Skeeter

            I was sitting in Grants bedroom, observing the change while he went to go and get something.

            I can't believe it's been years since I've been here, because the room hasn't changed a bit.

            The bed spread was a dark blue, with black and white walls. He had the same shelves, the same photo frames with the same photos. They're mostly of me and him, from when we were younger.

            I shift as Grant reenters the room. My mind feels even fuzzier, even though the lamp light's on.

            "Skeeter, I know your still mad about the little stunt I did a few years back, but it was all in good fun, I swear." I snarl at him, disgusted.

            "All in good fun! That boy was in grave danger because of you! He could've been killed!" I yell at him, feeling myself slipping. What is wrong with me?

            "Let me finish, will ya? I was wrong to do that, totally out of line, but I did it out of jealousy." He says this with an unbelievable sincerity.

            "Jealousy of what, exactly?"

            "Jealous because of the fact that you liked him, had a crush on him, not me." I smirk, wanting to fuel a fire. What game does this boy think he's playin'?

            "What are you saying that you love me? If you did love me so much, you wouldn't have done such a cruel thing, Blaze."

            "Don't call me that out of spite Skeeter." I roll my eyes. Grant makes these hand motions towards the door and someone closes it, locking it.

            "Wha-wha-what's g-g-going on?" Grant face twists into a cruel, twisted smile.

            "Skeeter, I want you, but I know you're not gonna take the easy way." My eyes widen, causing my vision to kaleidoscope. I shake my head vigorously in protest before he grabs my arm and shoves me on that beloved bed. That bed has so many innocent memories it makes me tear up. I cannot get him off me. My mind is to bubbly. I can tell I'm hallucinating, because I can only see the world from bubbles. So I do the only thing that might save me. I scream.

            "Shut up!" he spats at me, ending with a stinging sensation on the side of my face. Why did I wear leggings?

            That's my only regret at the moment, while there being slid of my body. I kick and scream as loud as I can possess, but no one is listening. In minutes the rest of my party outfit is gone and my vision is now a blurred haze. I think I hear someone yelling in the background, but I can't tell.

            "Oh, I almost forgot Ski, I have a song for the occasion." He goes towards some kind of player, a hazy version of Sexual Healing by; I think Marvin Gaye or something. I honestly cannot remember. All I know is one thing. I'm about to be raped and there's nothing I can do about it.

            That's the last thing I remember before passing out.