Free Stained by Cheryl Rainfield Page A

but I know I can survive without it. And the gentleness in his voice feels wrong now, put on, like he’s trying to make me trust him.
    â€œAre you hungry or aren’t you?” he asks, anger creeping into his voice.
    Anger is good. That means he isn’t getting what he wants. “Thirsty.”
    Brian grunts. I hear water splash into the cup, and then he holds the cup to my lips again.
    I drink until I can’t drink any more, and then I take a few more swallows. When he fills the cup for the fourth time and puts it to my lips, I turn my head away.
    â€œFine,” Brian says. He doesn’t sound angry this time.
    I feel him move closer, the heat from his body pushing against me. I wish I could see him. Wish I knew what he was doing.
    â€œYou peed yourself. I’d better clean you up.”
    â€œThat’s okay! Don’t bother.”
    Brian snorts. “Don’t be a prude.” He unbuttons my jeans.
    I hit out wildly. “Don’t touch me!”
    He grips my wrists. “Don’t be like that. I want to help you. Can’t let you sit around smelling like that.”
    Down goes the zipper of my jeans. He pushes my T-shirt up, then rests his hands on my hips.
    My skin ripples.
Don’t let this be happening.
    He yanks at my stiff jeans.
    â€œGet off me!” I claw at him, but he doesn’t stop, just keeps tugging my jeans down. I wish I’d never bought my new, cutesy undies, bright blue low-rises with red trim and SUPERGIRL printed on them in sparkly silver. I wanted to feel strong after the pain of my first treatment. Like I was wearing armor no one could see.
    Brian yanks at my undies.
    I kick and punch him, but it’s like I’m not doing anything.
    â€œI’ve waited longer for you than the other girls—but I can wait only so long. You have to know what love is.”
    â€œThis isn’t love! This is rape.” I punch him again.
    â€œNo, Sarah—this is love. Now, will you let me teach you?”
    I scream from the pit of my stomach, as loud as I can.
    He catches my wrists again, pressing so hard it hurts. “I’m not going to hurt you. But quit screaming, or I’ll have to put the gag back in.”
    I can already feel it choking me. I strangle my voice into silence, his overpowering cologne tasting bitter in my mouth.
    â€œYou didn’t give me your answer, you know,” he says, his voice gentle.
    No!
I almost scream.
Get off me!
But I don’t scream anything. I’m afraid he’ll put the gag back in.
    â€œSilence is understood to mean yes,” he says.
    Not with me, it isn’t.
    I hear water dripping, and then a wet cloth rubs over my leg, smelling like Ivory soap. Clean and pure.
    I tremble as he works on my left leg, then my right. I can almost imagine I’m little again, Mom cleaning me up in the bathroom. I want it to be her.
    And then he puts the cloth between my legs.
    I jerk away, but he yanks me back, then pulls me to the duvet, the floor hard beneath it.
    â€œNo, no, stop!”
    He straddles me, using his weight to keep me still. “Just relax.”
    I try to heave him off, and he sits on me harder.
    There is the crinkle of a wrapper, and I can feel him fumbling beside me.
    My teeth chatter. I know what he’s doing.
    At least I won’t have to worry about him getting me pregnant
an inane part of my brain thinks.
    I claw at him, my nails scraping against his warm flesh, catching on his shirt, popping a button.
    He slaps my face. “Stop that.”
    â€œNo!” I shout, my voice breaking.
    He pins my arms down and thrusts his way in. I can feel my flesh tearing.
    Let it be over. Please, god, let it be over.
    I bite him, getting hold of his cheek, then his ear, but he just moves faster, as if he likes my reaction.
    Hot tears and snot burn against my skin.
    All I can smell is him, his musky body odor and stinging cologne. His salty taste is in my mouth, sweat mixed with my