Conflicted

Peyton *Warning, Mature Subject Matter*

Thursday, September 23rd. 11:18PM

*Bloop*

1 New Text Message, Swipe to Open.

I ran my thumb across my phone screen to unlock it and read my text.

Preston♡

Baby, come over.

I can't.

I open tomorrow morning.

Preston♡

Please, I miss you. I haven't seen

you in almost a week....

And who's fault is that?

Preston♡

I know. I've been a d**k.

Come over and I'll make

it up to you. ;)

Fine. I'll be there soon.

With a heavy sigh, I rolled out of bed and started to get changed out of my pajamas and back into clothes. It's been three days since I last spoke to my boyfriend and during the last six weeks, we've spent more time fighting than anything else. Graduating had put a giant strain on our relationship. High school sweethearts since freshman year, my first and only kiss, the only person I had ever had s*x with, Preston meant a lot to me. Even though things weren't great, he was still my boyfriend and if he wanted to work things out I'd make the effort and head over. Dressed in my crew neck sweater and my comfy jeans I exited my room and knocked on my mom's door across the hall. I heard her TV blaring and knocked again, harder.

"Yes?!"

"Mom, I'm going over to Preston's. I probably won't stay the night. I work at nine-thirty tomorrow morning," I informed her through the door, shouting to be heard over her true crime show.

"Okay, my girl. Drive safe, call me when you get there," she hollered back.

I grabbed my purse off the bench in the mudroom and went out the door into the garage. I have my own car, but my mom prefers it when I drive hers. Mine is old, no fancy tech or safety features, so whenever she is in for the night, she makes me take the RAV-4. I back out of the garage, roll down the driveway and start driving towards the downtown core where most of the university students live. Preston and his classmates were renting a three bedroom apartment in a five story building filled primarily with other students from the university.

I don't live far, so I arrive sooner than expected. I leave my car in the spot allocated to Preston in the parking garage. He doesn't have a car and doesn't need one. His roommate and best friend, Dylan, is the only one with a car and they all ride together to school. Preston doesn't have a job, his parents are both physicians and he's an only child. They support him financially under the agreement that he put all his spare time and energy into succeeding in school, which they also pay for. Evidently, the need for a car is basically non-existent in his case. As I reach unit 4B, I hesitate, not wanting to knock. I know Preston doesn't have any classes until 2:00PM tomorrow, but I also know Kyle and Dylan both share an 8:30AM class and I figure there's a chance they could be sleeping at this time. Rather than running the risk of waking anyone, I type in a message to Preston.

I'm here.

Don't want to knock

and wake the boys.

Preston♡

Just walk in. I left the door unlocked.

Everyone else is asleep.

Quietly, I let myself into the apartment and make my way through the mess towards my boyfriend's room in the back. It smells like a fraternity house in this place and I don't think I'll ever get used to it. Light glows and flickers from under Preston's door and I can tell his TV is on, with the volume low. I twist the knob and walk in. Preston hears me enter and turns to look at me, that's when I notice the black eye.

"What happened?!" I rush over towards him and grab his chin to twist his face into the only source of light, examining his bruised eye. Immediately, I can tell he's wasted.

"Relax. Was just a bar fight. Some guy made a bet with Dylan that he could shotgun a tall can faster than we could. Dylan beat him and he wouldn't pay up. So I knocked him out, but asshole had a buddy who came out of nowhere and managed to get a punch in," Preston slurred a bit, but it was evident that he was feeling cocky and proud that he and his boys not only out-drank some dudes at a bar, but also won a fist fight too. He smacked my wrist away, making me drop my hand from his chin.

"Right. Sorry I asked. How much have you had to drink?" I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. I was still standing in the same spot and Preston tried to pull me down onto his bed with him.

"Who cares, come lay down with me." It was clear what he wanted, but I wouldn't be putting out tonight. Not after finding him in this state, not after the last few weeks of near-constant fighting we'd had, not when I still hadn't gotten the chance to talk to him about our relationship or gotten an apology.

