Page 341 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

It’s me. I’m standing in the doorway to Marcus’s bedroom, swaying as I hold open the door for him.

I turn in the chair and stare at the closed door. My stomach tightens, and for a second I’m convinced I’m going to puke. When I face the laptop again, it’s with a grimace and slitted eyes.

I don’t want to watch this any more than I wanted to look at that picture Marcus drew. Because I know what happens next, and I don’t want to have to face it like this.

But if I don’t, then I’ll never know if she said yes or not. It’s always been her word against mine, but now?—

Judging from how drunk she is, I already know she couldn’t possibly have consented to anything.

I tap the spacebar anyway. And I force myself to watch.

“But it’s your birthday, bro,” Marcus says. “She’s supposed to be giving you head right about now, not passing out in my bed.”

“You’re th’ one that got her this drunk in the first place,” I say.

Gotbothof us drunk it seems. On the contrary, Marcus’s hand is steady, and his words come out just fine.

Marcus brings Jess over to the bed, but instead of gently putting her down, he collapses on the mattress with her, letting out a theatrical groan.

She tries pushing his arm off of her, and then starts giggling.

My chest grows tight again.

Nothing could ever get Jessica down for long. She was always so happy, so fucking optimistic. My little Hollywood starlet.

Until I ruined her. Until I broke her so badly that no one could put her back together again.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and move to close the laptop lid. I can’t watch anymore. Just thinking about what comes next sickens me?—

From the laptop comes the unmistakable sound of a door closing. And then Marcus speaks. What he says makes my eyes shoot open and sends a flood of bitter bile into my mouth.

“Give the birthday boy a goodnight kiss.”

“What?” Jessica says, laughing. “Get out, Marcus.”

“Come on. One for the camera, princess.”

“Fine,” she says through a sigh, but sounds only too happy to comply. The camera jolts. Light blooms and then Marcus’s arm retreats behind the lens again. The lamp on the nightstand throws a golden aura over the bed. I perch unsteadily on the edge of Marcus’s mattress, my bare feet on the floor and my knees wide apart, and drag Jessica onto my lap.

She straddles me clumsily, her back to Marcus as he moves away from the bed. Her skirt rides up her thighs when she leans in to kiss me, both of us swaying like reeds in a high wind. She seems to have forgotten all about Marcus as our kiss deepens. Igrab her ass, dragging her hard against me. When she mewls into my mouth, Marcus steps to the side to get a better shot.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he murmurs.

Cold sludge slides down my back as my lips slowly part.

On the video, my hands move clumsily as I try to take off Jessica’s shirt. I end up tangling it in her arms, and she starts giggling uncontrollably as I struggle to undress her.

The video blurs and then settles. Marcus’s face obscures the shot, a pale smudge until he steps back.

My hands clench into fists. Marcus’s pupils are crowding out his irises. It can’t just be the low light in the room causing that—that must have been the coke and shit he was on that night.

“Marcus to the rescue,” he whispers to the camera, his mouth inching into a coy smile. He points at the camera. “Who’s the greatest wingman ever?” He points at himself with his thumb. “I am, and don’t you ever forget that, bro.”

He grins, smooths down his hair with his hands, and spins around to face me and Jessica on the bed. Creeping up behind her, he slides his hands under her shirt and pulls it over her head.

She doesn’t even seem to notice it wasn’t me undressing her. With her eyes shut and her body arching against mine, she looks lost in the moment.

And so am I. My hands move to her bra, but Marcus brushes them away and unhooks it for me. I claw the straps from her shoulders, baring her tits, and Marcus draws the lacy bra out between us and tosses it on the floor.

---