Page 5 of Breaking You Open

Eric slides his hand into his pocket and gets out a bottle of clear liquid. “This is gross, but it gets the job done. Open up.” He uncaps the bottle and holds it to my mouth. I part my lips eagerly, but as soon as a burst of the liquid hits my tongue, I gag and have to fight not to spit it out.

Eric barks out a laugh. “Strong, right?”

“Yeah,” I choke out. Strong? No kidding. It feels like that vile liquid is going to burn a hole in my throat as I swallow. I stick my tongue out in a grimace.

Eric chuckles again. “You’re cute.” He brushes a strand of hair from my forehead. His hand stays in my hair, and he gives me the bottle again, tilting it further to allow more of the liquid into my mouth. I gulp it down obediently. I do want to get drunk, after all, and Eric is nice to let me have this instead of the beer. After a minute or so, I start to feel a warm and fuzzy feeling in my belly, and my mouth lifts into a smile.

“There you go,” Eric says, eyes intent on my face. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

I nod. The sounds and people do feel a little less overwhelming, and instead of anxious and wary, I feel giggly and warm.

Eric feeds me yet another sip of the bottle before he suddenly grabs my hand and yells into my ear, “Let’s dance!”

Had he asked me thirty minutes ago, I would’ve refused, or at least protested, but now the idea doesn’t feel as outlandish as it should. I’ve never danced in my life, but now I’m following a stranger onto the dance floor. I hope Lilith would be proud if she saw me.

Eric pulls me ahead of himself and swirls me into his arms. As we move to the music, he hands me another mouthful of the foul-tasting liquor, laughing as it spills down my throat and into the collar of my shirt. He leans in and kisses my wet neck, and when his head turns back up, he captures my lips with his.

Wow. I gasp into his mouth, amazed that this is what he really wants to do with me. Perhaps he can be the one? The one to take care of me…

I need someone—someone who can blunt the sharpest edges of my life. Someone who’ll care for me, someone who’ll hold me. Someone who’ll fix this terrible weakness within me. Someone kind. In return, they can use my body whichever way they want, as long as they don’t betray me like Aaron did. I can’t go through life on my own. The mere three weeks that have passed since I left him have been plenty enough for me to understand that.

But Eric…Eric tastes like cigarettes and alcohol, and his arms wrap around my waist as he plunges his tongue into my mouth, way too deep. Slithering.

He’s handsome, though, in a worn-down, jaded sort of way, and he’s got that authoritative confidence I’ve always envied and craved.

But he doesn’t look kind.

He looks hungry.

He has the same gleam in his eyes that Aaron used to have when I changed into a dress he’d bought: a ridiculous pink thing, with accompanying panties and high heels.

“Now you’re almost as tall as me,” he said, pulling me in for a kiss.

I melted into his embrace, but then he bunched up the skirt and pinched the flesh of my ass so hard I yelped.

“Shut up,” he hissed. “Don’t want the others to hear, do we?”

I shake my head to rid myself of the memories, and the night blurs for a while. At one point, I’m in the bathroom, pissing a whole lot. When I get back to the dance floor, Eric swoops me up in his arms and kisses me again. I sway unsteadily to the beat of the music, stumbling around the crowd.

This is what I wanted, wasn’t it? To get drunk and make out with someone. So why doesn’t it feel as good as I hoped?

“Come here,” Eric says, leading me away from the dance floor. “I have something better than booze.”

Wait…He’s leading me to the stairs. Why are we going upstairs? Upstairs means privacy. Upstairs means bedroom. Aaron never used to trick me when he wanted to fuck me. He either told me outright, or he got a hungry gleam in his eyes that spoke his intention all too clearly. Sharp were his eyes, soft was his skin, and hard was his cock as it speared into my mouth or my ass. He was cruel, but he was honest.

This doesn’t feel honest. This feels insidious and wrong.

I rip my hand away from Eric, stumbling backward. “No.”

“No?” Eric says, and his mouth curls into an annoyed snarl. “What do you mean, no? Come here.”

He reaches for my arm, and the world blurs around me. Something bad is building up in my stomach and pushing against my throat. I feel nauseous, from both the alcohol and the way the night has evolved.

I thought Eric liked me. I thought he just wanted to dance and make out with me a little…Not pull me upstairs and get angry when I won’t go with him. I was wrong about him…So wrong…But how do I make it right? I can’t. I try to rip away from him again, but he holds me in a viselike grip, and the world is spinning, spinning, spinning…

Chapter 2

Louis

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