"That Other Night"
1488 Words
The rain paused, just long enough for Izzy to realize how cold she truly was…
It was the first time she had had to walk away from love, not knowing who she was without it. She kept whispering Maxwell’s name under her breath, as if it would call back the version of her that he had once loved. The girl that died somewhere between the s*x that was followed by a shove, a slammed door, the wind, and the silent-deafening downpour.
Her chin rested softly on her knees, as she stared at the road. Every drop of water on her skin took her back, back through the corridors of memories to “that other night” seven months ago.
The pressure at home has become relentless. So, eventually, worn thin by aunt Nene, Izzy agreed to go out with Maxwell. He had assured everyone he’d wait until she turned eighteen.
One night, Aunt Nene had dropped her off at Maxwell’s. “Be patient with Maxwell, Izzy, I do not want to get any more negative reports, nor from this visit” She added, zooming off.
Max smiled and waved at Aunt Nene, as he helped Izzy with her bag.
“You’ve had a long day,” he said. That was his usual line. So he drew her a bath as was his custom.
She dressed herself behind the door, as always, then tucked herself under the duvet in the room that was slowly starting to feel like hers.
That night, she had fallen asleep to the sound of rain. The room was dark but not unfamiliar. While it thundered, Max snuggled her further into the safety of his arms. It was warm and tender, it felt like the future she had always dreamed of. A few hours had passed, and she had long fallen asleep when she felt a pull…
At first, it was nothing. Just a whisper. A soft shift in the mattress. A muted groan from the old bedsprings. The subtle weight of a body settling beside hers.
Izzy didn’t flinch. She was drowsy. Warm. Draped in the hush of a warm sleep. Curled like a question mark beneath the sheets. Innocent, vulnerable, unprepared.
Then something touched her thigh. Firm. Insistent. Warm. A presence too real to be misunderstood. She stirred, her lashes fluttering open like petals fighting the wind.
“Max?” Her voice was a whisper. Unsure. Afraid to be right. There was no answer. Just the heat of his breath, thick and urgent against the nape of her neck. His face buried in shadows. His silence pressing in louder than any scream.
“What, what are you doing?” she asked, with a voice that was thinner now.
”Come here, Baby.” He muttered, but this wasn’t a request. His weight fell onto her. Heavy and Unyielding. His hips slotted between hers like a blade drawn from its sheath.
“I love you, Baby. We’re gonna get married soon…” Max added. These words were like velvet wrapping around a dagger.
As he ripped through the fabric of her defenses, stripping away what little still covered her skin. She tried to resist, to wriggle free, tried to place her hands between their bodies like a barrier, tried to close her legs, to say ‘no’.
But Max was already fused to her. Like a stamp to a letter. Like grief to memory. He wouldn’t let go.
Her body turned to stone. But Max’s was movement itself. Rough, selfish movement. Never pausing. Never seeing if she was okay.
“Max… please. You promised…” Her voice cracked, not just from pain, but from betrayal thick in her throat.
“I don’t think… it’s not the right time. Not now. Not today. It’s going to hurt. This could go wrong, I’m not ready…”
“Aunt Nene, would be disappointed, Max!”
She broke into tears, but he didn’t blink. He just heaved passionately and whispered with sparing breaths:
“I can’t stop. I’ll get blue balls… and it could be dangerous, you know that, right?
Please baby, just a part of the p***s, not all of it, just the head. Just a little. It won’t hurt if you relax. But it could kill me if I stopped now, I love you. I’ll always be here…”
Then he growled in what sounded like pleasure.
She thought to herself, “maybe this was how love worked, maybe s****l arousal was like an invoked aura that overwhelms you and doesn’t let go until it has been appeased indeed.
She had barely finished the thought process, then it dawned on her that there was no “just” to how deep he truly longed to go. In one breath, he forced himself to unfathomable depths..
All the way in, 'balls-deep' in. As if her pain was merely a background noise. As if her body was a vessel for his want, not her own.
He groaned. Eyes rolling back, wide-mouthed and panting panting in pleasure that had no place here. He moved like she was nothing but skin, warmth and silence. Like she was a stranger. Or maybe a toy who couldn’t feel, or hear, or see.
Izzy couldn’t scream, she was too frozen to summon her vocal cords. She Didn’t fight. Maybe a part of her froze. Maybe a part of her didn’t believe It was happening. Not “Max”. Not “Him”.
She placed both palms over her face. Not to cry louder, but to disappear into the dark. To escape into the safety of a castle she had built in her mind where she always went when she felt unsafe, or afraid. To pretend her body wasn’t betraying her, or that she hadn’t betrayed herself by listening to her aunt in the first place. Or by paying deaf ears to when Ms. Prosper had told her to rebel against whatever barbaric arrangements her Aunt was trying to make with her name in mind. To float away from the stabbing pain and ache that tore through her like broken glass.
Max moaned even louder…
Growled more… vibrated with each thrust like he was chasing something beyond her, something wild and selfish and monstrous.
“You are so tight, so sweet, I’m losing my mind!” He kept growling, pounding even harder like his whole life depended on it.
She kept sobbing, quietly, endlessly… wondering when it was going to end. His grip was iron. His rhythm merciless. She couldn’t run. Couldn’t fight. Her body wouldn’t let her. All she could do was watch, bleed, wait.
Wait for it to be over. Wait for the hurt to lessen. Wait for morning, although she feared it would never come the same way again.
And then, finally, he collapsed.
His breath heaving, it sounded like he was going to shed tears of joy. Body still pressed so deep she thought he’d never leave.
Then he exhaled, and quietly rolled over. Back turned. Curled up in a fatal position. Sheets pulled to his chin like he was cold. Like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just stolen something she could never reclaim. Moments later, his breath evened out. Snoring. Fast asleep.
Izzy stayed awake.
Bleeding, inside and out, staring at the ceiling as if it might offer answers. He had just crossed the line she’d been saving for the wedding night. And all he left in its place was silence, shame, regrets, and the ghost of a girl who used to believe in happy ever afters…
Blood oozed some more, and then it slowed. The bed was drenched. Like a whisper from something sacred that had been broken. So, Izzy escaped back to the castle in her mind where she’d always go whenever she felt trapped, scared, confused, or unsafe. Where no pain could go, and no one else would know.
“In her head she saw those immaculate white sheets, the left over cake from her wedding, lying in the fridge, red petals, lit candles, bouquets of roses lying around. The white long dress she had once sketched on the pages of her journal and the green emerald ring around her ring finger. Soft, slow music in the background, tiny blue lights reflecting in the corners of the room, and most of all…
The slow sacred night she’d dreamed of. The night where someone would love her gently and declare: 'I SEE YOU.'
Just like she and Maxwell had always talked about…”
But there were no candles tonight. No vows. Just the sound of rain. Just a seeming stranger curled up at the other end of the bed, just her entire life unraveled like a pulled thread.
This was the night her innocence folded in on itself. And she never told anyone.
Not yet…
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