Hey everybody, here is chapter two, it took me awhile but it's done, just so you know there is some scary stuff in here, and a lot about Collin's past. So if you want to know about him you might want to check it out! Comment PLEASE!

COPYRIGHT:  Uh...yeah....Collins mine too. <3<3<3

Collin

When lacrosse practice is over the team heads inside to change, and I follow sitting down on my bench watching the boys in the locker room as they head towards the showers to get clean. My eyes land on Jason, his dark hair tussled from removing his helmet. His eyes scan the locker room until they land on me, then his features harden and he storms towards me. Oh good god, what now? I haven’t even been here for the past week, what could I possibly have done now?

Silently I lean back against the lockers, watching him calmly as his cleats slam onto the tile, “Sanders your back.” He says simply when he stops in front of me, leaning against the wall.

“Really?” I ask sarcastically, “What gave you that idea, surely not the fact that I’m sitting right in front of you, or that I’ve been playing on the field for the past hour and a half.”

This doesn’t amuse the bigger boy; his face seems to be locked into an eternal look of hate his dark eyes piercing into my skin. His hand comes up to brush back his hair, and I flinch instinctively then compose myself quickly hoping that he didn’t see the brief moment of weakness. “You weren’t in P.E” He recalls, looking to me expectantly as if I’m going to give him some fucking elaborate vision of where I was.

Instead I shrug lazily, he doesn’t need to know where I go, “Yeah I didn’t come to school today, I just came to practice.” Then I slip in a cheeky smile, exactly where anybody else would, truly I have no reason to smile but I know how to put on a good show, “You know you I got to keep my body in shape!”

Jason just stands there staring at me, a look of confusion passing over him. He seems to be studying me his eyes stare into mine searching, so naturally I do what I always do I close them pretending to be tired, “Anyways, to what do I owe this hideous pleasure?” I ask him, wondering where Marcus ran off to.

Jason looks down at the floor before turning his eyes on me full force, “Don’t you think that you owe Caleb an apology.”

Caleb?

An apology I know I owe him, but honestly when I think about it what could an apology possibly do to make up for what I did? I had hit him; I had tried to take him against his will. What had gone through my mind when I locked him into that room? What had I been thinking? Even now I can’t really remember what was going through my head; all I know is that I hurt him. I never really wanted to hurt him, Caleb is a beautiful boy. I’ve known this for a long time, I remember seeing him around school since we were young, he always had a happy look on his face, and he always seemed to be too chipper for his own good. Not to mention he dripped with sarcasm, so it was hard for a lot of people to get along with him.

After watching him for a long time, I finally decided that he was gay and I had yet to sleep with such a pretty boy. Sure I’d screwed a lot of boys, and a lot of girls but for some reason Caleb seemed so appealing with his small body and his deep eyes. Maybe in a way I liked him, but soon my own perverse motives ruined that and the anger and rage that seemed to fill me constantly, came out, before I knew it I was being violent with him.

As soon as Jason had burst into the band room that day, I seemed to snap out of my anger staring down at the injured sobbing boy beneath me, his arms riddled with red marks where my fists had connected, his cheek pink injured cheek covered in wet salty tears.

My heart had lept into my throat; I can still remember the feeling of my airway being blocked by my own realization, before I could get a word out Jason had me in his hands dragging me out into the hallway where students were already starting to gather.

This was my biggest moment of regret, crying in front of all the students in that hallway is still haunting my dreams. How could I unleash that emotion, the emotion that I’ve been hiding so well up until now? The feeling of Jason’s fist only made me cry harder, not in pain but in horror that I had done something so bad that I deserved it. I know I deserved it, that’s exactly why I didn’t fight him back; I just let him hit me.

The sound of something hitting the ground sends me jolting back into reality, Jason’s eyes flicker from where they have been locked onto whatever emotion had come onto my face. Marcus observes Me and Jason, his eyes flickering over Jason before coming to rest on me, scanning my body with an air of parental concern, when he’s satisfied that I’m not injured he turns to Jason his face lighting up happily, “Hey Jason, how’s it going?”

“I’m good!” Jason greets in return taking Marcus’s hand and pulling him into a friendly hug. The action sends a bolt of irritation through me, Marcus is my friend, he’s loyal only to me so why is he touching that bastard? Since when have they been so buddy, buddy with each other?

