I feel the need to mention that this is a rather old piece of work, as much of the fiction that I post on this. I say this because it is rather crude, and initially intended to be the opening to this serial story. I was uncomfortable enough with presenting this shock value chapter on its own to remove it from the opening, but it is still part of the whole, and I am presenting it unchanged from how it was first published (had I never published it on MiBReviews, I might feel more open to changing this sub-plot now). Should I return to this story, I may address some of the lazier elements, but for now, I am publishing this as is, with this disclaimer.
“I, uh,” she couldn’t tell him that she didn’t, that she’d never loved him. Not again. Not today.
Andrew had been one of the first people Becky met after she graduated from her small high school. Like Becky, Andrew had never traveled much into civilization in his teen years. There was a small settlement about a dozen kilometers from his home, which is where he had met everyone outside of his family in his life to that point. Upon reaching adulthood, Andrew began traveling to Light City, a small city but the largest he had ever seen, where he bartered for goods and earned money. Light City is where the 18 year old met Becky, and he instantly fell in love.
Becky, like Andrew, had never met so many people as those she encountered where she came to trade. Unlike her admirer, however, Becky had no interest in falling in love. Still, the boy had been good company, and it was comforting to have someone willing to treat her like a person, an individual. The two would escape the hustle of the city, and Becky truly found herself in love with the release he offered her. Try as she might, as long as they were together, she couldn’t love him.
Memories and unforgotten feelings coursed through her mind and heart as he kissed her. It had been two years to the day, almost to the hour, since they had spoken, and when she saw Andrew’s face, all that Becky could think about was her guilt. His personality, who he was… she had broken his heart, never loved him. He was the victim, that’s who he was. A poor country boy who loved the wrong girl at the wrong time.
It was guilt that petrified her, rooted her to the ground and prevented her from reacting, leaving, crying. It was guilt that forced her to return his greeting, to not push him away when he again professed his love for her, when he kissed her.
Blinded by feelings completely different from the ones that blinded her former boyfriend, Becky allowed herself to be led to the back wall of the restaurant where she had taken her lunch. She realized in dread horror that she had chosen to depressively reminisce the same restaurant the two of them had often dated in. It was a quiet place, reserved, the sort of place where few would notice a pair entering the establishment’s sole customer restroom in tandem.
As she realized where she was being led, Becky knew she had to put a stop to this. “Stop,” she said quietly. Andrew was progressing beyond kissing now, and it was obvious his thoughts had led him places Becky had never let him go before. “Andrew, stop!”
Her protestations led nowhere as the the young woman found herself pinned against the wall. As Andrew’s hand slid up her thigh, she cursed her decision to wear a skirt today. “No, no,” she said hysterically, and he leaned in to kiss her again.
Insomniatic 