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the yellow glow on the windshield was shedding, hiding away from los angeles and all the misery of the world. if only it was that easy for me, or for the rest of thousands of pitiful little souls like me.
frankie took a sip from his drink and put it back down, his eyes stuck to the road ahead. the others had begun to turn their headlights on, making everything seem safe. we hadn't said anything since we had left that awful place. the quiet started to bring up unwanted thoughts, and that sneaky guilt built up again. my mouth tasted of sugar and blood. i had bit the inside of my lower lip to pieces. i swallowed, squinting my vision. frankie sighed and passed the back of his hand through his forehead. the sky was darker now, a dimming grey, and the lights from the cars had intensified.
"something's been on my mind", frankie said with now warning.
i lifted my eyebrow and patted my lip.
"what is it", i asked tonelessly.
"what's been on yours?", he asked.
i wondered why he changed the subject. after a few seconds, though, i was pondering upon the fact that he knew something was wrong with me, outside the obvious.
he widened his eyes, his forehead wrinkled up as he looked at me and took another sip of his drink. his eyes were luminous from the lights on the road. i refused to look at him.
"are we gonna play the guessing game penny?", he asked.
i coughed loudly.
"okay... is it about me?"
i shook my head.
"about what's been going on?"
i shook my head again, still looking down.
"about... your past?". he took another sip.
i didn't react.
"so it's about your past. okay, we're getting somewhere". he took a sharp turn on an exit. his phone rang, but he ignored it.
a moment passed.
"why don't you just tell me and make this easier?"
i looked out the window at the forested area by the road. i cleared my throat.
he made a hasty pull-over. the engine eventually ceased to make any sound.
he turned to look my way. i did the same.
i sighed loudly, playing with the skin around my fingernails.
"i've been thinking about a lot of stuff lately, you know... about shit that's happened to me, like really private shit. all this stuff that's been happening has made me, i don't know... think differently about everything... i mean, i never thought that i could have someone like you in my life, someone who makes me feel so safe and happy. i haven't even known you for more than three days yet, but i can tell how you are. every time you've... touched me... i don't feel gross or unhappy. i want you to... keep going... whatever, it's not that... well, it is... but it's not your fault, nor is it your problem... like i said, this, in my eyes, would've been impossible before i met you. remember when you said i was talking during that dream?"
"yeah", he said. his pale face was flushed, but his eyes traced my face during every second.
"i tend to have nightmares like the one i was having that time. when i was younger, doing all that picture shit that you know me for, i was raped"
it was like a ton of rocks was lifted from my back.
frankie's features turned from soft to grim with a dash of cynical anger. he stayed quiet, held everything in.
"the dude that took the pictures fucked me every time i went there. i kept going because it was my job... and i wasn't gonna make money anywhere else. he fucked me 32 times... the fucker counted..."
i took the box of cigarettes and lit one up. i took a drag and let it out slowly, looking out the windshield. frankie stared at me continuously.
i flicked the ashes off the tip and pointed it at frankie.
"i never wanna get fucked again"
i paused and finished the smoke before i threw it out the window. i leaned back on the door crossing my arms.
"and you know what the funny part of all this is?", i said smiling, "that that dick used to always flutter around saying how much he loved photography, how a picture is worth a thousand words, stupid bullshit like that... of course pictures aren't worth a thousand words. that's a fucking understatement. the fucking pictures he took cost me my fucking life... they don't cost him shit except for an eventful friday night, a spill of his nut juice. me? i'm still here, fucked up in the head, an insomniac when i'm alone, which is most of the time... those first few times, you know how bad it hurt? i mean, every girl that's told me about how they lose their virginity, they're always like, 'he went slow' and shit like that. he pushed it in there as quickly and roughly as he could... it was like he broke me or ripped me all up inside. i cried the whole way through... not only 'cause it hurt but because he stole it from me. he didn't give a fuck about what may have happened to me during my life, he just wanted one thing... and he fucking got it... he fucking took it and it made his fucking day... if i called the cops, i'd lose my job. after i left that asshole, i thought of calling the police, but he had disappeared off the face of the earth... i didn't even know his name"
i shook my head, then turned back to frankie. he lifted his eyes and looked at me, biting his whole lower lip. he shook his head too.
he slowly ran his hands on top of my stomach, until they covered both sides of my face. he pushed his body forward, looking over me.
"you'll never get fucked again"
i put my hands around his face as he lowered his forehead onto mine. i heard a car pass by, ignored it. white light poured in, and just as quickly poured out.



*for the people who reviewed: i'm glad you like it :)
i don't capitalize because i'm a lazy ass. lol. read on*