“No” I respond with a tone of finality. Jason and Marcus both go silent, Marcus looks at me confused but Jason face contorts into a look of anger.

“You’re seriously going to tell me no right now?” he growls, “After what you did, you don’t think you owe him something?”

Marcus turns his gaze on me, expectantly. Does he also expect me to apologize? He wants me to do what Jason says? The spark of anger that ignited turns into a heated flame, and I give Jason a cruel smile, “I don’t owe anyone anything, Caleb should just be glad that he got away unharmed.”

We all go silent as the crowd of lacrosse boys exit the locker room, when their voices have faded away Jason stands up straight moving closer to me, “Unharmed, you think he came out of that unharmed?” his fists dig into the front of my jersey pulling me to stand.

“You can’t complain now can you, you both are out of your dreary closet and happily dating,” I sneer grabbing his hands, thrusting them away from my body, “In fact I think you should be thanking me.”

Jason scoffs, “Like hell, you don’t deserve any thanks, your fucking sick …I hope you rot in hell!” then he storms out of the locker room, the metal of the doors shaking as he slams the door shut behind him.

Sighing I dust my jersey off, turning towards Marcus who has remained silent during the whole ordeal. No doubt because he has no idea what the hell is going on. He doesn’t know what I did to Caleb; he just knows that I beat him up. Marcus is standing completely still, staring down at the floor. His hair is dripping from the shower he took moments ago, the water dripping slowly unto the floor below us, his torso still bare and shiny from the water. “That was close!” I laugh rubbing my head before grabbing my towel, “I’m going to go take a shower, you can head out.”

Before I can make my way out of our locker section, a strong hand wraps around my arm and slams me back into the metal compartments, “Fuck!” I scream in pain as my head aches from hitting against the doors, I slowly rub my temples before opening my eyes to glare at my best friend, “What the hell was that?”

Marcus is standing in front of me his eyes locked on my face in a look of fury, the intensity scares me, and I squirm, “What the hell happened to you?” He growls in anger, his hand that his clasped around my wrist tightening. Fear shoots through me at the sudden boldness of the older boy; he has never acted this way towards me before. Marcus always did whatever I asked him, he never went against me or handled me roughly he always treated me well and went along with everything I did.

“What do you mean; I’m perfectly fine what the hell happened to you!” I spit out at him, struggling to pull my wrist away from him, but the hold he has on me is to strong. Marcus just shakes his head, “How could you do that to Caleb?”

This makes me freeze, and I stare into his eyes. How did he know? How did he find out? The shame almost brings me falling to my knee, but instead I morph the horror into anger, the familiar fire surging through me as I push him away from me. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Smirking I turn to head down to the showers, but his next words stop me in my tracks.

“You tried to rape him.” Suddenly I’m spinning around on my heels and slamming my palms against Marcus’s chest pushing him back against the lockers. “Shut the fuck up!” I scream, but as soon as I push him, he is shoving me back against the wall, the anger that is flashing through his eyes sends chills up my spine and I struggle against him but then go still as he puts his lips of my ear.

“Collin, I think you need to be taught a lesson.” His deep gruff voice has me shivering in pleasure, and my stomach turns over in nervousness. What the hell is going on right now? “Get the fuck of me Marcus, I’m serious!” I hiss threateningly.

“Or what, your small Collin, you’ve always been smaller than me, you can’t do anything to hurt me like you hurt everyone else, go ahead and punch me but I’ll only retaliate with twice your force.” The truth of his words has me shaking, oh god he is bigger than me, but does this mean I have no chance against him? As I’m thinking this Marcus pull his head away from my ear to stare at me, “You’re going to understand how Caleb feels.” Then before I can say anything more his mouth is crashing down on mine.

Marcus’s lips are soft but hard all at the same time, but I don’t have enough time to dwell on the fact as he shoves his tongue into my mouth forcefully, almost choking me. The feeling of his warm tongue against mine sends thrills of pleasure through me mixed with fear. I’m not in control of this situation, I’m always in control. That’s what I prefer when I look for a fling, someone who is going to bend to my will, someone will let me do whatever I want to them giving me the complete power. Not the other way around, lacking so much control scares me……the last time I was in this position was when……god I don’t want to think about it! It’s too horrifying.

