We’re sitting in the front seats
of my dad’s SUV
Seats leaned back and seat belt off.
Your lips, hot and wet,
leave a warm, sticky trail across my lips
and down to my
collarbone.
You latch on, suck
and for a second I think, hope, even
that you’ll draw blood.
It’d certainly be the most interesting thing
to happen this evening.
Your stupid, shitty music is playing on the radio
Some boy whining about how his girlfriend won’t let him fuck her (ironic really)
“My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me,
So won’t you kill me, so I die happy?”
And your lips keep sucking and all I can
Think about is the voice,
playing loud and whiny,
that’s ringing in my ears.
I want this to be over,
I wish I’d never left my house,
wish I
never broke the rules for you.
I’m pushing at your shoulders, I want this to just stop
And you do.
And you sound just like the guy on the radio,
“Baby, I love you, c’mon don’t be like that.”
You press forward again and I want to dig my nails into
your skin,
Want to see the blood bubble and drip.
I keep pushing instead.
The wind rushes.
Something slams down on top of the roof.
It caves in.
Blood splatters everywhere,
across my face and down your body.
And for a second I think I did it.
God, I wish I did it.
But I turn to see what you’re staring at
and I’m face to face with some dude
and he looks really fucking dead.
I scream.
I scream like I’ve wanted to all night,
pure terror, anger, agony,
All those ‘teenage girl’ emotions, finally released.
I scream until my chest aches,
and I keep screaming still.
You cover your ears,
Look embarrassed.
I wish I did it.
I wish it was your blood I was covered in, your pale face staring back.
The dude is dead and I wish it was you.
Tears running down my face,
messing up the makeup I put on just for you.
My mouth tastes of salt and pennies.
I hope I don’t get HIV.
I don’t know when I stopped screaming.
I fumble the car door open
and manage to get out.
Two doors slam shut behind me.
The cold chills me to the bone, my teeth clattering
so hard it’s the only thing I
hear.
For a second I pretend I’m the slasher in my own horror movie,
Carrie after she killed
the assholes.
I stand outside the car, clothes, hair, face, soaked with blood and tears
and mascara, my hair ratted and sticky.
I pretend it’s your blood I’m covered in,
pretend I finally got the guts to go through with it,
I stare off into the distance, a deer caught in the headlights of my make-believe spotlight.
Your hand suddenly rests on my shoulder.
I’m brought back to reality.
I see your semi-concerned face
and want to throw up.
You smile.
Your hand reaches up,
presses into the hickey I wish I didn’t let you give me,
I wish I fucking did it.