Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > You Make Me Love You
CHAPTER 1The straw roughly scratched at her back as she was forced down onto the barn’s cold floor. She couldn’t see. The darkness was blinding. And the 7 shots from earlier that night did nothing to help orient her. All she could do was lay still and pray. Pray that he wouldn’t do anything to her if she lay limp. But all that did was make things easier for him and his fumbling hands.
She hadn’t wanted this; hell she didn’t even know the boy. But there is little a girl can do when attacked from behind while drunk. The worst part was that all she could think about at the moment was the smell of his breath as he panted on top of her. Stale sweat and candy. It made her stomach retch and her eyes water. She trembled as he ripped off her clothes. She had long given up the hope of anyone coming to save her. The only thing left to do was close her eyes and wait for it to all be over.
She startled awake to the radio playing Darius Rucker. Loudly. Much more loudly than any normal person would have been able to stand, but it was the only thing Addy could do to ensure she actually got out of bed on time. Lazily, she brushed through her hair with her fingers and rolled out of bed and into the bathroom to start the water running in the shower. She peeled off the tank top and Soffe’s she had slept in, slightly damp with sweat from the nightmare.
“Damnit Addy!” she yelled to her reflection, “What the hell is wrong with you? It was six years ago, get over yourself!” She sighed as she wiped her face with her hands and stepped into the hot water. The calming effect was instant. When she had finished scrubbing her body of the bad memories, she jumped out of the shower into the cold air. It was refreshing, a little jolt to fully wake her up. She rushed to put on a pair of jeans and a shirt that read Joan’s Pit Stop on the front before messily tying back her hair.
“Looks to be a nice day out, huh Rascal?” she asked the yellow lab that was patiently waiting for his breakfast. He cocked his head in response then glanced over to the kitchen. “Yeah, yeah. I’m going to feed you right now.” Addy walked into the kitchen and opened the cupboard. She swore as she realized that the bag of dog food would only last another day or two. “You know, maybe if I gave you away to some rich family in Connecticut, you would never have to wait to be fed. I hear everyone there has a butler for their pets. You’d be lucky then wouldn’t you, buddy?” she said absentmindedly as she scooped some food into a bowl. “And I could use the extra money for myself,” she said under her breath. She turned around and put the bowl of food on the ground. “But I could never give up my man, now could I?” she smirked. Addy pet the lab’s head and then walked away as he dug in to his meal. Ten minutes later, Addy was driving off to work.
Joan’s Pit Stop was a stereotypical diner in a small country town. Addy had worked there since she was 17 years old. She knew everyone who stepped into the restaurant, from Eddie Dratford who came in every Wednesday after work for some sweet tea (and to occasionally sneak some apple pie that his wife insisted would do nothing to help his cholesterol) to the Davidson’s who came for a family brunch every Sunday after church. It was quite sad, but Addy had long ago come to terms with the fact that this diner was both her work and social life.
The back door into the kitchen groaned loudly when Addy opened it.
“Hey girlie! Looks like you made it on time today. Rascal yank you out of bed?” Samantha teased.
“If I hadn’t gotten up when I did, I’m pretty sure he would have,” Addy joked back. It was great working with her best friend. It took the edge off long days, late nights, and less than decent wages. Not to mention the fact that there was none of the I-don’t-know-you-but-I-work-with-you-so-i-guess-I-should-make-small-talk, small talk. Samantha was the one girl Addy knew best, and Addy was the one girl Sam knew best. Or so she thought – Addy could never bring herself to Sam about that night, even if Sam was the one who found her in bed the next morning with makeup running down her face from the unstoppable tears. Sam had brushed it off as a mix of alcohol, a really bad dream, and PMS when Addy refused to say anything. But they never really discussed it anymore, and both were fine with that.
“Well, good thing you have someone watching after you when I’m not there to nag you outta bed, missy! And before you respond with some witty comment, we’ve got a newbie at table twelve who would like some coffee.”
