Strike (Sphere of Irony 2)

“We’ll talk about it once you’re in your apartment,” he snaps.

Well what the hell?

I want to be cross with Wes, but the alcohol has me feeling fuzzy, like my body is heavy and my mind is in a fog. I like it and hate it at the same time.

Wes stops to unlock his car doors, then guides me into the passenger seat, pulling the seatbelt across my body. He hops in the other side and starts the car.

“Where do you live?”

“Huh?”

“Kate, you have to tell me where to go,” Wes says. I hear him sigh and rustle through my purse. “Is this right?” He holds up my I.D. with my address on it.

I stare at the small card in his hand, my brain struggling to make sense. “Yeah. That’s it.”

I must fall asleep because the next thing I know, we’re in front of my building.

“Are we there? I’m knackered.” It takes most of my effort to open my eyes.

Wes pulls my key out of my purse before coming round to my side and pulling me out of the car. I lean on him heavily as we make our way up to the flat I share with Abby. It feels as if my head is stuffed full of cotton wool.

Once the door is open, I stumble inside, nearly landing on my arse. Wes moves to lift me up, but I stagger to my feet, suddenly adamant in my independence. “I don’t need your help!”

“Kate!” He follows me to my bedroom, trying to help me walk when I find my coordination lacking. “Christ, let me help you!” he barks rudely.

“Why are you so cross? I hardly know you,” I slur, staggering into the tiny space. I flop down on my bed. “S’not my fault I can’t make my legs work right.” A fit of the giggles overtakes me. I laugh until the room starts to spin.

“Kate,” the bed dips beside me and I feel a warm hand slide up my thigh. “I was mad at you. I didn’t like seeing you with the other guys.”

Fear tingles down my spine. Something is wrong. The way Wes is looking at me, the way he’s looked at me all night. Hostile, possessive, lustful… I remember that Abby is home with her family for the holidays and the fear spreads into my heavy limbs, turning into full-fledged panic.

I’m so bloody stupid!

My eyes feel fuzzy. I want to respond, but I can’t. My tongue is dry and too big for my mouth. Apparently there’s plenty of room in there, because Wes’s tongue has joined mine, the weight of his body pressing me down on the bed. His hands skim down my sides, kneading my breasts before moving to the button on my jeans.

No, this isn’t happening. This happens to other people, not me!

The urge to scream wells up inside my throat, but Wes’s mouth swallows any noise I make. He moans, grinding on top of me. I want to fight, to run, to do something, anything, yet all I can do is lie there as I descend into a nightmare.

He shoves my shirt up, exposing my bright purple bra.

“Wes, don’t—”

“Kate, you’re so sexy.” His mouth devours mine again before I can say anything else. I can feel him fumbling for the button on his jeans and my panic ratchets up another notch.

“Wes! Get off!”

He ignores my protests, pushing down his jeans. Suddenly his hands are back, holding my arms over my head. When I feel his hard length against my bare stomach, I begin to cry.

“You feel so good.”

“Please, Wes. Don’t do this.”

Wes doesn’t answer. His grip gets tighter on my hands and his head drops between my neck and shoulder. He thrusts against me again and again as tears run down the sides of my temples.

I can’t move. I can’t think. The alcohol has completely stripped me of my defenses. I’m totally helpless. As Wes grunts and collapses on top of me, I slip away. A wave of darkness washes over me, taking me from this unspeakable horror. I go somewhere where Dax and I are happy and I’m not cold, alone, and left discarded on my bed like the piece of rubbish that I am.

Dax