Page 20 of Nonverbal

He pulls his fingers out and blows air from his lips. “That’s heavy. Man, I’m sorry to hear that. So I don’t need to get you off then?”

My arms and body are heavy and my head is swimming, like my brain drifted away on a cloud. Only my brain. My hands are speaking and the rest of me is glued to the grimy bed, bits of dirt and green crumbles scratching my back. I feel every piece, no matter how minuscule—every grimy dust particle and hardened bit. I’m losing track of what we’re talking about. What were we doing?

He rolls onto his back to look at the stars. “Seems like a lot of work if nothing happens. Since we’re already getting into it, what if we have sex until I finish and then go play video games? I’m not kicking you out. But if you can’t come, it takes the fun out of this. I love feeling women clamp down on me, you know?”

I fumble with my phone. Are my arms floating? What if they left with my brain and they’re no longer attached to my body?

“Totally. I’m not mad because I know you’re not doing it on purpose, but sex is like another level, right? When you find the right partner and you both orgasm, it’s nirvana. Especially since we’re both high. I know we’re having fun and being casual, but you’re pretty. I wanted to feel you come. It’s disappointing you can’t.”

My stomach growls, but not from hunger—like the brownie is heavy inside me and needs to get out. Also, I’m disappointing. I guess I already suspected that. Who wants a broken woman?

Josh kisses me and then unzips his pants. “I’ll be quick.”

When I groan from queasiness, Josh mistakes it for affirmation and positions himself between my legs. No condom. No way is he doing anything without a condom. My body is 100% clean. I don’t even have one strain of herpes, unlike 80% of the population. It takes an eternity, but I lift my 50-ton leg and press my foot against his shoulder to kick him off. He thinks I’m trying to position myself and raises my other leg.

That calm, floating-on-a-cloud feeling fades. My heart pounds inside me. Not inside me. Outside me—right next to my ears. It’s pounding so hard and so fast that I can’t hear. Half is outside my body, the other half inside trying to break my ribs. Am I dying? I’m dying. I am. There’s no other explanation because my body doesn’t feel normal. My heart isn’t even inside my body. I’m clearly going into cardiac arrest. I don’t know where the fuck I am. Where am I?

Oh, yes. I’m outside and it’s nighttime. Look at all those stars.

I can’t breathe. Is Josh smothering me with a pillow? He is. My entire head is covered with a pillow and I’m losing the ability to breathe. Any moment I’ll take my very last breath. I wish I could’ve experienced so much more, so much more. Especially an orgasm. Or a connection with someone. Like Josh said—nirvana.

I choke out a sob. These are the last moments of my life. This fucking bastard. He said I could trust him. Why lie? There’s no reason to tell me I can trust him when I really can’t.

No, this is my fault for being naïve. Who would want to date someone like me unless it was for murder? That brownie was bathed in poison because this sick bastard is into necrophilia. He wants to fuck my cold, dead body. He pretends to be innocent, spewing crap about peace and love, but really, he wants an orgy with a room of corpses. Like that movie, Sex with a 1000 Corpses. No, House of 1000 Sex Corpses.

I shake my head, my cheeks coated in tears. Josh’s stubby dick is inches from going inside me. My body has more energy now from the adrenaline, so I roll onto my side and curl into the tiniest ball. I’m now a marble rolling around on the bed, moaning, hugging myself, fingers clawing my arms. I’m a marble, like all the other used marbles in the world. I crash into others over and over. That’s my purpose.

I get bruised from punches and heal and get bruised again. Over and over. It didn’t use to be that way. My mom and I were just fine until he showed up. Just me and Mom for 23 years of my life. I was fine with that. She handles me when no one else will and knows what’s best. And she needs me, needs my support. Our lives were fine, so why bring him into the picture?

Wow. I am actually a marble. How did I go my whole life thinking I was human when I’ve been a marble all along? My purpose is to get hit.

I scan the room with all its odd shapes and floating lamps and the ceiling that’s really a sky full of stars. Why isn’t Amber here? I miss her. I want her to be here and help me make sense of this strange new universe.

Josh stands in the open doorway with Dave, pants zipped again. Wait. Where did his dick go? How did he move to the door?

“Woah, what happened?” Dave asks.

Josh is like a huge, red, frowny-faced balloon. “She’s freaking out. I shouldn’t have given her the brownie. You just put a little weed in them, right?”

“Think so.” Dave draws on a joint. I watch him suck in smoke for a millennium, but he never ages. Not once.

Why is no one helping me? Taking me to the hospital? No. Not the hospital. What am I thinking? They’ll strap me down and leave me alone in a room like I’m nothing. I can’t go to the hospital. I can’t go anywhere.

My heart is beating fast, so fast. I’m clearly dying and no one is trying to keep me alive. I cover my face and sob. No one wants me alive. Not my mom. Not my dad, because he left years ago and started a new family. Not Amber, because I’m dying and she hasn’t come to save me.

Josh sighs. “I guess call her friend. There go my plans for the evening. Let’s invite Tess over. She’s always fun.”

“‘Kay.”

I’m in the living room, but I don’t know how I got here. Did I walk? The wallpaper is ready to attack me, lots of snarling teeth eager to bite. Where are my shoes? Oh, they’re on my feet. That’s right. I have feet and I walked, but that was years ago. When did I stop being a marble? The trying-desperately-to-heal wound on my side throbs.

Josh slings my purse across my body and pushes me toward the front door. The humid night air hits my face. Am I still suffocating? No, I’m outside, dizzy and sick from my heart pounding.

“You can sit here,” Josh says, helping me into a plastic chair on the patio. “Your friend will be here soon, so just wait.”

I’m dying. Why is he leaving? The door shuts. I’m now a tiny boat on a very big ocean. Where do I go? How do I take care of myself? I don’t even have a bank account to pay my own taxes without permission. No one gave me the right to take care of myself, so I’m going to starve on the street. I curl up as best I can, this time into a grapefruit. I deserve to be hit. I’m such a useless adult. I’m not even a functioning woman.

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