“What? A newbie? Since when does that happen…”
“I can’t quite remember that ever happening before, except for those New Englanders who thought they’d fallen off the map. And I’m telling you Ads, he looks really…well…depressed. Boy must need his coffee.”
She hadn’t wanted this; hell she didn’t even know the boy. But there is little a girl can do when attacked from behind while drunk. The worst part was that all she could think about at the moment was the smell of his breath as he panted on top of her. Stale sweat and candy. It made her stomach retch and her eyes water. She trembled as he ripped off her clothes. She had long given up the hope of anyone coming to save her. The only thing left to do was close her eyes and wait for it to all be over.
She startled awake to the radio playing Darius Rucker. Loudly. Much more loudly than any normal person would have been able to stand, but it was the only thing Addy could do to ensure she actually got out of bed on time. Lazily, she brushed through her hair with her fingers and rolled out of bed and into the bathroom to start the water running in the shower. She peeled off the tank top and Soffe’s she had slept in, slightly damp with sweat from the nightmare.
“Damnit Addy!” she yelled to her reflection, “What the hell is wrong with you? It was six years ago, get over yourself!” She sighed as she wiped her face with her hands and stepped into the hot water. The calming effect was instant. When she had finished scrubbing her body of the bad memories, she jumped out of the shower into the cold air. It was refreshing, a little jolt to fully wake her up. She rushed to put on a pair of jeans and a shirt that read Joan’s Pit Stop on the front before messily tying back her hair.
“Looks to be a nice day out, huh Rascal?” she asked the yellow lab that was patiently waiting for his breakfast. He cocked his head in response then glanced over to the kitchen. “Yeah, yeah. I’m going to feed you right now.” Addy walked into the kitchen and opened the cupboard. She swore as she realized that the bag of dog food would only last another day or two. “You know, maybe if I gave you away to some rich family in Connecticut, you would never have to wait to be fed. I hear everyone there has a butler for their pets. You’d be lucky then wouldn’t you, buddy?” she said absentmindedly as she scooped some food into a bowl. “And I could use the extra money for myself,” she said under her breath. She turned around and put the bowl of food on the ground. “But I could never give up my man, now could I?” she smirked. Addy pet the lab’s head and then walked away as he dug in to his meal. Ten minutes later, Addy was driving off to work.
Joan’s Pit Stop was a stereotypical diner in a small country town. Addy had worked there since she was 17 years old. She knew everyone who stepped into the restaurant, from Eddie Dratford who came in every Wednesday after work for some sweet tea (and to occasionally sneak some apple pie that his wife insisted would do nothing to help his cholesterol) to the Davidson’s who came for a family brunch every Sunday after church. It was quite sad, but Addy had long ago come to terms with the fact that this diner was both her work and social life.
The back door into the kitchen groaned loudly when Addy opened it.
“Hey girlie! Looks like you made it on time today. Rascal yank you out of bed?” Samantha teased.
“If I hadn’t gotten up when I did, I’m pretty sure he would have,” Addy joked back. It was great working with her best friend. It took the edge off long days, late nights, and less than decent wages. Not to mention the fact that there was none of the I-don’t-know-you-but-I-work-with-you-so-i-guess-I-should-make-small-talk, small talk. Samantha was the one girl Addy knew best, and Addy was the one girl Sam knew best. Or so she thought – Addy could never bring herself to Sam about that night, even if Sam was the one who found her in bed the next morning with makeup running down her face from the unstoppable tears. Sam had brushed it off as a mix of alcohol, a really bad dream, and PMS when Addy refused to say anything. But they never really discussed it anymore, and both were fine with that.
“Well, good thing you have someone watching after you when I’m not there to nag you outta bed, missy! And before you respond with some witty comment, we’ve got a newbie at table twelve who would like some coffee.”
“What? A newbie? Since when does that happen…”
“I can’t quite remember that ever happening before, except for those New Englanders who thought they’d fallen off the map. And I’m telling you Ads, he looks really…well…depressed. Boy must need his coffee.”
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