It was at school, after we had finished PE, and I thought everyone had left. It was quiet when I came out of the shower; there stood the school bully, who had been causing me trouble lately, making rude suggestions on what he wanted to do with my body. His face lit up like he just won the prize, and stepped forward, one hand reached out and grabbed my neck, squeezing it, the other pulled off my towel, and started to roam, my now ample chest, he groaned, and rubbed himself against me, making me almost vomit.
I was caught unaware, dressed as I was, or undressed as it were.
I was shocked and frozen in place for a brief second, and that was all it took for him to take the advantage.
Never had I been caught like this, so vulnerable, and never again, even if I don’t shower.
I can fight, and I am a damn good one, yet, being caught like this, I was not quick enough to react, and he was.
He squeezed my throat tight, pushing me against the wall, before I had a chance to react. I raised my knee and hit him between his legs, hard. He hit the floor, screaming like a baby, holding his groin, swearing he would get me back.
The noise caught the attention of the gym teacher, who came rushing in, saw me naked, my bully on the floor, swearing, and holding his nuts. She knew what had happened immediately and pulled out her phone, calling someone to come to the girls’ changing rooms.
Grabbing the towel, I covered myself, sliding down the wall in tears. The teacher was at my side, soothing me, trying to calm me down. Two other teachers arrived, took one look, and removed the sobbing bully.
The gym teacher helped me up and sat me in a chair.
She lifted my chin, inspecting the bruises that were now forming on my neck, and tisked.
“Let’s get some clothing on and take you to the nurse.” She didn’t ask if he had managed to do anything; I think she knew. I crippled him before he could.
That was the beginning of a whole new type of bullying.
Tank’s warm, solid body was familiar. I know I was sobbing like a child. The problem with triggers is that you don’t know when or where they will happen, and they take you by surprise. Things you thought you had gotten over were still festering below the surface, waiting to pull you down.
Tank sat me on the bed, tried to comfort me, and I could tell he had no clue what to do; he didn’t know what had happened, and, to his credit, he didn’t push me for answers. He kept me in his arms, giving me the support I needed.
When the embarrassing sobs finally stopped, I was beyond exhausted, and I removed my towel and climbed in, giving no thought to my actions, just hunting for sleep, to get away from this nightmare of a memory. I felt the warmth beside me and went searching for it before complete darkness took over, and sleep found me.
I woke early, the sun not yet in the sky, and got dressed. I was mortified over what had happened last night, and then to be in bed, without nightclothes, was insane. I was like a monkey that was clingy and wrapped around Tank; he had no way to get away from me. I remember searching out his warmth and comfort, even in my sleep haze. What does he think of me, a crying, sobbing baby, instead of the strong woman I was trying to portray?
Quickly, I dressed and rushed downstairs. No one was awake at this time, except those on night guard duty; we had two or three nom’s patrolling the place. One was in the kitchen and was surprised to see me.
“Morning.” He greeted me politely. I think his name was Ryan, but he would get a new name when he gets patched.
“Hi, coffee hot?” I asked softly, moving to grab a cup.
“Yep, just made it.” He left the kitchen with three cups in hand. I guess it was his turn to make the team coffee, not my business, so I didn’t ask who.
I grabbed a coffee and a yoghurt and headed for my workshop.
Entering, I turned on the lights and headed to the painting area.
Turned on some music and got to work on the petrol tanks. I was hoping to get the last of the color on today, and then start with clear lacquer tomorrow, at least three coats, but I will see how it looks. I could do four.
I was in my zone, managing to get a fair bit done, before a knock on the door.
“Hey, got you some toast and a fresh coffee, the guys said, you were up early. Problem?” Sticks asked, ever the club’s mother.
“Nothing to worry about. Had slept like a baby, and when I got up for the bathroom, I couldn’t go back to sleep. Best I got some serious work done here.” I nodded to the two tanks now completed and drying. I was now working on the side covers, guards, and other bits I thought could do with a lick of paint.
“Wow, that looks cool. Has Prez seen it yet?” she asked excitedly, moving closer to get a better look.
“Nope, he only saw the rough draft, hadn’t been in this workshop. If all goes well, and I get the time in here, I should have it done for the ride on Saturday. I have heaters on to keep the room warm, so it dries quicker and evenly.” Sticks left, waving her hand over her head, as she disappeared through the door.
“Keep up the good work.” She chuckled as she closed the door behind her.
Work I did, finishing everything I wanted to, and was now out of the paint shop, letting the work dry, looking at the wreckage they wanted me to have a go at repairing. I made a space and brought over empty crates and tubs to put the pieces I removed into. I marked the tubs and grabbed the pulley, bringing the wreckage to the bench. I was in the middle of pulling it apart when the workshop started to vibrate from the roar of many motorcycles.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.