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Power and Struggle
He stands over me with a wicked smile creeping along his face. My tears mix with my overdone makeup, streaking along my face. My dishwater brown hair is tangled into curls and knots. My thousand dollar dress is on the apartment floor and I’m tied down with rope to his red couch. I was just an ordinary girl, sixteen, had a bright future mapped out in front of me. In my ordinary night, I didn’t expect an ordinary boy to make my world to collapse like he was going to.
“Please don’t.” I whisper. The rope scratches my wrists as I try to wiggle out of its hold. The guy cackles and watches me try to flee. Then he presses a hand on my tear ridden cheek.
“Not going to work sweetheart. You’re trapped with me. Bet you wish you didn’t ditch your friends and go off into the night with me huh?” His wicked smile increases into a sneer. I bite my lip, tasting blood. I close my eyes waiting for it just to be over. I hear an impatient sigh escape from his lips and feel his hands tracing up and down my torso.
“Tell you what, to make it more fun, I’ll let you go and try to run.” My eyes spring open and I stare at him in silence. He grins sickly sweetly and unties the scratchy rope from my wrists. His hands slide under my back and he pushes me up into sitting position. I continue to stare at him. His smile drops and an angry expression darkens his face.
“C’mon now. I don’t have all night and I want to have fun. Now go, run away little mouse. Let the cat pounce.” He stands up and yanks my arm to help me stand too. My mind screams at me to run, run to the door. My feet respond and I’m walking towards the door. My hand reaches the knob and twists it. My body has taken over for me. But then I hear him coming closer to me and I’m brought back to my breaking reality. I feel his hands reach my waist and turn me around. His face smashes against mine and his hands try to pull down my lingerie. Then something snaps inside of me, and I realize how much danger I am in.
“NO!” I scream and shove him away, my tears falling again. He licks his lips and an evil glimmer grows in his eyes.
“Finally.” His gruff voice rings through my ears and he comes after me. I run, away from him and away from my escape. I try to look for another way out, a window, a fire escape, something, to get me away from this horrible place. I find the windows boarded up and every door leading to a dead end.
Suddenly, I feel his hands scraping against my bare skin and trying to grip my body closer to him.
“Get away from me!” I screech and turn towards him to run to the door. He towers over me, his bare chest heaving up and down slowly. His hands try to reach for me again and hands thrust out in response. My hands smack his chest and the impact shudders through him and he gets thrown off balance. I run out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen. I find a single plate and a spoon and pick it up. He’s running after me now.
“Don’t touch me!” And I throw the plate and spoon against him and they break his skin, causing a bit of bleeding. I see his fists clench together and a twisted angry expression crosses his face.
“Now you’ve done it, little girl.” He tries to grab me again and succeeds this time.
“No!”I scream as his mouth finds mine and his hands claw at my skin. He’s tries to undress whatever I have left on my body and keep me in his grasp at the same time.
Finally, I find my use of my hands and push away from him for the last time.
“No, you are not winning this fight little girl!” He yells in my face and throws me to the tile floor. I hear my ribs crack and I yelp out in pain. His body lands on top of me and his hands try to take off my lingerie once again. I scream as loud as I can and I roll away from him. He tries to grab my body but I moved too far from him.
I jump up and run to the door. I fling it open and run downstairs, tears falling on my broken and exposed body. I hear him coming after me and increase my pace. I find outside and see a police standing near his car. I collapse into his arms, sobbing and I point to doors where he comes running out in a blind rage. The police man places me against the car for a second and tackles him. He wraps him in handcuffs and throws him in his car. I look at him, his anger exploding out of every pore of his body and I smile slightly. The police man calls an ambulance for my broken body and he goes off with the angry man to jail. Then I fall to the ground in more tears and relief that it’s finally over.
I have won the fight.
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This article has 7 comments.
Well for me I just write it (for some reason its always late-ish at night) so by the time I'm done I'm ready to go pass out. So usually the next day I pull it back up and read it over a few times fixing grammar stuff or rewording a few things, and once I start doing that new ideas start flowing like oh I could add that too! and so I just work in more sentences to it.
If I can't work in more sentences I'll have the draft paragraph as a guide to what I'm trying to say, and I'll start up a new one. And because the thoughts are already down I don't need to rush it and it usually comes out a lot better.
I dunno, hope that answers what you were asking :p
yeahhh thanks for your constuctive critisim lol it helps alot when writing more little stories like this one...
hahah and yes i think thats what happened, i think i wanted to end it quickly yeah (:
so how do you go and redo it?
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