I don't remember how I got here, but I'm sitting in my room. The layout is the same from middle school. The bed was on the side wall. And two bookshelves on the sides. The bright pink and orange and it was before I spilled ink on the floor.

He is sitting next to me. Saying something. I think about how he's going to go to work soon. He worked nights. I don't remember what he did though? In a kahki shirt.

His fingers are in my hair, not pulling it, but holding my neck. I'm staring down at the floor.
The carpet mostly. And the leg of my desk poking into it. It was painted green and blue and pink and stuff. And the paint was so thick it made the surface sticky and grainy.
My shirt is light colored. And his hand is in my pants.

I don't know how they got unbuttoned or how long I've been sitting here, but my feet burn in the certain way and he's not stopping.
His other hand moves though, like it's supporting my back cause I keep bending forward. It doesn't hurt, but it feels weird. I can't blink.
Or breathe.
I'm holding the edge of the desk, and my toes spread apart over the desk leg and I'm shaking. I think I just turned off now.
Just breathing. Mostly. I'm all wet. But it's stuck between my legs. He lays me down. I don't remember anything after that.