19
Indie
Age Twenty-One
Everysinglefibreofmy skin tingles.
I don’t feel in control of my limbs, and my tongue feels heavy.
Fuck, why is my mouth so dry?
The room is spinning, and I’m starting to feel sick.
I’m falling backwards, and my already speeding heart drops, like I’ve fallen from the height of a roof.
I hit against a soft surface, but the impact makes everything feel worse.
My ears are ringing from the loud music, but it’s quieter in here.
“Just relax,” someone says.
A man.
I try to recognise the voice. Then Conrad’s face flashes above me, but it blurs as quickly as it came into focus.
My eyes feel so heavy, I struggle to force them open.
Panic creeps up, but I can’t control my body.
I’m lifting my arms, but they’re not going where I need them.
The room is moving in waves, like I’m under water.
“No,” I slur, the word dragging out of my mouth, but it sounds more like a groan.
I can’t even swallow properly.
When I manage to open my eyes, everything is disorientated. Someone’s in front of me, but I can’t get their face to focus; it keeps moving.
“Be quiet,” he barks, and my heart thunders.
I can feel hands shoving my dress up.
No.
No.
No.
“Get off me,” I try to shout, but my voice comes out at different tempos, the words all rolling into one.
“Stop moving, bitch,” he snaps, and I force everything inside me to try and kick, to scratch. It’s no use. Something heavy is lying on top of me; it’s so hard to breathe.
Tears fill the corners of my eyes, and sobs burst free.
Saint’s name gets lodged in my throat.
I try to call out for him, until I suck in a jagged breath when I feel it.
