Read Online Neon Angel: A Memoir of a Runaway by Cherie Currie - Free Book Online
Authors: Cherie Currie
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as he came closer. Closer. I kept saying it as he grabbed me again, this time using both of his hands to clamp my shoulders tight. He put his face real close to mine, and I could smell his stinking breath as he said, “You’ll like it, I promise.” I tried to struggle, but he was bigger than me and stronger than me and he started pushing me toward the bed.
Please . . .
Please . . .
I kept saying this as he shoved me back onto the bed, sweeping my stuffed animals aside, and placed a sweaty palm over my mouth so I couldn’t yell. Stupid bastard! Couldn’t he see that I was so scared that I couldn’t yell if I tried?
He put his face close to mine. Too close for anyone to get. I could smell his breath. Cigarettes and stale booze, rot and decay. He was still smiling that idiotic smile.
“You’re gonna like it. You’re gonna thank me for this, I swear . . .” I closed my eyes. I could feel his hot breath against my face. I struggled furiously, but he pressed his hand against my mouth so hard I couldn’t breathe. “I have a thing for virgins,” he was saying from some faraway place. “Come on, Cherie . . . It won’t hurt. You’ll like it . . . I promise . . .”
I could feel my nightshirt being pulled up, and his free hand pulling my panties down roughly. He had his whole body weight pressed against me now, and as I struggled it became harder and harder to move. “Get . . . off . . . me . . . Derek!” I screamed. “Get . . . the HELL . . . OFF ME! GET OFF ME! GET OFF!”
I could feel it pressing against me. His thing. I could feel him rummaging around down there, unzipping himself, and he was breathing into my ear. “Stop fucking struggling, you’re gonna like it . . . you’re gonna thank me, now stop . . . fucking . . . struggling!”
Then he brought a hand up to his mouth and spit against his palm. He forced the hand down between my legs, smearing the slime on me. I could feel his thing pressing hard against me. Oh God. Oh God, this just can’t be happening.
When he pushed into me, I screamed. I had never felt pain like that. It was the most horrible piercing pain, and it emanated from deep inside of me. Like I was being torn open. He was thrusting into me, grunting into my ear each time he did. I literally went crazy . . . Finding strength I never knew I had, I started beating against him with my fists, and letting loose a scream from the very depths of my soul.
I was operating on pure instinct. All I could think to do was to hurt him so bad that he would get off of me. I started ripping at his hair, tearing it out of his head in clumps, scratching at his eyes, punching him. He tried to grab my wrists to make me stop, but there was no chance! I screamed, and beat against him, and tried to tear his flesh right open. In a frenzy, I managed to hurt him enough that he jerked back for a moment, and that fucking grin finally left his lips. As he pivoted back, his thing slipped out of me, and this gave me the leverage I needed. I brought my knees up to the fetal position and managed to shove them against his chest, pushing him back. Suddenly Derek, the aggressor, the bully, and the monster, was yelping like a kicked dog. I could see the bright red scratches across his face, the blood spotting where I opened up his skin. And the look on his face! Total and utter incomprehension. He staggered away, wrenching the sliding doors open and running for his life into the darkness, his pants still hanging half off him.
“GET THE FUCK OUT! I’LL KILL YOU, MOTHERFUCKER! GET OUT OF HERE! GET THE FUCK OUT!”
I was ready to kill. I had never, ever felt anger like that. I was shaking with fury and I could feel the anger and the pain and the adrenaline coursing through me. But Derek was gone. I had beaten him off.
I staggered over to the door, sobbing hysterically, and pulled it closed, snapping the lock back into place.
Snip.
Snip-snip.
I watched my
Please . . .
Please . . .
I kept saying this as he shoved me back onto the bed, sweeping my stuffed animals aside, and placed a sweaty palm over my mouth so I couldn’t yell. Stupid bastard! Couldn’t he see that I was so scared that I couldn’t yell if I tried?
He put his face close to mine. Too close for anyone to get. I could smell his breath. Cigarettes and stale booze, rot and decay. He was still smiling that idiotic smile.
“You’re gonna like it. You’re gonna thank me for this, I swear . . .” I closed my eyes. I could feel his hot breath against my face. I struggled furiously, but he pressed his hand against my mouth so hard I couldn’t breathe. “I have a thing for virgins,” he was saying from some faraway place. “Come on, Cherie . . . It won’t hurt. You’ll like it . . . I promise . . .”
I could feel my nightshirt being pulled up, and his free hand pulling my panties down roughly. He had his whole body weight pressed against me now, and as I struggled it became harder and harder to move. “Get . . . off . . . me . . . Derek!” I screamed. “Get . . . the HELL . . . OFF ME! GET OFF ME! GET OFF!”
I could feel it pressing against me. His thing. I could feel him rummaging around down there, unzipping himself, and he was breathing into my ear. “Stop fucking struggling, you’re gonna like it . . . you’re gonna thank me, now stop . . . fucking . . . struggling!”
Then he brought a hand up to his mouth and spit against his palm. He forced the hand down between my legs, smearing the slime on me. I could feel his thing pressing hard against me. Oh God. Oh God, this just can’t be happening.
When he pushed into me, I screamed. I had never felt pain like that. It was the most horrible piercing pain, and it emanated from deep inside of me. Like I was being torn open. He was thrusting into me, grunting into my ear each time he did. I literally went crazy . . . Finding strength I never knew I had, I started beating against him with my fists, and letting loose a scream from the very depths of my soul.
I was operating on pure instinct. All I could think to do was to hurt him so bad that he would get off of me. I started ripping at his hair, tearing it out of his head in clumps, scratching at his eyes, punching him. He tried to grab my wrists to make me stop, but there was no chance! I screamed, and beat against him, and tried to tear his flesh right open. In a frenzy, I managed to hurt him enough that he jerked back for a moment, and that fucking grin finally left his lips. As he pivoted back, his thing slipped out of me, and this gave me the leverage I needed. I brought my knees up to the fetal position and managed to shove them against his chest, pushing him back. Suddenly Derek, the aggressor, the bully, and the monster, was yelping like a kicked dog. I could see the bright red scratches across his face, the blood spotting where I opened up his skin. And the look on his face! Total and utter incomprehension. He staggered away, wrenching the sliding doors open and running for his life into the darkness, his pants still hanging half off him.
“GET THE FUCK OUT! I’LL KILL YOU, MOTHERFUCKER! GET OUT OF HERE! GET THE FUCK OUT!”
I was ready to kill. I had never, ever felt anger like that. I was shaking with fury and I could feel the anger and the pain and the adrenaline coursing through me. But Derek was gone. I had beaten him off.
I staggered over to the door, sobbing hysterically, and pulled it closed, snapping the lock back into place.
Snip.
Snip-snip.
I watched my
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