Marcus kisses me in a hurry, his tongue dipping in and out of my mouth; I let out a gasp attempting to take in as much air as I can, while pushing my palms forcefully against his chest in a weak attempt to push him away. His skin is warm beneath my fingertips, warm and hard, I struggle against him slamming my fists over his torso repeatedly. Marcus pulls his mouth away from mine briefly letting out heated pants that rocket down my spine and to my cock.

“Take it off!” He growls forcefully, his eyes hooded with lust. “What?” I ask incredulously still taking in deep gulps of air while beating at my best friends strong arms. “Take your fucking shirt off!” He shouts at me.

“No!” I yell back turning and biting down on his arm, he hisses and pulls his arm back allowing me a clear path to freedom, taking advantage of this I make a quick break for it heading straight for the door that leads out into the hallway. Before I can reach it Marcus grabs me pushing me against yet another wall but this time there is a mirror covering the plaster a thin mirror that flashes me my very own reflection.

Inside of the glass I look scared, my eyes are wide in fear, and my body is shaking. My lips are bright pink from having Marcus pushing his own lips against them with such force. Did I look like this back then too? My hands grip at the mirror in fear as Marcus pulls my shirt over my head in one short motion. The cool air in the room sends my hair standing on end and I shiver against the sudden cold bracing myself against the mirror, but when Marcus slides his hot hands down my sides and over I have to bite back a moan. Despite the fact that this is a really familiar situation there is one thing that is new.

The desire.

Before when HE had his hands all over my body, I felt no desire I only felt panic and fear and disgust. Now my body grows hot at the Marcus’s touch and I want to beg him to touch me lower….oh god so, so much lower. The fact that this is Marcus makes it that much hotter, I had seen this boy grow up my whole life. I’d bathed with him when we were little, I rode bikes around the streets of this town with him, and I joined the lacrosse team with him. Back then I had never been so attracted to him, but when I came to this school after…..after…well let’s just say that baby boy Marcus was no longer a baby. Especially now, his tall muscled stature intimidates the whole school, his arms are so extremely fit his biceps look as if they will burst if he puts too much pressure on them. Marcus’s six pack is prominent against his skin and beneath his belly button there is a thin trail of dark hair leading below his pants. The thought of what lies beneath those jeans has me shivering, and I bring my eyes up to look at his strong jaw, covered with dark stubble.

Marcus’s eyes hook on mine through the mirror as he leans against me rubbing his stubble against my neck, I groan in pleasure at the rough scratchy feeling but then realize my mistake and attempt to push him away in fear, not only fear about this situation, but fear of the fact that this whole thing, is probably going to bring whatever form of friendship we had crashing to the ground.

I know what you’re probably thinking, what friendship? My relationship with Marcus should be described as more of a leadership; I’m constantly dragging him along behind me ordering him to do whatever I please. Not caring about his opinions or bothering to ask his feelings on everything we do, I just use him. Besides all this the fact that he was there after all the shit that happened to me and still wanting to be with me, still wanting to be my friend and stay by my side was probably the only thing that kept me sane these past two years. I can’t risk losing that I can’t risk ruining the warmth that I run to when I’m scared. Scared that HE’LL come back….scared that my parents will find out and that they’ll hate me.

Marcus opens his mouth and drags his teeth along the flesh of my neck provocatively; I moan and attempt to wiggle out of his grasp pushing his hands away from my body. Marcus ignores my attempt and allows his hands to roughly dig into my lacrosse shorts. As soon as his fingers come into contact with my erection I let out a load erotic groan then blush and bite my lip, shutting my eyes tightly trying to banish this whole situation. Hoping that if I keep them closed long enough, then when I open them everything will be gone, Marcus will be gone and I will be sitting on the bench waking from a very uncomfortable dream.

The feeling of Marcus rubbing his hand up and down my length assures me that this is not a dream, and that my best friend is touching me, where I never ever thought he would touch. “Marcus stop it, you need to stop it right now!” I hiss in anger fear and lust.

“Open your eyes.” Is the only thing he says in response, “Open your eyes and look at me.”

“No, you bastard!” I groan digging my nails into his arms, I hear him take a deep breathe behind me no doubt trying to deal with the sudden infliction of pain, but still his hand moves pulling me, jerking me closer to the edge. “Open your eyes now, or else I’ll go much further then I originally planned!” He growls and bucks his hips against my backside, I feel his long hard erection push against me and I almost scream in horror.

