Dirty Me/Pretend like you have no idea what happened and that you would love to party with him

From Create Your Own Story

"Sorry, I don't really remember much of anything. I guess I had too much to drink too. I would love to come." You manage to keep your voice straight while talking to him.

His voice immediately picks up, no longer containing a slightly taunting edge. He keeps you on the phone for a while, talking about this and that. If you didn't know what happened, you could imagine liking this guy. It turns your stomach thinking of that.

He finally winds down, and gives you the address before hanging up.

With that, you go to your parents room and find the key to your dad's gun cabinet. It's not like you don't know how to shoot guns. He has taken you and your mother to the range frequently, and found himself dismayed when your mom shot better than he did. You aren't that great at it, but you can hit what you try to. As anger washes over you, you don't even think of the consequences of what you are about to do. You are too blinded by the thought of making them pay for what they did to you.

You go to your closet and just throw on an outfit. You don't really care what it is at this point. If you looked in the mirror though, it probably wouldn't surprise you that it was a blood red baby-doll dress and black leggings, but you don't bother looking in the mirror, and the clothes don't matter at the moment.

You find yourself with a few hours until the party starts. You decide you need something to calm your nerves.

Picking up the phone, you hit your favorites and dial your friend from the party.

"Hello," she answers.

"Hi," you reply.

"Oh my god girl, where have you been? Why haven't you returned my calls? Is everything okay?" You know she doesn't really care about you. She just doesn't like it when people ignore her when she wants something.

"Everything is fine," you tell her, a slight quiver to your voice.

"You don't sound fine," she replies.

"Everything is fine, but I need a favor," you say hesitantly.

"Okay. What is it you need?" She asks.

"Can you call that dealer you know? I really need something right now. A little coke? Meth? Something, anything." You feel like breaking down and screaming at the same time, yelling at her, asking why she abandoned you there and didn't make sure you were okay. Breaking down and telling her what was done to you. In the end, you say nothing, waiting for her answer, because you know how shallow she is, and that it wouldn't do anything anyways.

"Sure, I will call him. How much you want?"

You look through your purse, then go dig through your parent's drawers more. "About fifty dollars worth. I would prefer coke. Can he just bring it over to my house? Sorry, not up for company right now." The fact is, you don't want to see her at all. You don't trust what you might do.

"I don't know. You know he doesn't like meeting people he doesn't know. But, you have bought so much from him, maybe I can get him to go over. I can't believe though you won't let me come over. Please? We can do it together." You hear the hopeful plea in her voice, but stand firm.

"Sorry, just. Not right now. I promise I will save you some, okay? For tomorrow? Tonight, I just need some time for myself." You hate how it almost sounds like you are begging or even whining. It seems to have worked though, because she agrees to call him and try to get him to deliver himself, and makes you promise you will call tomorrow and you two can get high together.

She manages to convince him apparently, because about thirty minutes later, the doorbell rings. He steps inside, you hand him the cash and he gives you the coke, then he leaves. Very few words are spoken at all. The guy seems all business.

You grab a hand mirror and pour some of the white powder out of the small baggie. Tracking down a razor, you chop it up, breaking up the clumps, until it is a fine powder. Placing the razor just a little off the middle, you push some of the powder away from the rest. Running the razor along the edge, you create a large line of powder, glistening white, with a slightly yellow tint, and set down the mirror.

In the kitchen, you track down the straws and take one out. Cutting into the plastic, you end up with a short straw, about the length of your thumb. Bringing it back, you place the straw against the bottom of the line you created, then bring your face down and put the other end of the straw inside your nose.

Sucking air through your nose, while closing off the other nostril by pushing against it with the finger on the hand not holding the straw, you snort up the line, moving it along as the white powder disappears.

Once the line is done, you tilt your head back, feeling the rush of the cocaine, the burning sensation in your nose. You missed this so much, and it burns so good. Your eyes dilate as the effect hits you. You can feel your blood rush and the world bursts with brightness and energy. You can also feel the rage build up, ready to fight. You busy yourself around the house, feeling wonderful, like you can do anything. You know exactly what you will do when you get to his "party".

A few lines later, and feeling good, you arrive at the party destination. You knock, and are greeted by the guy who drugged you last time.

He looks at you, and blinks. "Looks like you got the party started early. Great. Come in, come in. Everyone is already here and having a good time."

He tries to take your purse, and you jerk it back. "Sorry," you mumble. "I will keep it with me."

