Falling Alone

*Trigger Warning* Contains an explicit SA.

Author's note: As always, this story can be read as a stand alone, but you'll have more context if you read the other Falling stories. The order of which is listed in my bio. When crafting this series, it's been hard to know how far to push. It deals with heavy material that I don't take lightly. This story is probably the most sensitive one out of them all. While I debated whether to tell this part of the story, I felt that the prompt was right. It wasn't easy to write. Please let me know your thoughts. Did I cross the line?

Update: While this still remains a very sensitive story, thanks to some great feedback, I did some edits to hopefully make it less graphic.

“Happy birthday to you.” Jenny finished singing. She held the cake, chocolate, Ethan's favorite, in front of him. 

On cue, he blew out his number 3 and 4 candles in one breath. 

She placed the cake on the square wooden kitchen table and took a seat in its matching square chair facing Ethan. He was already sitting in an identical one. He removed the candles from the cake. Then, he swiped his finger through the chocolate frosting, and painted it first on her forehead, then nose, then cheeks, and finally her chin. She laughed, and then reached up to wipe her face. He grabbed her wrist.

“I got that.” His hands held the sides of her head; his mouth found his masterpiece kissing her face clean, but he didn’t stop at her chin. His lips glided down her neck to the spot where vampires bite and hickeys are formed.

She titled her head back, eyes shut in enjoyment, breathing in hints of damp earth and pine. He dragged her onto his lap so that she was backwards in the chair. Next, it was her turn. She ran her hand through the frosting. She lifted his face, smeared it on to him, and devoured it.  He wrapped his arms around and lifted her up.

After a few steps down the hall, Jenny half seriously and half-jokingly told him to put her down. 

“In a minute.” He walked into his room and tossed her on the bed.

She sat up and leaned against his pillows. “Do you want to watch a movie? I could make some popcorn.”

“Funny.” He replied.

“Why is that funny?”

“Oh. You’re serious.  No, I don’t want to watch a movie." He said. With a thought popping into his head, he ran out of the room.  He returned just as suddenly as he left carrying the blue pinstriped tie that Jenny had given him moments before the cake painting. “How about a little tie action?”

“What?” She asked.

“Well…I mean…I thought about using my handcuffs, but that probably wouldn’t be… such a good idea.”

Jenny’s eyes almost popped out of her head. “Ohhh. You thought…Babe, we talked about this.   

“You talked.” He removed his shirt and approached the bed. He grabbed her feet and pulled her down. The tie wasn’t the only gift he wanted.    

“Ethan, I don’t want...”  Jenny scrambled to prop herself up onto a pillow.  She grabbed another, put it in front of her, and clung to it.  

 “You see, this is why I love you, because you’re cute. You know? Thinking you’re going to hell if you have sex before marriage." He removed his pants. 

His words slapped her in the face. “I…uh…” Her heart pounded in her ears.    

“It’s okay Jenny. Humor me? It’s my birthday. I should be able to wear my birthday suit.” He winked, removed his boxers, and climbed onto the bed.     

“I’m sorry Ethan.  I can’t.” Tears welled in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry too.” He pulled her back down.  The pillow fell to the floor.     

Her dead weight limbs only succeeded in making him rougher as he manipulated her out of her clothes.  Pinning her wrists above her head, he restrained them with the tie. He hesitated, and for a moment Jenny thought her nightmare would end. He leaned over and reached into the nightstand drawer for protection, but it wasn’t the safety she was searching for. He put it on anyway.   

Fear simultaneously paralyzed her and heightened her senses. His kisses were confusing. They felt familiar, good even, yet she didn’t want them. His earthy forest scent overwhelmed her now. For the second time tonight she shut her eyes, but this time in avoidance of his gaze, and maybe, just maybe, she could wake from this dream.  

With every touch she quivered, involuntarily reacting, feeling nothing and everything at the same time. The adrenaline that rushed in gave her mind the false confidence that she could stop him, if only her body would obey.  It remained powerless.  A hot searing pain flooded every fiber of her being. She yelped. He continued anyway.  This act wasn’t going to send her to hell; she was already there.   

Her body shook and then went still. Only numbness remained.  When he finished, he was sweaty and hot, and he was crushing her. 

Afraid of his reaction, but more afraid of suffocating, she whispered, “Ethan.”

“That was good, right?” He sighed, smiling.   

 “Yes.” She squeaked.  It was more dangerous to disagree.  

“I knew you just needed a push.”

With her stomach churning and bile rising in her throat, she tried again. “Ethan, I need to use the bathroom.”

“I don’t want to move.” He grunted.

“Ethan, please.” She begged. 

He finally extricated himself and rolled off.

She flew out of bed too quickly. Dizzy, she stumbled into the bathroom, slammed the door, and collapsed onto the cool tile. The cake and spaghetti she had so lovingly made hours before looked and felt like lava as it erupted out of a person she no longer recognized. She and the floor were covered.       

He knocked softly. “Babe? What’s going on? Why did you slam the door?”

She didn’t answer.

He knocked a little harder. “You okay in there?”

No response.

He knocked again. “Come on babe. Don’t be like this.  Don’t ruin my night.” 

The knob twisted. Using every ounce of energy she could muster she stood and threw herself against the door. 

“Let me in!” He yelled.

“No.” She yelled back. She fought the door as her fingers fumbled for the lock and pressed the button. 

“Fine, be that way. You’ll have to come out sometime.” He called. 

She heard him retreat.  Finding a bath towel, she sopped up the mess before stepping into the shower because while her attorney mind told her to preserve the evidence, the scared child inside of her screamed. The burning water wasn’t enough to erase his touch. The cherry blossom soap wasn’t enough to release his scent despite how hard she scrubbed. It may have been his birthday, but it was now etched into her memory forever.