Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
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Part 1
I stood at my door and turned the latch one click to the left, vigorously turning and pulling and pushing the doorknob to double check that it was locked for the night. As I turned away from my door, I quickly surveyed my small studio apartment: it was dark, lit only by the tall, antique floral lamp that sat between my bed and bathroom, emitting a hazy yellowish hue. I walked past the bathroom to my left and the kitchen to right, and flopped onto my bed. The day had been long; my office job was mindless and dull, and I suddenly felt solemn thinking of the workday to come as I got ready for bed. I was already in my pjs, underwear and a tank top, but I couldn't help but think of all the appointments I had to confirm as I lotioned my sun-kissed legs and arms, and all the cups of coffee and fake smiles I'd have to serve as I brushed out my long brown wavy hair. Placing everything back on my bedside table, I relaxed into my pillows with a sigh. I turned away from my lamp and curled up on my side with my hands tucked under my head and my knees into my tummy.
I tried to calm myself enough to sleep with tricks I'd read online: deep breaths and calming images of a faraway island with white sand and turquoise waters. I was enjoying the feeling of my body becoming heavy and my thoughts of work finally disappearing, when I heard a sound. My eyes flew open and I listened intently to a strange and barely audible metal-on-metal scratching. But my heart started to race and my eyes grew wider when I heard a sound I knew. It was the front door latch and the thud of the lock being turned all the way to the right - all the way open. Suddenly there was the thump thump of heavy boots on the hardwood floor. My breathing quickened and without moving, I began to frantically look around me. What could I grab to defend myself with? Could I make to the kitchen and into the drawer with the knives? I couldn't get to the bathroom to lock myself in, it was too close to the front door. Suddenly, I felt the bed behind me sink, and I knew I had run out of time.
Part 2
I quickly propped myself up on my elbow, throwing my legs over the bed in an attempt to get my body up and away from the intruder. But he was faster, and his hand clasped over my mouth and his forearm crossed over my breasts with his elbow digging into my ribs. He drew me back down onto the bed and close into his warm body. His stubble dug into the side of my face and his lips were warm on my ear as he began to speak in a deep but surprisingly serene voice.
"I'll take my hand away if you promise to stay calm. Nod your head if you promise".
It was an order. I gave one quick nod in response and he released my mouth, got up off the bed, and stood at my feet in what seemed like a single, fluid motion. Slowly I sat up and looked at my intruder. He was tall, of medium build, and his age was hard to discern. He was wearing blue jeans, a brown leather belt, and a white t-shirt. He had a mop of curly light brown hair that fell onto his forehead and framed a pale face with a wide jaw, full lips, and eyes that were perhaps brown but looked black in the lamplight. As I looked him over he smirked and began to take off his shirt, revealing toned arms and a flat stomach. The fear I had been feeling was being steadily replaced by a new sensation, but before I could understand it he had placed a strong hand around one of my ankles and pulled me down the length of the bed, bridging the gap between our two bodies. Fear came rushing back and I kicked wildly with my free leg, making contact with his thigh. Instead of pushing him away as I had intended, the impact propelled his body forward, forcing him to put his hands and knees on the bed, encasing my body. He let out a mercurial laugh and looked down at my face, white, straight teeth showing past his full lips. He grabbed my wrists and I squirmed my entire body in a feeble attempt at freedom, but his rough hands mercilessly pushed my arms above my head. In my panic, I spit in his face.
"Fuck you," I whispered, unable to find my voice despite my act of defiance.