owe me. Now spread those pretty legs.”

I feel him move over me and start to pull my pants down. I move my hands to stop him, but he pushes them away.

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