Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a liquor store. I considered it for only a minute before parking my motorcycle in the parking lot and entering the store. I tossed my hair to the side, sweeping it off my forehead so I looked older than my sixteen years. I took a minute to look through my choices before settling on a tall-necked bottle of strawberry banana vodka.

The man behind the desk, a short, wiry guy with tattoos up and down his neck, looked me up and down suspiciously when I set the bottle on the counter. "Let's see some I.D.," he growled, eyes squinting at my thin frame. I flashed my fake I.D. at him, faster than a flash of light. He huffed in disbelief. I sighed in exasperation. I didn't usually have to go to this much trouble.

I dug in my pocket and withdrew with a stolen (probably) hundred dollar bill. I slid it across the counter and grabbed my vodka. "Keep the change," I said, and hustled out of the store before he had time to change his mind.

"Wait a second!" The clerk appeared at the store doorway, waving at me to stop and come back. I laughed and swung a leg over my motorcycle. I was out of the parking lot and on my way home before he had time to cross the doorstep.

I reached home a little before six o'clock and parked my bike in the garage. I hesitated before going in.

My parents don't care about what I do or me in general, but I'm not stupid.

I grabbed my pink breast cancer awareness bag from the hook it was hanging on in the garage, and stuffed the bottle of vodka inside. Then, I waltzed through the door to the house, stalking purposefully up the stairs to my bedroom. Once there, I started to open the bottle.

A soft rapping on my windowpane startled me out of the task at hand. I looked out and jumped back in surprise. A young man, about eighteen years old, was leaning against my window lazily, flicking the sill of it up and down.

"Who are you?" I asked, letting the question roll off of my tongue more flirtatiously than I meant it to. He smiled at my tone and said, "I'm Tyler. I happened to see you walk in with some feel-good juice, and I happened to want some."

"Well then," I said, "You can come on in." I wasn't exactly feeling my best that day, but I hoped that maybe a bit of intense, drunkenly hazy pleasure would change that. I reached over and unlatched the window. Tyler threw one lean, tanned leg over the sill and climbed in effortlessly.

I took a moment to exercise my signature move - check him out blatantly. He had a shock of black hair that was swept off of his forehead and styled attractively. He also had deep brown eyes that resembled liquid chocolate more than I wanted to think about. He was wearing a light grey T-shirt and low-waisted jeans with old, beat-up Converse. As far as looks went, Tyler was the best-looking guy that I had encountered thus far.

I patted a spot on my carpet, and Tyler sat down, a few feet closer to me than where I had indicated him to. He reached for the bottle and took a long drink. "Damn," I mumbled. I was an expert at shots; I had never drank that much in one sip before.

Hey, there's a first time for everything, right?

Tyler passed me the bottle and I boldy drank the neck off of it. He smiled approvingly, and I smirked in response. "So, I guess the stories about you being the biggest party girl around are true," Tyler commented. "Getting drunk on a school night with your parents just downstairs? I'm beginning to think that you're my kind of girl." I smiled, using my best predator skills. "Damn straight. And you're my kind of guy."

"Well, that's good, then," Tyler said, and leaned forward to meet my waiting lips. I wrapped them around his, and he wound an arm around my waist. There was nothing special about the kiss. Cold, chapped lips. Routine, cool. Unemotional. It was so normal for me to just kiss someone and pretend it meant something more than just a good time.

I went through the motions, just like any other night, but truthfully, I just wasn't feeling it. If it were any other night, I would be reciprocating ferociously and allowing myself to be pinned and taken. But that night, I was tired. Physically and emotionally. I just wanted to lay down, drink, and forget.

So, I pushed gently on Tyler's chest. If I was lucky, he would visit me on a better night and then we could play around.

But, not tonight.

"What's wrong, baby?" Tyler asked, finally releasing my lips. He rested his forehead on mine, breathing heavily. "No," I said, pushing against his chest again. "We can't do this tonight." "And why not?" he asked, pressing closer. "We just can't," I replied. "You can come back tomorrow night if you want. But as for tonight, no. Leave." "Oh, I don't think so," Tyler said, and quickly captured my lips again.

I was appalled. No man had ever disrespected me in such a way. My anger grew when he didn't respond as I shoved rather violently as his rock-solid chest muscles. I tried to jerk away from him, but he snaked an arm around my lower back and held me, squeezing my butt a bit.

Disgusted, I raised a hand to slap him with. Tyler caught my wrist and suspended it and my other wrist in mid-air. I kicked my legs frantically, trying to get away from the excuse of a human being in front me.

"Stop it, bitch!" he whispered harshly in my ear. The fear of what was about to happen was overshadowed by my anger, which bubbled immediately to the surface. I twisted my hands, trying desperately to break free from his grip on me. He held my wrists tighter than before, to the point where his fingers were leaving bruises. A few tears of frustration began to form in my eyes.

Tonight really isn't my night.

I was tempted to call out, but I knew that if Mom or Dad answered, I would be either majorly screwed or they wouldn't care enough to stop what was happening. If Carrie answered, she would probably tell Mom and Dad. Besides that, I hated asking for help. It just wasn't me.

I didn't say anything.

Tyler smiled. "Good girl." I stopped fighting him. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle, but I ignored the feeling of dread squeezing my lungs.

