Atomic Bombshell


Inebriation

January 30th, 2005

His name was Donnie. I don’t like his name because the “ie” forces you to say it with a smile, and there’s not a single thing about him that makes me want to smile.

There were opportunities to get to know him but I wasn’t interested. He was very popular, as evidenced by the horde of girls lusting after him. This made no difference to me, because I found him nothing more than crude and smug.

The place where our paths crossed regularly was Orchestra practice. He played the trumpet, which makes it even less surprising that he fancied himself such the stud. Once in a while I would catch him staring at me. Creepy that he never became embarrassed enough to look away.

Circumstances once brought us together in idle chat with mutual friends. Out of left field he voiced a lengthy analysis about the shape of my breasts. He had hoped I’d be flattered, but instead I was mortified and it only sealed my distaste for him.

The first time I ever got drunk was on a Friday afternoon at Abby’s house. We ditched school together and went to her house. She opened up her father’s liquor cabinet and made me drinks. Eventually I had tried a shot from every bottle, a quick way to learn about the hazards of mixing alcohol.

While I was half passed out and still experimenting with the drinks lined up in front of me, Abby was in the other room making phone calls to invite more people over to enjoy this little party. I’m sure she called the phone in the Orchestra room, and I’ll bet that Donnie took the call… He was the only one who showed up.

Is it possible that he planned to do these things to me? Did he see it as an opportunity? I never thought so, but now that I’m viewing the circumstances in a fresh light, I fear that may have been the case.

He walked through the door like he owned the place, went to the fridge and grabbed a pack of beers. Abby was busy on a phone call with her latest crush. Donnie sat down next to me. I was so drunk I could barely communicate but I tried to appear put together. He opened a bottle of beer and explained to me that I needed to chug it.

We each polished off two beers and then I passed out for a bit. In my drunken state, I remember him trying to make out with me on the sofa. I was unresponsive. He tried to get me to walk, but I couldn’t. Thought he was doing it to help me sober up, but I was wrong.

He picked me up and carried me into Abby’s bedroom and locked the door. I remember feeling like a ragdoll and how everything was spinning. From beneath this drunken haze I did my best to fight, and managed to squirm enough that he didn’t accomplish his objective.

Nausea set in and I began to sober a tiny bit. I lacked the physical strength to break free from under him so I tried to reason with him as best I could. My thoughts came out as mumbles so it didn’t work… But throwing up on him did, or so I thought.

Frustrated, he dragged me across the hall and tossed me into the shower. The freezing water rained down on me while I huddled in a little heap on the ground. Thinking I was free, I sobbed quietly, my tears blending with the drops of water. But he wasn’t finished.

He entered the shower and made it clear how all of this was going to play out. By then I was so exhausted that all I wanted was for it to end, and if that’s what it took to break free and find my way back home to safety, then that’s how it was going to be.

Entry Filed under: The Black Hole,Time Travel

5 Comments

  • 1. Lewis Moten  |  January 30th, 2005 at 3:53 pm

    Some people just need to find a one way ticket to hell. This guy is a total creep. My wife tells me that she wouldn’t change her past for anything in the world, because she wouldn’t be the person she is today. I really hope that you are happy with who you are today. Don’t let creeps like this take away your happyness in life today.

  • 2. Fallen Plebeian  |  January 30th, 2005 at 5:49 pm

    I don’t know where to begin… what you have written here has completely silenced me. THE GUY SHOULD BE ROTTING IN HELL RIGHT NOW! Or better yet, in jail, so that he would know how it feels to get one of his holes ‘enlarged’ by penetration…

  • 3. Grins  |  January 30th, 2005 at 5:55 pm

    My heart hurts for the little girl you were. I do agree with Lewis’s wife though, the pains I’ve been through in the past are part of what made me today. Although I am not glad that you were hurt, I am glad that you’ve survived and become who you are today.

  • 4. Christina  |  January 31st, 2005 at 8:38 am

    That’s terrible.

    I’ve been in a comparable situation and I disagree with everyone above, I would change that if given the chance, screw it making me the person I am today.

    What does it say about things when nearly every girl I know has a story like this?

  • 5. Aurora  |  January 31st, 2005 at 3:10 pm

    Thanks for all the support! Don’t worry about me though, writing about this is my magical way of letting it all go. I write for three important reasons:

    1. It cures any denial I may have had, 2. Compiling these memories in a way that makes sense to others helps me make sense of it too, and 3. Who knows, maybe sharing all of this can help somebody some day.



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