His room is dirty and musky and there are t-shirts and jeans thrown over chairs and on the floor and there’s this big bottle of lubricant sitting on his nightstand and he’s forceful and robotic and pushes me face down on to the bed and rips my jeans off and starts kissing the small of my back and this, this even hurts me and I just want this all to stop but that other part of me that let me press him up against the counter downstairs won’t let it stop
and I close my eyes and when he pushes into me it hurts and I can’t tell if he’s using a condom because I’ve kept my eyes closed the entire time and he just keeps pushing and pushing and pushing and I never turn around to look at him but instead I just put my face into this pillow that I don’t think has been washed in a while and the pillow starts getting wet which is when I realize that I’m crying but neither of us can hear it because the only sound in the room is heavy breathing and
and my brother holds my head in his hands and lets me sob loudly into them and he tells me that I’m a damned good kid, the best damned kid he’s ever known in fact, and anyone who doesn’t see that is a goddamned idiot and he runs his hand through my hair and reminds me that this world’s a good place regardless of how the cards may fall sometimes and that tragedy is temporary but love and faith are
and once he’s finished he tells me that he has to wake up early in the morning and then he says “you’re welcome, I know you’ve wanted that for a while” and I put on my jeans and I’m sore and I hurt and I open up the front door and the first hint of sun is fighting the horizon.