If I'm obedient, he'll get bored of me and leave.

Tyler slipped his hand into the hollow between my breasts, and I immediately tensed. "Relax," he said, his face twisting into a sick sort of smile. I inwardly cringed in disgust, but bit my tongue.

If I just let him, he'll get bored before anything can really happen.

He'll leave; I'm sure of it.

Tyler, unaware of my mental battle, twisted his hand down farther into my shirt and stroked my left breast. I felt a few tears behind my eyelids, and angrily blinked them away.

When does this stop?

Suddenly, the hand holding my wrists together dropped them.

That's a good sign.

Maybe he'll leave now.

Just as that thought entered my mind, the hand that had been suspending my arms above my head inched lower on my body and unzipped my jeans.

Okay, that's too far.

I opened my mouth to scream for Carrie, but Tyler was too fast. He clapped a large, beefy hand over it. "Scream," he said. "I fucking dare you." The dangerous side of me wanted to scream just to spite him, but the rational part of my brain was much too afraid to even dare.

Instead, I raised my hand, intending to slap him. My palm connected with his left cheek, causing a harsh, sharp sound to ring through the air. "You bitch," he said. "Do that again; I'll make sure you regret it." I shuddered. The tone of his voice did not set well with me.

Tyler ripped his hand from inside of my shirt in order to punch me in the side, so that I couldn't do it again. I gasped and doubled over from the ferocity of the punch.

Tyler took that as an opportunity. He wrapped his thick, bulky arms around my torso and the curves of my hips. Lifting me bodily, he threw me, with much unnecessary force, onto the bed. I tried to scream, but all that came out was a mere whimper.

"Hush, or I'll give you something to scream about," Tyler whispered in a dangerously husky voice.

What will happen to me if I just let him do what he wants?

Will he stop?

Every time that I tried to scream, my voice gave out.

It's like fate thinks I deserve it, too.

Tyler ran his eyes over me greedily. I guess he decided that I wasn't enough as I was, because he jerked my shirt up and over my head, until the red bra that I was wearing was exposed to him.

"Ooh, I like," he said, and tried to run his hands across the velvety fabric. I grabbed his wrist and tried to twist it so as to hurt him somehow. Before I could get a good enough grip, his fingers latched onto mine and flung my hand away from his. "Looks like someone's a little feisty tonight," he said, winking at me.

Ugh.

"Just how I like it."

Keeping his eyes trained on me, Tyler backed up and started digging in his pockets for something. Immediately, I tried to run to my window in order to escape. He caught me in his arms easily, and held me against his chest. I struggled, kicking and scratching and biting, but he was too strong.

Tyler finished hunting around in his pockets, and procured a length of rope. The implication of what was about to happen to me hit me like a ton of bricks, and tears began to roll down my cheeks.

No.

Oh, gods, no.

I wasn't used to being on the losing side of things during fights. I was always the winner because I had never been stupid enough to fight someone who was stronger than me. I had never been in that type of situation, where I couldn't overpower my adversary, before.

Tyler grabbed my wrists, and though I fought viciously, he quickly tied them together. He then walked me to my bed and roughly threw me down again. I whimpered in dismay as he proceeded to tie my wrists to my bedstead. After my hands were suspended above me, he tied my ankles together and then lashed those to the bed.

My voice still wouldn't work, as I tried yet again to scream for help. "Uh-uh," Tyler whispered, shaking his head slowly in a way that sent shivers of apprehension down my spine. "As much as I'd love to hear the sounds that you make, we wouldn't anybody to come and disrupt our fun, now, would we?" I stayed silent as he found a small quilt that I had kept from when I was a baby and stuffed it into my mouth.

I tried shaking my head violently to loosen the gag but was met with bitter disappointment as it stayed tightly in place. It was so tight that I couldn't even mumble around it.

Tyler stood over me and rolled his hungry eyes over my half-exposed body once more. An unbearable feeling of vulnerability began to wash over me, and my heart began to pound harshly against my rib cage. I took a deep breath, trying desperately not to hyperventilate. Desperation crashed over my head like a wave on a boulder, and I squeezed my mouth tighter against the quilt again to avoid crying.

I shuddered in utter horror as Tyler reached behind me and unclipped my bra, tossing it aside. My chest was fully exposed to him. Tears leaked from my eyes. All I wanted was to get away.

Trapped.

Help me.

Someone please help me!

I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. All I could do was lay back and wait for the inevitable to happen. Tyler reached for my left breast with one hand, and the other hand began to slide my jeans down. I struggled against my bonds, beyond the point of desperate.

This can't be happening.

It's a nightmare.

It's all a nightmare and I'll wake up soon.

This can't be real.

Tyler slipped his shirt over his head and unbuttoned his jeans. All the while, one of his hands was roughly caressing my breast. His hands were disgusting and they were on me.

I couldn't get away.

Another whimper escaped from my throat as Tyler finally got his pants down. He was left in boxers only, and I was left in underwear only. More tears dripped silently from my filled eyes as Tyler squeezed my breast firmly in his left hand. His hands were a foreign, unwelcome feeling, and I had never felt more scared in my entire life. I couldn't control the sobs that were tearing at my throat. My heart pulsated uncontrollably as Tyler's hand hooked onto the waistband of my panties.

Don't do it. Please don't do it.

He did it.