The games we play

Adam pulled me off the bench by my legs. My back hit the floor with a loud thud. My head narrowly missed the edge of the bench, but swung back down cracking against the floor. He pinned me to the ground with his right knee on my chest making it dificult for me to breathe. I told him to get the fuck off of me, but he just pinned me there, adding more pressure when I tried to move. I was furious and scared. But mostly furious. I couldn't move. My physical inferiority to this teenage boy devastatingly apparent. I can't remember if he said anything while he held me there, but I do remember the fear in my friend's eyes as she pleaded for him to let me go. He didn't let me go until the school janitor told him to stop. I stood up and sat back down on the bench and told Adam never touch ever again while holding back tears. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. My back hurt for a week.

Adam had always been violent. He liked to push girls up against the wall and whisper profane things in their ears while digging his dick into their backs. Funny how in high school behaviour like that was tolerated. Funny how we didn't tell anyone about it. Funny how we thought it wouldn't make a difference anyways. Funny how we excused his behaviour just because he was a boy. Boys are supposed to hurt girls, right?

I lost my virginity to Adam. Bet you didn't see that one coming.

Yeah, me, the straight-A-student, member of the student council, Valedictorian of my graduating class, starting player on the high school soccer team, let Adam, drug dealer/addict, "player", high school drop-out "de-flower" her.

You see, Adam and I always had this "thing", ever since elementary school. He was the bad boy and I was the good girl.

*unfinished post*