“Ok, ok, ok, ok, please don’t!” I cry gripping onto his arms, and then I lean my head back and open my eyes. Almost immediately I find Marcus’s baby blue’s in the mirror, he is watching me with a look of anger, confusion and arousal. When our eyes make contact and he jerks his hand I grip onto his arms tightly letting out a small gasp. The intensity of his stare and the fact that he is seeing me in such a shameful way is making me want to cry. How could I react like this to him, he’s going to be disgusted, he’s going to hate me, he’s never going to want to see me again. I try to close my eyes and look away but as soon as I shut them he bucks his hips against me again and I’m forced to open them back up. Our eyes stay connected as he pumps his hand, and I nearly die of embarrassment as my hips begin to jerk into his palm in short fast thrusts, telling him that I’m near completion. He moves his hand faster, jerking me off speedily, and a tear falls down my face as I realize that this is officially the end of whatever we had left, whatever I had left.

“I hate you.” I sob digging my nails into his flesh again, and then I come throwing my head back against his broad chest and screaming out his name as I burst in his hand. For a moment I ride the wave of pleasure that flows through me then I fall to the floor in hate…..for myself.

Silently I reach for my shirt but a big hand reaches down to pick it up for me, and Marcus crouches down next to me holding my jersey with a look of concern. I just snort in disgust as his eyes look over my body, “Don’t you dare act like you have some semblance of a conscience after that!” I spit at him snatching my shirt from his fingers.

“Coll-”

“Don’t, you just ruined everything!” I scream at him then bring myself to stand pulling my shirt on over my head, before heading for the door quickly. Before I step out his hand that was holding me so roughly moments before lands gently on my bare shoulder, and I stop in my tracks holding back a sob, “Where did you get that scar?”

Quickly I turn to stare at him in shock, my scar…..I completely forgot about my scar. He saw it…he saw how disfigured I am, how shameful, how disgusting. Before I know it tears are sliding down my face and Marcus is staring at me his blue eyes full of questions, “You!” I sob in anger, “Don’t you ever come near me again!” Then I wrench my arm out of his hand, running down the hall to the front of the school. The sound of my cleats hitting the linoleum sends echoes of clatter through the halls, and I hear Marcus swear before throwing the bathroom door open and running after me, but I’m too fast and I make it out the front doors and into the parking lot quickly.

I jump into my car and slam the door shut before pulling out of the school parking lot and driving down the road. My car smoothly cruises down the road, seemingly flawless…that’s one thing at least.

Why did he have to do it? Why did he have to ruin everything we had built over the last 17 years? Did he even care about our friendship; did he value it at all? Maybe he thought it was non-existent, it could seem that way at times, but now…now it definitely is non-existent. Tears fall down my face and I scream in frustration slamming my hands down on my wheel in anger before sobbing. Where am I going to go now, when I can’t sleep at night riddled with nightmares? Where am I going to go when I’m scared, so fucking scared needing to be reminded that not everything in this world is bad, not everyone in this world is cruel?

Lies…it’s all lies, the one person that I felt so certainly loved me, wanted me to be happy, wanted to give me comfort and security…..he touched me…..just like that bastard touched me. They are both the same, maybe it’s good that I figured it out before he could hurt me anymore then he has.

Pulling into my drive way I shut off my car and hurry into my house. It’s dark inside seeing how mom and dad are both gone on business trips and he’s also away. The cold emptiness of my house leaves me feeling empty, yearning for Marcus like the old times when I would go to his house to be surrounded by his loving mother, and his shy brother. Those times were the only times I would feel the warmth of a real family, and now I would never feel that again. Stumbling through my dark house I let out a sob opening my father’s liquor cabinet and pulling out a bottle of god knows what. Then I stomp up the stairs to my bedroom, not bothering to attempt at being quiet since no one is going to complain. Tears roll down my face as I walk into my massive bathroom placing the alcohol on the sink before shedding all my clothes and turning on the bath.

I sit on the edge of the porcelain tub, ripping open the bottle and taking a deep powerful gulp, wincing as the liquid burns its way down my throat. I take a few more swigs trying to block out the events from earlier.

Finally the bath is full so I set the alcohol down on the side of the tub, and let myself sink into the warm clear bathwater. Beneath the surface of the water I see the hideous scar that travels down my hip leading towards my groin, stopping just under my belly button. The scar is puckered and pink and it sends flashes of memories at me. Memories that I have always wanted to forget, but somehow they never leave always in the back of my mind, always coming back to remind me of the horrifying events of my past.

