I look up at him with tired eyes as I wake from my delirious attempt at sleep, and he looks down at me like I won’t be getting out of this one.
Then it happens: a shadowy smile from above.
“You’re not getting out of this one.”
I groan.
But mostly from pain.
I clutch where my body is puking itself out, and I roll onto my side, facing away from him. This is a situation where coming up with an excuse won’t work, but in a small voice, I try anyway.
“I’m on my period.” I blink hard to make my eyes appear wetter. “Please, not tonight.”
He’s quiet, and the clock ticks in the back. The silence draws on for too long, and I get a little scared. My eyes slide toward his face again. He stares back for only a moment before exploding into laughter.
I just lay there. I didn’t think there was anything funny, but okay.
“So what?” There’s a glint in his eye, and his smirk makes me want to kill myself. “I’ll just use your ass then.” You know, the usual.
I turn onto my side again where he can’t see and squeeze every muscle in my face, as if I’m going to cry. It’s not for him to see, it’s for me to feel. I don’t cry.
I relax my face, returning everything to a neutral state, then turn back to face my future source of anal pain. I only want to return to sleep, so I scowl at him for the first time in a long time. He doesn’t move. He looks down at my face, confident in my defeat, and I lose what little spark I had. My eyes lower, and they dart between him and a strand of hair on the stained sheets.
I think about all the times he’s gotten his way, like when he throws his keys at me to fetch his McDonald’s, or when I let him lock me in the closet at our last Airbnb, or, oh god, that one time at the mall. Normally, I don’t care. I always let him do what he wants. It’s easier that way, really. But today, my body heat rises, and my skin feels itchier than usual. I hesitate, opening and closing my mouth a few times before brave words spill from my lips.
“Go away.”
He stares at me, dumbfounded, for a moment, and his smile drops in surprise.
“Woah, spicy. Girls really do get cranky on their periods, huh.”
“It really, really hurts.”
He scoffs before I can finish. “Don’t care. What did I say earlier?”
“I really don’t—“
“Nah.” He doesn’t blink. “What did I say earlier.” Shadow fills in the blank between our faces. His words are slow, deliberate—as if he’s been waiting for this very moment.
The intensity of his eye contact drains the heat from my body, and I catch the corner of his mouth twitch. Even for a sadistic asshole, I never once understood why he bothers with me. There’s no way I’m that much fun.
He continues to wait for my next move, and my groggy head processes his demand, half annoyed, half tired, and a hundred percent given up.
“I’m not getting out of this one.” My words are slow to make sure he hears me, because otherwise I’d be told to speak up, how rude. “Happy?” The word flies out of my mouth before I can catch them.
And just like that, a too-easy smile slips across his face. He chuckles.
“Yeah.”
There’s a pause as he licks his teeth, standing back up.
“I’ll make it up to you, too.”
“Okay.” I close my eyes.
“I really will.”
“Okay.”
He’s silent. I expect him to crawl on top of me, or maybe tell me to open my little eyes (in a racist way), but hard plastic slaps against my head, with an artificial light that penetrates my eyelids.
“Here, you can play on my phone.”
He shoves his unlocked iPhone 11 Pro Max into my hand, and I squint up at him.
“You don’t have to bribe me with this. I’m not a kid.”
He scoffs as he slips off his pants. “Why are you complaining. You’re the one always asking for it in the car. You can even play Nine Inch Nails or whatever other shit music now. I don’t care.”
His words go ignored, because I was already looking through the apps on his phone. I never had a smartphone before, so the motion of touching a screen is still new to me. I swipe and watch the smooth animations and constantly changing images of my doing, from my own fingers, no intermediary needed.
Before I know it, he’s flipped me onto my stomach as he hovers over me from behind. His hands pull my sweats down firmly, like a child unwrapping a well-earned prize. My bare asscheeks meet the blast of motel air conditioning, goose bumps rising, and I can feel him press his body against mine as I sink down.
I remember that my womb hurts.
Tap tap.
Then I feel it. Hot hands grabbing each one. He spreads my cheeks, and I look up.
“I haven’t cleaned.”
“It’s fine. You haven’t eaten anything since Thursday, anyway.”
“Hm.” I scratch my chin. This is true.
“I dunno, I’d still want to clean up before you—“
“I’ll buy you a burger later.”
