Pretend

The blue house stretched up like a great tree in the sky. Paint peeling like sunburn, it stood sturdy against the cold March rain. We had two weeks until spring break. I took the 27 bus downtown, where I got off on 6th street. My pink, piggy toes curled wet. My flats and hoodie were soaked through, chilling me. I just wanted to be dry, and I couldn't wait to see my love.I ran across the town square, past the court house, down two blocks to 4th street. I remember the Chicken Kitchen; a local restaurant that rumor has it, sold more than Chicken. Two boys smoked cigarettes by the green dumpsters, trying to catch shelter from the rain. Darren lived on the corner by the college field. Darren was waiting on the porch, smoking a cig, and blowing O’s from chapped lips. His mother walked out the door. She said goodbye to her beloved son, so reluctant to return back to her shift at the hospital. I walked up and leaned against the white railing. 

“She doesn't mind that I'm here?” I asked.

“Nope” he said, “She doesn’t care at all. Why should she anyway. I’m 18.”

"But, I'm a girl." I replied.

I guess it was a result of my strict upbringing that surprised me that he had so much freedom. In my house it was not permitted to have a person of the opposite sex over when unsupervised. This was for obvious reasons. But I did not have these type of plans in mind for today. I just wanted a relaxing day with my boyfriend. We walked into the den where Darren's tween brother Travis was playing on the computer with his chubby friend. Travis, like his mother, was a pale, blonde boy and very thin. Darren bullied him constantly. 

“Hey, you little f****t, playing games with your boyfriend?” He asked.

“Leave him alone, Darren.” I said, “Hey, Travis, I think it’s pretty cool that you play games.”

Darren’s step-dad turned sideways from the living room couch. With a beer in his hand, he said, “Darren, leave your brother alone. It’s not his fault he’s a queer.”The alcoholic pig sipped away, turning a blind eye from anything that might interrupt his quality time with the telly. Upstairs Darren’s room was a pig-sty. These sheets were here weeks ago. Cans of Axe covered the dresser. The floor was invisible, hidden my knives, empty pop cans, and soiled cloths. I lost my innocence in a grotesque room of turmoil. I should have said something when he locked the door.

I just pretended to be somewhere else, but I could not ignore the pain that was coming from behind. As he held me, faced down, my screams were muffled by his pillow.I felt helpless. No one did anything. Why didn’t anyone hear me? When it was finally over he just acted oblivious to it. He sat up and turned on the tv to cartoons. I sat there for the longest moment feeling nothing. I felt empty. Crying, I put on my clothes and went down stairs. I stole a pack of smokes from the table, and I never came back.