Page 29 of The Last Session

- He f*cks you over his desk in his office, doesn’t he?

- He f*cked you in the a$$ with a cross, didn’t he?

- He came (?) in your mouth and said it was the blood of Christ, didn’t he?

Okay. I softly closed the diary. So I hadn’t been overreacting: Adam really had sexually harassed me and others. I felt it now, a familiar swirl of shame in my chest, mixed with fear, mixed with—the most mortifying of all—an activation low in my belly.

I threw the diary in the box and went back to the living room, plopping on the couch and feeling restless. I again pictured Jonah next to me, his infuriatingly gorgeous face. How dare he try to slut-shame me? But my anger shifted into something else as I imagined leaning forward and kissing him. Getting on top of him. Him kissing me back, grabbing my hips, grinding against me.

I unzipped my pants and closed my eyes. I imagined us making out, unable to control ourselves. It didn’t matter that I was a “job”—he wanted me. Even if he hadn’t known he was attracted to me until that very moment. Or maybe hestillwasn’t attracted to me—maybe I disgusted him. But he still wanted to fuck the shit out of me.

I went to my room and pulled a vibrator out of my bedside table. On top of my comforter, I kept envisioning us on the couch: Jonah pushing me off him so that I was facing away on all fours, pulling down my pants, touching me, his erection hard against me. He’d never felt this turned on before, even by his hot girlfriend—no, his wife—who was at that very moment at home, sleeping innocently in their shared bed. Their newborn in the next room.

He gripped my breast over my shirt, then pulled my hair, snapping my head back.

“You’re so fucking ugly,” he whispered.

Suddenly, I was on a blanket in a dark shed. Cold air rose throughthe slats, through the thin rough blankethe—no longer Jonah—had thrown down in a rare moment of thoughtfulness.

“Don’t you think you are?” Adam was behind me, thrusting furiously. He grasped a chunk of my hip. “Fat too. You’re fat and ugly. You liked being fucked by me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I gasped. Because it was true, Ididlike it, and something about being shamed at the same time was making the power build up in my groin.

“You’re such a slut. An ugly fucking slut. You think he would ever like you? Stupid slut.” The words came in short bursts. He slapped my ass, and the sound seemed to echo in the silent space. Crickets chirped outside, their calls mixing with the burps of frogs. The shed smelled of dank, rotting wood.

“You’re my bitch.” He leaned forward, his breath in my ear. “Say it. Say you’re my bitch.”

“I’m your bitch.”

“Touch yourself, bitch.”

I obediently brought my fingers between my legs, unsure what to do. He grabbed my hand, moving it in a circle.

“Slut,” he muttered. “I knew you wanted this. I knew the whole time.”

I wanted to flee my body, but I also wanted to stay here, riding this wave that was coming from far off, causing my abdominals to clench and quiver.

“Say his name,” he ordered in my ear.

“What?” I gasped. But I knew who Adam was talking about. He hadn’t known, though, what I’d just seen Pastor John do. What had shocked and horrified me. What would change things between us forever.

Adam didn’t relent: “Pretend I’m him.Say it.”

So I did. And almost immediately, I came, crying out, shocked and scared by the waves crashing over me. It was my first orgasm.

Adam collapsed on me. His thin body felt so much heavier than I would’ve expected. He pulled out and I felt liquid wetting my thighs.

“Fuck.” He said it thoughtfully.

I sat on the blanket, raising my knees, clutching my legs, suddenly embarrassed by my nakedness. His eyes ran over me.

“Youarea freak.” He said it neutrally.

Now, I lay back, heaving and spent. I tossed the vibrator away.

That was it: my first sexual experience. With a boy who’d called me names and invoked our pastor—a man who’d also used me. I’d heard from pastors and teachers for years just how sinful it was to be sexual—to eventhinkabout sex was a reason to beg God for forgiveness. And what had I done that night? Gone all the fucking way. True, I’d been wandering around in a state of shock, not even aware of my body, at least at first. Maybe—probably—Adam had sensed that. But hey, according to my community, boys would be boys. As a girl, you were the guardian of your own virtue. And at that age, it felt like I’d crumpled it up and thrown it in a gutter.

Adam and I had mostly avoided each other afterwards, though he’d stopped with the remarks about Pastor John. All he had to do was smirk at me, and my stomach would drop. He could tell anyone at any time what had happened between us. It was surprising he’d kept it a secret, but I think he liked holding that power over me.

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