A bottle of lube clicks open.
“No, thanks.”
He scoffs. “You gotta eat, dude.”
“No, I don’t.”
I try to squirm, but the string of my tampon almost gets caught under my thigh. He presses down harder on me, so like a bug, I just stop moving. Lube-covered fingers stick to my back.
“There’s this chain around here called Braum’s. The food’s pretty good. I’ll get you something later.”
I clench the phone in my hands.
“I already know about Braum’s. I hate their food.”
“If you get a combo, you can choose a milkshake as your drink for free—“
“You’re not listening to me.”
I feel something wet press against my asshole.
“Wai—“
He doesn’t wait. A flash, and I immediately stop thinking. Hot white sears into my brain. The phone drops from my hand. I feel nothing but an electric shock from my exit, like a plug in the wrong hole. He sucks in a breath and keeps talking, because he knows that I can’t.
“Their milkshakes are really good.”
Shut up.
“It’s also an ice cream parlor so you can choose any flavor of ice cream—“
Shut up, shut up shut up shut up.
“Ahh, you dropped my phone, dude.”
His words are close to my ear. I finally decide that I probably hate him. The quivering of my body never once stopped him from getting what he wants, and I thought I was bad at reading social cues, but he somehow can’t seem to see just how much I hate it when he talks about food. I clench my teeth so hard my head hurts. He places the phone back into my hand, tapping it and opening up an app.
“I got this one for you.”
He grinds, extracting a pained voice from me that doesn’t grant a single drop of sympathy from him. I don’t think he knows how bad I feel. Or maybe he does, and he just doesn’t care. I can’t tell if he just likes hurting people, or if it’s because he likes hurting me. I don’t know why anyone would. It’s too easy. I just want everything to end.
The loading screen flashes in front of me, and I suddenly find it difficult to read. I only see Hello Kitty staring back at me.
I wipe the drool from my mouth and continue to breathe in and out, trying to relax and ease the pain. He grinds against me once more, and my body squeezes and my mouth won’t shut up.
“Does it hurt,” he asks.
“Yes...” I reply.
“Good. Play the game.”
It’s hard to think. My eyes glaze over the screen as he taps on it. He finishes the tutorial for me, and bright colors fill my vision.
“See? Just tap on a group of two or more of these animal things.”
I shake my head. “It hurts too much. I don’t want to play.”
He grinds into me slowly, and very hard. I express my pain through a series of yelps and gasps, but, as usual, they go ignored. He keeps going, and I can’t see anything—can’t hear anything either, besides the pounding in my ears. Nothing in the world exists anymore except for the feeling of pain up my ass, and now also hunger. I’m hungry. My stomach growls.
“Come on, dude. I downloaded this for you. Aren’t Asian girls obsessed with Hello Kitty.”
My contorted arms and fingers are useless at trying to get him off and panic shows in my breath. Tears roll down my eyes and my toes twist into the sheets beneath and I can’t do anything.
Well, okay, I guess I am getting him off, because I can’t fight back without him tightening his arms around me. His movements pick up and his breathing feels hot against my ear, and I can’t help but picture a Chihuahua getting pounded by a Doberman and I’m the fucking Chihuahua. I can’t whine. I can’t cry out. I can’t even play Hello Kitty Friends. I can’t do anything in the land of the free. But I don’t cry.
I open my eyes and see the phone still in my hand. A white anthropomorphic British cat stares blankly into my snot covered face as I get sodomized by the only other Asian guy in the vicinity who pretends he isn’t. I press so hard into the screen my thumbs turn yellow-white.
He just keeps thrusting into me, and I continue to jam my thumbs into the cat’s face, hoping to see her crack. But my body’s lack of sugar, salt, and everything that keeps me alive holds me back as my hands shake. My asshole remembers that it’s used to this kind of thing and it stops being a pussy. What I mean is that it stops hurting enough for me to realize that I’m angry. Something shatters, and it’s not the phone. It’s my own screams in the air, with my flailing limbs thumping against the bed as the backing track.
He stops moving and holds me steady. He never says anything when I want him to speak the most, and now I’m here alone with my thoughts.
My eyes tear up at the frustration of not even knowing why I’m so angry—I just am. But I still don’t cry. He holds me tighter, and my anger erupts once more.