(Flash Back)

Yes school is finally out!

This is what I think as I walk up my driveway, hovering over the thought that in a few months I will be able to sit in class with Marcus again. This school year was boring without him there to constantly mess around with, not that there weren’t other kids to joke with but none of them seemed to have the same humor as Marcus and Me. No one understand my jokes like Marcus does, that’s why his mom always jokes that we are each other’s missing halves.

When I enter the house there is dead silence, not a sound comes from anywhere inside, I suppose some people would be nervous about that but not me. I’m used to the silence and the emptiness of my home. My parent’s both work out of country a lot so they are always gone on business trips somewhere around the world, of course I don’t really mind, because even when they are home they pay virtually no attention to me or my brother. They just lock themselves in their rooms-yes their they have two separate rooms-and they don’t come out unless it’s to order food or to head out on another business trip. My brother is slightly better, he sometimes talks to me about school, and hugs me patting my head as if I’m some five year old boy, then he would lock himself back into his room and not come out for days. He says he is preparing for college; he graduated about a year and a half ago, and has been working in order to raise money to pay for an apartment, so he can “Get the hell out of this shit hole” as he so nicely puts it.

Sighing I drop my bag onto the floor, and head upstairs to my bedroom where I take my shoes off and flop down onto my bed. It’s a big bed with a mattress that sinks down when you lay on it cushioning your tired body. It’s supposed to be therapeutic…why I need a therapeutic bed is beyond me. Laying down I gaze around my room, looking at my gray walls, and my dark carpet, next to my bed is a door leading into my bathroom, where there is a huge porcelain bathtub with a giant mirror for a wall. Then of course there is my shower, its walls are clear class, and the tile is pure white. Across from my bed is my dresser desk and bookshelf, which is full of real books, unlike most teenagers my age who seem to fill the confines of their shelves with annoying little trinkets and comic books. On my shelf there is a picture of me and Marcus, developed from a few weeks ago at lacrosse practice. His face seems to have gotten sharper his jaw jutting out strongly in a more defined line. His eyes are bright as he laughs at the camera, and his hair is getting a little long curling towards the back of his neck. His jaw is covered with a light sprinkling of stubble that he’s been trying to grow out, and his arm is wrapped around my shoulder in a friendly embrace. I’m laughing happily at the camera, and I seem to remember our coach making some stupid joke that had Marcus and me trying desperately to keep our bladders solid. While we were laughing at it he took the liberty of snapping a picture telling us that it was a true Kodak moment. Now looking at it I realize it was, the two of us seem to be frozen in time laughing happily for eternity. I chuckle at the picture then turn my head and close my eyes, slipping off into sleep.

The feeling of a hand running up my shirt jerks me awake, and I yawn sleepily rubbing my eyes before blinking in the semi dark room up at my brother. “Gregory, what’s going on?” I ask upon realizing that my brother is sitting on top of my legs, the weight of his body pinning me down. His hand is sliding up my torso slowly, stroking up my abs, his fingers run over my nipple and I shiver. “Gregory what are you doing?” I ask my nerves beginning to jumble; fear is beginning to course through my veins.

Why should I be scared though, it’s just my brother right? He won’t hurt me…right? Gregory doesn’t say anything just runs his hand up my torso again feeling me. His breathing becomes labored and I start to get even more freaked out, “Greg get off of me now.” I demand wiggling underneath him. His hand searches the semi dark for mine, and once he is gripping it he guides my fingers through the air until they touch the front of his jeans, he’s hard and erect beneath them and I gasp, almost choking in fear. Quickly I yank my hand back and attempt to use all my strength to hoist my elder of five years off of my body, but he’s too big. His hands slide down my torso then stop at my jeans, where they rest for a brief second before unbuttoning the rough material. The fear that is lodged in my throat suddenly releases in a terrified scream, but as soon as I the sound escapes my mouth his hand is swooping across my face sharply. The sting of his hand sends me into silence, and tears prick my eyes. “Shut up!” He growls before scooting off of me and yanking my jeans off of my legs. The sudden chill of the air has me shivering and I try to crawl off the bed while the weight of his body is gone but he notices and grabs my ankle hauling me back underneath him, I scream as he drags me back across the bed tearing my shirt over my head at the same time. Sobbing I grip my bed in terror at the realization of what is happening. When I hear him start to pull off his clothes I make another attempt of escape only to have him push down on my back and dig his bare knee into my spine causing me to wail in pain. When he’s finished undressing he leans over my back hooking his fingers into my underwear and pulling them down. I sob as my last shred of clothing abandons me and dig my face into my pillows in horror, the sound echoing off of the walls of the bedroom.

