One.

It has been forty-five minutes since I walked through my back door. I still smelt like him. My mother was on the couch, her lover on the kitchen table. I walked on by, past the couch, to the plug where my charger lay. Then I made the steps to my bedroom where I dropped my purse, picked up my pajamas and went to the restroom. There I washed my face while searching for any physical evidence of the few hours before where I had sex with an old friend. One who I gave up on long ago, but in the end, his way won.
It was all a game, I covered my eyes with my hands, I repeatedly joked, "I'm a lesbian" while his tongue danced it's way from my neck to my chest. I wasn't saying no, yet I wanted it to end. Why is it that I don't see it as something so huge, but afterwards I feel violated and used? Why is it that the person I thought I'd be close to all my life not realize that I was not really "into it." Why couldn't I say no and save myself from the feelings going through me now? Why couldn't I save myself from the risk of my mother finding out? Better yet, finding the wrapper of my Emergency Contraceptive Pills I hid above my dresser? I have to take the last one in twelve hours and eight minutes. The box said to take the first one as soon as possible, within seventy-two hours of unprotected sex. I took it within thirty minutes of that, not entirely pleasant, penetration. It wasn't good enough I might add. He said "Oh yeah, you're on birth control." Great. Afterwards I asked, "Did you?" His response-"Yeah." Here it is again, Great.


Beware, my conscience is dirty..blackened by dark thoughts and untold secrets.