Five Months Ago
She lay in the middleof the bed, still as a corpse, and squeezed her eyes shut the moment she saw him coming towards her. She pretended to hear nothing even as the rustle of clothes was the only sound in the room. It sounded evil and terrifying, but she told herself she was being silly.
Colton was her boyfriend. She loved him, and he loved her. It was only because he loved her that he would think this was right, and because she loved him, she had to give him the chance to prove it was so.
She wanted to cry as she heard him start to groan, but she didn’t. She only squeezed her eyes shut more tightly as his groans became louder and ragged. He was stroking his flesh, and she wondered why the thought made her feel more ill than aroused.
She loved him, loved him, she told herself. She loved him, loved him—-
The hot, sticky feel of come landing on her cheek and neck interrupted her thoughts.
She ceased to think after that. It was the only way to keep herself still and let Colton come all over her face and body, the only way to convince herself that this was right and that he had done it because they loved each other.
When it was over, the bed dipped as he bent down and kissed her on the forehead. “You were good, baby, but maybe next time try to look like you want it more.”
She felt him leave the bed before she was able to get over her shock, which had locked her entire body in paralysis.
FROG ALERT, FROG ALERT, FROG ALERT.
The words of warning released Daria from her shock, and she didn’t pause to think after. She simply made a dash for it, running out of the hotel room barefoot, not even pausing to pick up her purse on the table.
Inside the lift, she desperately struggled to keep it all in while she worked hard to wipe off Colton’s cum from her face and neck. She caught a reflection of herself on the mirror and saw a long white streak on the side of her head sticking to her hair. It should have been funny, but it wasn’t.
When she made it to a cab, she threw up, but Colton wasn’t the one who made her sick. No, she had to be honest this time. She made herself sick, with the way she was so damn desperate to find someone who would love her. She had never gone this far with any of the frogs in the past, but with Colton she had been so desperate that she had lied to herself, telling her that maybe Colton had been right and letting him come on her would be arousing and cure Daria of her sexual frigidness.
God, she was so dumb. Desperate. Dirty.
I’m done.
She covered her face with her hands as she repeated the words until they turned into a vow. I’m done. I’m done. I’m done.
A Taylor Swift song played in the background, streaming from the cab’s radio, and she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, feeling like she was in a scene straight out of a music video for a bad love song.
“Miss?” It was the cab driver. He seemed to be in his late forties, with mostly grey hair and a matching beard, and worry flickered in his gaze as he sought to check on her through the rearview mirror.
With an effort, Daria pulled herself together, wiping the tears from her eyes and clearing her throat before she answered him. “Yes?” She cringed, belatedly noticing the mess she had left on his carpet. “I’m sorry for throwing up in your cab,” she said jerkily. “I’ll pay for the damage.”
He shook his head. “I pay my nephew to clean this up every night, and it would be good for him to work harder for his money.” His voice turned gruff. “Are you all right?”
She choked back a teary, hysterical laugh at the question.
“That bad, huh?” The driver grimaced.
She could only nod, still not trusting herself to speak lest the hysterics bubble out of her nonstop.
He sent her a sympathetic smile. “It’s gonna get better eventually. It always does. You just got to believe.” He raised the silver chain around his neck for her to see.
The sight of the crucifix hanging from the chain made her wince. “I don’t think God’s going to help me.”
The cabbie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Why not?”
“Because...I’m not a nice girl.” She could feel her cheeks turning red as she said the words, which she knew were a gross understatement. She used to believe that nothing she did was wrong – not even when everyone thought she was an idiot – or worse, a slut – for dating so many men, but maybe they were all right. Maybe she was an idiot, a slut, and more. Maybe everything she sought to disprove about Magnolia Everest was actually true, and she was following in her mother’s footsteps.
“We’ve got an hour ahead of us,” the cab driver was saying. “I’m up for a story if you are.”
Despite everything, the older man’s words made her smile a little. “It could end up boring you.”
The old man returned her smile with a kind one. “Try me.”