His Name was Chriss

         Goosebumps grew down from his hot unwanted breathe against my ear. His breathe morphed into something further. I conveyed my wish to leave his room but I was unheard every time. As I felt the sudden release of hormones throughout my body I unwilling tensed with fright. I never imagined myself to be quite so tender during such a misfortune. His hands left a frigid feeling over my skin when he forced my shirt over and off my head. I clung to comfort. I guarded my security. I committed to my will. My utmost attempt fell short. I felt my strength being striped from me as my shirt was. Within seconds, I saw my bra on the floor. His palms returned on me. His lips descended then met his hands on my frozen body. Clinging from my ear down to my breast was a wet and chilly trail from his unwanted lips.
         Quickly, I stumbled through him to move positions. I clearly wasn't safe leaning against the dresser anymore. My mind focused on the closest escape; the door hidden across his room, but I saw no clear path. Almost too quick to notice, I found myself sitting uncomfortably on his bed. To my dismay, he slowly placed himself hovering over me.
         My attempt to cover my discomposure seemed indestructible. My body and mind in this extreme time were struggling to simply live. I was agonized by the presumable fear of him realizing escape was the only thing on mind. I was never one to feel as softened as I did that night. I justified this due to the horror I feared by making him anger. I desperately craved to leave my captor. He so desperately craved to have me. So the advances grew and my cries to disappear were unheard once more.