“Let go let go, let GO!” I hiss through my teeth, eyes wide now not from anger but from fear. I’m afraid of anger because I can’t control mine. My fingers dig into his skin, and I kick him where I can’t see. I try to bite, but I never reach him. More tears roll down my face, and he squeezes harder, leaning into me until I can’t breathe, but his grip loosens when my voice shrinks into a small wheeze. Only when I choke on my saliva and untangle the air in my lungs do I realize that he’s been trying to calm me this entire time.
Shhh... Shhhh...
It’s rhythmic, and I lay there shaking as it blends into the sound of my breathing. He unwraps one arm to place a hand on my head, and the warmth of his palm melts my body into a limp. He wipes my tears away with his fingers, sticky with my sweat, and only then do I realize he finally got what he really wanted. My soft sobs coat the walls of the cold room, and I’m warm in his arms.
He slides the phone gently back into my hands, and I wipe the rest of my tears. He unlocks it, typing slow enough for me to see.
0001.
He taps on his photos app and opens up a folder of pictures he’s taken. He flips through a few pictures of me standing or sitting in the distance, unaware of anything around me. At first, I feel humiliated, then disgusted, then my weak social constitution wins over my paranoia. My blood rushes, and I feel him position himself at my entrance again. I wince, prepared for pain, but he enters slow and steady, in and out. He’s gentle, and it doesn’t hurt much at all. By the time I’ve opened my eyes, I see Hello Kitty looking at me again. He pulls his hand away from the phone.
I breathe slowly, try to relax again, and look at the game.
Tap tap.
I make a match and watch little My Melody faces pop off the screen. I feel a smile against my ear, and my cheeks burn.
“Is it fun?”
I nod.
His warm voice swirls in my head, and the tight grip around my body helps numb the pain. He nuzzles into me, and I open the space between my ear and collar for his lips, hanging my head and closing my eyes. I let him squeeze me tighter, my fingers curled around his phone, and I imagine all the times he was looking at me when I forgot I even existed.
My sinuses light on fire again, and he lets me cry as I let him love me.
“Goddamn it, they’re closing soon, just pick!”
“I-I’m trying! I-I... I just—“
“If you just let me buy you shit more often, we wouldn’t have this problem. Just let me—Hey man, yeah, can I get uhh...”
I silently look down at my shoes as I stand on the shit brown tiles. I had stepped on something sticky earlier, so now when I lift my foot there’s a noise. Stepping in place, the sound gently stabs the air with momentary static, like the world’s smallest piece of velcro. I wait for a stern word, telling me to fucking stop that already, but none of that comes. Bored, I take his phone out of my pocket.
I tap in 0001.
Despite being near closing time, we sit down at a table, anyway. We wait for our order, and I’m wiping the crumbs off the table while he covers his mouth, laughing at a shirtless kid throwing a tantrum because his older brother made him drop his ice cream. A number is called, and he stands to leave. He arrives a moment later carrying a tray with a burger, fries, and a milkshake.
“Here’s your reward, sweetie, for being on your very best behavior tonight and not biting me.”
My cheeks flush, and I glare at him, but I reach for my burger anyway. I pick it up between my hands, unwrap it, and slowly lift it up to my mouth. The smell of beef finds its way up my nostrils, and my stomach growls loudly before I can even taste it. I don’t have to look up to know that he’s smirking at me.
“C’mon, eat,” he says as he takes a sip of my chocolate milkshake.
I take a bite of my burger and start chewing. The warm savory juices of the beef squeeze out from between my teeth, and instincts take over. I immediately take another bite, sucking my saliva back in before it drips out of the corner of my mouth. It’s so damn good that I almost want to cry. Before I know it, the entire thing disappears from my hands and my face becomes covered in grease and Braum’s Sauce™. He watches me, content, as he eats the last fry and downs the rest of the ketchup. I neatly fold the burger wrapper and suppress a burp. He brings the milkshake to my face, and I look down to see that he’s chewed the straw already. My cheeks sink into my face as I take a hard sip, feeling the thick, cold drink enter my mouth. I roll it around, tasting the creamy bittersweet concoction as it melts. I swallow and lick my lips.
“Taste good?”
“Yeah. It tastes just like ice cream.”
“Right?”
He smiles back at me, and I think to myself that maybe living for a little while longer might not be as bad as it seems.