Gregory touches me, he touches me in places that I never ever would want to be touched by a brother his hands pulling, stroking, pinching, poking, all the while I’m sobbing into my pillow in disgust at how my body seems to be reacting. I don’t want it to be this way, I don’t want to feel this way, it’s disgusting! Things are silent for a moment before I hear the sound of something ripping, with a sob I attempt to turn around and see what it is, but then there’s pain.

So sharp, and so excruciating like I’m being torn in half, that I scream. The sound assaults my own ears as I continue to scream as he continues to force himself on me. The sound of the front door slamming shut, sends us both into silence, then I hear a suitcase being dragged along the floor and my parents talking in hushed voices, I sob loudly in relief but the relief is soon gone as my brother digs his fingernails into the flesh of my hip sending me screaming into my pillow as he drags his nail down across my body drawing blood. He leans down to my ear and hisses, “ Don’t you make a sound, if mom and dad see you they’ll hate you forever, they’ll think your disgusting and they’ll send you into a foster, home do you understand me, they will hate you forever you piece of filth!” I sob into my pillow at his harsh words the as he begins to move inside me I bite my arm as hard as I can at the pain.

The picture…

My eyes find the photograph of Marcus and I and I sob against the flesh of my arm, tasting blood as my teeth dig deep.

Marcus….please don’t hate me.

(End of Flash Back)

Sobbing I take another long swallow of the alcohol in my hand, before letting out another choked cry. Everything is ruined, everything is gone.

My parents never found out about me and my brother, but he continued to abuse me through that month, until he left for college. The relief that flooded me when I woke up that morning to see a note from my parents that he had done, and that they would be home in a few weeks was so strong that I actually started to cry. What had I done as a fifteen year old boy, to deserve the pain, and the humiliation that was inflicted upon me? What could I possibly have done? I was always so good, I was always so nice to everyone around me, but still the horrors that I had to undergo……that’s nothing that a child so young should have to go through….ever.

Even after Gregory left I stayed locked up in my house, so completely afraid of people on the outside. How will they look at me? Will they see the filth that I now carry on my body? Will they look at me and turn their heads in disgust? Would Marcus look at me that way if he knew? Would he hate me, and never want to speak to me again, never want to acknowledge the fact that he had once hugged, and held this battered disgusting worthless piece of shit?

These are the thoughts that keep me from ever telling him of what happened to me the summer of my 9th grade year. These are the thoughts, and the nightmares that harass me in every waking moment, and every night I go to sleep. What I would give to never have to remember this, the day where my life was torn in half and my innocence was ripped from my hands leaving me bleeding and empty lying on a sheets that smelled of sweat, blood and sex.

The photo of Marcus and me that sat on my dresser I could no longer look at after that night, I turned it towards the wall, not wanting his eyes to see the abuse that I went through at the hands of my brother. Brother, can I even call him that?

When I went back to school after that Marcus seemed worried, he asked me where I was all summer, saying that his mom said I went on a vacation with my family. So I just nodded and tried to seem happy and ecstatic, but after that I think my mind sort of went away, along with any values that I had. Girls would look at me lustfully, so I would take their hands and lead them to my bed, then I started to see boys looking at me and I took their hands but I threatened them that if they ever told anyone of it, that I would make their lives a living hell. So they would just stay with me for one night, and then drift away leaving me behind. The only one who never left me was Marcus, he always stayed at my side, his constant presence reassuring at times, then painful at others, the only thing that made me feel better was the fact that he loved me for me; he didn’t want to use me and throw me away like some fucking condom. He stayed with me and tried to make me happy, so I acted happy for his sake.

Now everything is broken, he used me exactly like everyone else used me, but before he can throw me away I’m going to leave him. He’ll never have the pleasure of being the one to abandon me…no…I abandon him. I know that the fact that he touched me like that, and used me like that should make me hate him, make me boil in anger, but all I can do is cry. Cry that the only person I’ve been holding dear to my heart could betray me. Cry because now I’m alone, I’m all alone.