A flash of annoyance storms through his face, to be replaced by smiles. The transformation, quicksilver, creeps you out.

When you enter, you see many people, but are quick to notice the oddity. You appear to be the only girl here. You can see everyone drinking beers and talking while the music plays. Looks like you were right, this party isn't meant for your fun, but instead is meant for them to use you.

He brings you over to the couch and sits you down. "Here, let me get you a beer." He gets up and you watch him carefully. You see him turn his back and try to hide the movements of his hand. He then fills the cup from the keg and brings it over to you.

You look at him, and for an instant he hesitates. You can see him steeling himself before he finishes the trip.

He hands the cup to you, which you take, tempted to throw it in his face. "Drink up, there is plenty more. We will have a great time." He seems to be trying to be as smooth as possible, and starts talking to you. Eventually, he notices you aren't drinking. "Everything okay? You haven't touched your beer."

You just stare at him.

"No worries, we won't do anything. Just cut loose, have some fun."

Again, you sit there, just staring at him, as you feel your pulse pounding in your ears. You heart beats so fast, and you feel like you could fly if you just tried.

He tries talking to you again, but you notice him getting both upset and nervous.

"So, I guess beer isn't your thing. We have other...things...if you prefer. Just let me know what you want. I hate to see you just sitting here, not having a good time."

When you just continue staring, he starts to get upset. Finally, it seems he can't hold back anymore, and his true self comes through, in all its ugliness.

"Listen bitch, we wanted to do this the nice way, but you don't seem to want to do that."

You notice the other guys start moving closer to you. You put your hand in your purse.

"Oh come on. Don't be like that. We just want to have a good time. You can have a good time too, if you just relax and go with it."

You finally speak. "Okay. What do you want to do."

He looks at you like you are an absolute idiot. "Here, let me show you."

He reaches over and grabs your breast.

You manage to stop yourself from doing anything. You want nothing more than to show him what you have for him, but you hold back. You have a goal in mind.

You reach over and run your hand along the bulge in his pants. "Yes, this is what you want, right?"

He smiles. It isn't a pleasant smile.

He takes your hand away. "Guess you do like a little fun." He unzips his pants.

You get off the couch and sit on the floor in front of him as you work his penis out of his pants. "I am much better when not drugged."

He looks at you in sudden alarm, like he is about to freak out. You move your mouth over his penis and put it in your mouth. You can see him calm down at this.

"Yeah baby, like that," he says, pushing your head further down. He doesn't even notice your hand slip back into your purse, and neither do the other guys, as they are too focused on watching you suck his penis.

Another moves around you and grabs your breasts from behind. You loose it completely, and decide now is the time to teach these guys a lesson. One they might not survive.

Your teeth close down on the penis in your mouth, and you bite, as hard as you can, chewing, sawing your teeth. He screams in pain, bucking his pelvis up, trying to get up, to get away. His movements end what is left of his penis, and you feel it come off in your mouth. Blood flows freely, making you want to gag on the putrid, coppery taste, making you want to heave. You spit it out.

The guy behind you shoves, trying to push you away.

Your hand whips around, gun in it, still in the purse, and you pull the trigger. The bullet rips apart the purse, speeding towards the person groping you, tearing into him. You watch him stagger back, blood bloom where it hit him. Just below the heart. You hear the horrible bang, the horrible scream. The remaining guys try to run. You turn it on them, hitting a couple, missing the rest. A shoulder. A back.

You find the guy who's penis you bit off, curled up in a ball not far away, obviously in too much pain to do much.

His eyes have a glazed, far away look as you walk over to him. You spit out more blood next to him.

"Drug me? Rape me? Guess you won't be raping anyone else again, will you, asshole?" The last comes out as a scream.

"Guess you will all learn," you again scream at him. You feel yourself teetering over an edge. It feels like your world is crumbling around you, but you taught them. You point the gun at him, and pull the trigger.

Eventually, the police arrive. They find you sitting there, next to the guy who drugged you. A look of pain and horror plasters his face in his death. They also find the second guy, dead from a lung shot.

"Poor boy drowned in his own blood," you hear from one officer. They point the gun at you, ordering you to drop it, put your hands on your head.

You are brought to the police station and questioned. You stare at them blankly, not caring. Numb.

Eventually they process you, try you, sentence you. It doesn't hold up as your lawyer pushes for an insanity please. You find out the rape drugs were found, and the jury is swayed to accept the plea from your lawyer. It doesn't matter. You will still never see the outside of the mental facility for a long time.

The End

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