The First

I find myself throwing on some shoes and getting into my car, before I have a chance to think about what I'm doing. I have been stuck inside the apartment alone with my thoughts, since getting back from dinner with Lindsey. I have to get away for a second, get some fresh air.
I'm not sure where I'm going to go, I'll just drive around. I do this for a while, aimlessly drive around town, until I can feel my arms pulling, tugging on the wheel leading me down the familiar roads, back to where it all started.

Something about seeing it in its worn down state gives me a feeling of sweet satisfaction. This house should have been burned to the ground long ago. It doesn't deserve to still be standing, when its hold the memories that knocked me down.

These are the terrible memories that make me toss and turn at night. The memories I loathe. Memories I lose sleep over. Memories of when I lost myself.

Before

It was chilly and I was struggling to keep warm in my sunshine yellow cardigan. The weather had taken an unusual turn for it being May. I walked along the familiar streets wondering just how far I'd walked already, wondering when I would be home. I had walked this path so many times, but tonight it seemed to never end.

Finally, I rounded that last familiar curve. I quickly walked up the front steps and opened the front door to our house. My father was lying on the couch passed out, a bottle of whiskey trapped in his right hand. My mother was no where to be found.

"Mom?" I called, taking the steps two at a time, until I reached the top of the staircase. No answer came, nor would I ever get one. She was gone, had been for what seemed like ages.

"What are you yelling for?" My father spat at me, as he propped himself up on the banister at the top of the stairs, his right hand still clutching the bottle of whiskey. He raised the liquid to his mouth and took a long swig from the bottle. When did he come upstairs? Why didn't I hear him?

"I - Uh..." I struggled to find the words to say. Why was I calling for her? She hadn't been home in months. She had walked out on us, on me, on this horrible excuse for a life. She was tired, so tired, of coming home to a drunk husband and a teen daughter that probably reminded her too much of the one she had lost. This daughter would never be like the one she lost, and she couldn't accept that. She had decided that she had finally had enough. She packed her bags and didn't look back, as she slammed the front door behind her.

"Spit it out." My father says, still waiting for an answer.

"I don't know." I say, letting my head fall a little. I had just spent the last hour arguing with my high school boyfriend, Jason, now ex-boyfriend, and I was spent. I just wanted to go to bed. So much for being 17 now, it didn't feel any different than when I was sixteen. My dad, famous for not giving a shit at this point, had completely forgotten about my birthday.

"She's gone. You know that." He took another swig of his whiskey, this time letting the bottle fall to the floor when he was done. The dark liquid spilled from the bottle, and I watched as it spread over the hardwood. "I'm having some friends over tonight, they will be here in a bit." He stated simply, and turned on his heel, descending the staircase.

I hated when my father had people over. I watched him until he was out of sight, then went to my bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind me.

I woke up sometime later to my doorknob jingling. Someone was trying to get in.

"Hello?" I called out. "Dad?" I walked over to the door and opened it slowly. I was tired and my eyes were still adjusting from the dark. A dark figure stood in my doorway.

"Hey, Al. Your dad passed out and its just me here now. I thought I'd come see what you were up to." The dark figure stepped forward to reveal Mike, one of my dads loser friends that he probably met at some stupid ass bar, but claimed he knew from college. Mike only came around when my dad threw these stupid parties, or more like sad excuses for parties. It was usually just a few men playing poker and drinking beer after beer, or whatever choice liquor, until they were shit-faced and then stumbling back home to their wives.

"I'm trying to sleep." I stated, trying to block him from coming further into my room. I never come downstairs during my dads parties. I try to make myself as scarce as possible, usually sneaking off to Jason's, but not tonight. Jason and I were no longer together, I had made sure of that, and that we never would be again. I don't know why I always pushed him away. He was so sweet to me, was always there for me, and cared for me more than he probably should have.

"Are you gonna let me in, Al?" Mike asked, pushing a stray piece of hair away from my face and behind my ear.

"No. I'm going back to bed." I tried to shove him out of the doorway, but he didn't budge.

"Now, that's no fun." He slurred, smirking down at me. I wanted to reach up and punch that damn smirk off his face, I hadn't realized I was about to, until I felt him grab my clenched fist, mid-air. "No, ya don't." His large hand wrapped around my fist and brought it back down to my side. His other hand reached up again, stroking my cheek. "Your dad might let you get away with that shit, but I'm not about to." What was he talking about? I had never hit my dad.

Before I had a chance to protest to his words, he was pushing me, shoving me back onto my bed. His body covered mine, pressing against me, holding me down on the bed. I tried to squirm out from under him, but it was no use.

"Help!" I screamed. "Dad!" But it was no use, he was passed out, as Mike had said, and had not a clue what was taking place above him. Despite the fact that my screaming was doing no good, Mike's hand reached up to clamp over my mouth.

"He won't hear you anyway." He sneered, his hot breath hitting my neck. I wanted to get sick at the smell of the liquor on his breath, but my mind was trying to take me away, anywhere but here.

As soon as I felt his tongue slip in my mouth, I bit down.

"Ouch!" He yelped, his face turning icy. "You little bitch!" His fist collided with my face.
I winced, feeling the impact, my head lolling to the side. "Get off of me!" I spat at him, trying to push him away again.

Both of my wrists easily fit into one of his large hands, as he pulled them above my head. The other hand traveled up my thigh, reaching the hem of my dress. "I bet you're so sweet." He said in my ear, as his hand traveled further, up my dress and over my panties.

"Please stop." I begged him, hot tears rolling down both of my cheeks.

"Don't beg me, princess, it'll only make me want you more."

I couldn't help but cry harder, as his hand pulled my panties down my legs and he tossed them onto the floor by my bed. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. I recited in my head, as a mantra to myself. Still holding my wrists above my head, his nails digging into my skin, his other hand reached for his jeans, undoing and pulling them down.

I can't watch this. I told myself. I forced my eyes shut. I heard him rustling again, and soon after he was forcing himself into me. I screamed out in pain, as he thrusted in and out of me. His mouth came down to cover mine, silencing my screaming. I clenched my teeth.

"No one will hear you." He said, as he pulled his mouth away from mine.

It felt like it was never going to end, but within probably minutes he was ready to come."Fuck." He said, "You're so t..." He trailed off, losing himself in the moment.

A few seconds later, I felt him release, and then pull out of me. I winced again at the pain.

"I bet your boyfriend wasn't as good as me." He said with a smug grin.

I hated the man in front of me. I hated my father in that moment, for bringing this man into our house. I hated him for not being there for me, while his friend did unspeakable things to me, tore me apart. I hated them. I hated my life.

After what seemed like forever, Mike finally left my room. I hurriedly rushed over to the door and locked it. Locking the door didn't seem like enough, though, so I pulled my vanity chair over and propped it up under the knob. I laid back down in my bed and sobbed. I sobbed until I felt like I had no tears left to cry, then I fell asleep.

Notes

Delving a little further into Allison's life now... I hope you all enjoy the update, though I know it will be hard for some to read. Love to all of my loyal readers thus far. Thank you guys so much for reading!

- J