"Preston, no. I'm tired and you're drunk. I was coming over to talk, not to fuck."

Anger flashed across his face. "You want to f*****g talk? That's all you ever want to do. You never want to f**k me. It's like you think you're better than me. You've been acting like a f*****g priss for months now!" Preston knew exactly what to say to hurt me. I winced at his words.

"Why are you acting like this? You have your entire life being handed to you on a silver platter, Preston. Meanwhile, I'm still at home, working every day and struggling to save up enough money to go to community college... I've noticed your mood lately, all the drinking and skipping classes. Why are you lashing out to everyone who cares about you? You're acting like a spoiled brat." I spat back, no longer the weak girlfriend who continuously took abuse from her boyfriend to initiate the peace.

He stood up then, tension radiating from his body. If he was pissed before, he was livid now. I immediately regret my words as he towered over me. He clenched his jaw and stepped forward, closing the space between us and forcing me backwards in fear until my shoulder blades pressed against the wall. I had nowhere to go. Preston continued to move forward until he was inches from my face. He reeked of sweat and booze, his eyes were dark with anger and lust. I began to tremble.

"Are you scared of me? Is the spoiled brat intimidating you, Peyton? You're f*****g weak," His lip curled as he spoke, venom dripping from his voice. I didn't dare answer. The last time I'd pushed him too far, he'd backhanded me so hard he'd split my lip. I'd told my mom it was an injury from work so that she wouldn't question it further.

"You're a f*****g priss and I hate it. When I ask you to come lay down with me, just f*****g do it. It's like you don't even enjoy it when I f**k you," his breath was hot as it hit my face and neck. I fought back a gag and continued to stay silent, hoping he'd calm down and step away from me. My hope disappeared quickly when he closed off the last of space left between us. The bottom of his ribcage pressed against my chest, his face lowering towards mine.

"I want you to act like a real girlfriend. Fake it if you have to, but make me believe you like it. Prove to me that you actually like d**k, cause lately I'm not so sure," Preston growled.

A tear escaped and ran down my cheek before I could blink it back. That was the last straw.

Preston lost it. He nearly roared as he slapped my cheek where the tear had slipped and he immediately grabbed my torso, throwing me onto the bed. I didn't try to hold back the tears anymore, and I openly sobbed as I pleaded with him to get off me.

He slapped me again, harder this time, on the mouth.

"Shut up, you ungrateful b***h. Do your job, lay down and stay down!" Preston ordered, using his weight and one arm to press me down firmly on the mattress and the other hand to unzip his pants. I wiggled and fought, trying to buck him off me, crying harder and harder. He tugged at my jeans while I hiccuped through my tears. The last blow landed on the side of my head, and my vision went blurry. I tried to hold onto my consciousness, I tried to fight, but I slipped under from his weight and the pain of his punch. I felt him grunting between my legs as I fell unconscious.

Dim, grey light filtered through the curtains and I felt Preston's entire body weight on top of me. My head was pounding from where he'd punched me and knocked me out. Bile rose in my throat when I realized he was not only still on me, but in me. He was out cold but I was still careful not to wake him in my efforts to free myself. Every muscle in my body trembled in terror. My boyfriend, the person I've spent the last four and a half years with, had not only hit me but taken advantage of me. I held back the tears and focused on escaping without him waking up. As soon as I was standing, I yanked my pants back up my legs and grabbed my purse from the floor. I was beyond careful not to make a single sound as I left his room and walked out of the apartment.

I just wanted to get out of Preston's building as fast as possible. My hands were shaking, my heart racing and my eyes watered. I'd dealt with his s**t countless times, but this was my breaking point. Memories of his hot, beer-soaked breath inches from my face flashed through my head as I raced down the concrete steps leading me to where I'd parked the car. The tears were threatening to fall once more. I smacked my palms against the metal push bar on the exit door and sucked in the cold air of the parking garage. I heard a voice curse, and I fixed my eyes on the person across from me. Our eyes met, and I began to sob.