Chapter 8
I still vividly remember the days when I lay sprawled out on the bed, blankly staring at the popcorn ceiling while my boyfriend Noah rushed to the shower to wash off. It’s something he’s always done right after we had sex.
I know how crazy it sounds, believe me. But I had stopped asking him why.
It used to make me feel gross. It’s like he was trying to wash any evidence of me off of him.
I grew accustomed to it. Honestly, I wouldn’t know much of what was normal in a relationship.
My parents failed me in that section, too.
Aside from making out with a few guys here and there, Noah was my only relationship and pretty much my first everything.
Okay, I take that back. I met up and had a one-time fling with a guy at the drag strip. I ended up giving him head in the bed of his truck. I know how sloppy that sounds. It was my first time doing anything like that, and for once, I wanted to do something spontaneous.
Danielle may or may not have given me the confidence boost I needed.
She was hooking up with his older brother in the car beside us.
We agreed that if we ever did anything raunchy, we’d do it together because that’s what best friends do, right?
It’s a memory I’d only want to have with her. And it’s our little secret.
Noah seemed different from what I expected out of a guy.
He wasn’t much of a touchy-feely type. Only during our sexual escapades would he caress me in a way.
Don’t get me wrong, our sex life was far from tedious.
Not speaking on the size of his dick. But I had learned so much since being with him.
And foreplay seems to come naturally to me.
But it never felt so much like love, more like a good fuck. I eventually assumed that all boys were different, and maybe this was all I deserved since my life was full of inconveniences. I should have been thankful that he chose me and was in a relationship with me.
Why would anyone want to deal with my mental struggles and a dysfunctional mother? He chose me and was a part of my crazy life. So, I accepted that maybe that was the best I’d get.
Noah and I met at a football game during our senior year of high school. I was seventeen, him eighteen. Our teams were playing the field, the last of the season. I’ll be honest. I know absolutely nothing about football. I know they chase each other with a ball, but it’s never grabbed my interest.
Danielle and I had made a last-minute decision to go.
We had nothing better to do that evening.
Long story short, Noah was standing with a group of guys.
I caught him staring at me while I was shoving a funnel cake down my throat.
I wouldn’t call it romantic by any means.
I had powdered sugar all around my mouth.
I attempted to smile with a full mouth, and a piece of soggy funnel cake smacked onto the pavement.
It horrified me, but he busted out laughing.
So, I smiled back at him, red-faced and all.
And that’s pretty much where our rocky ass journey began.
Danielle immediately had her suspicions, and so did I. However, he easily fooled me in the beginning. He was kind to me, bought me flowers, took me out for dinner, and held my hand everywhere. I was definitely “love-struck” by his commitment.
I thought, for once in my life, I was finally receiving something good for my damaged soul.
The thing is, he knew I was still sacred, untouched.
And I think that fueled his fire. He pampered me for months, waiting for the perfect opportunity to shoot his shot.
He made me believe I was the only girl in the world for him.
And my dumbass believed his fake agenda.
Things changed drastically after he took my virginity.
No more touching aside from intercourse.
I could never touch him until he gave me specific commands.
I was his own personal sex toy. This quickly spiraled into another problem in my life that I couldn’t control.
Control is something I’ve never had. I couldn’t control my mother’s actions.
I couldn’t control the absence and loneliness I felt since I was a young child.
I can’t control the thoughts and suffering that taunt me daily.
Now, the one thing that was once my sanctuary and security has been cruelly taken away from me.
And it wasn’t out of love. I was probably just another young, innocent girl on his list for bragging rights.
He knew I was vulnerable and desperate for attention.
And I allowed it. I fell for his stupid, greedy trap.
Everything about us was toxic. If we weren’t fucking; we were fighting.
There was a lot of yelling and throwing things.
There were close times when I could see it in his eyes.
Moments where I knew he wanted to physically hurt me.
And I was prepared for it. One thing I can say about my mom is that she did not back down from a fight.
And as many as I’ve witnessed with her, best believe I was ready to box any mother-fucker that tried to put their hands on me in a violent way.
And to be quite frank, I think Noah knew that too.
He learned quickly the night I caught him fucking my friend Chloe in the driver’s seat of his precious Mustang. I snatched her conniving naked ass right off his mediocre dick and dragged her through the parking lot.
And that was the last time I saw Noah. He is the reason I have little to no faith in boys. Good fucking riddance.