Pure Punishment(3)

So here I am, cooped up in my dorm room with a textbook almost the size of Texas. I slam my head on the desk, ready to give up on this impossible equation I’m working on when there’s a knock at my door. I look up. I’m hoping the person on the other side is just drunk and has the wrong room, but when the knocking continues I know that’s not the case. I groan as I push myself up from my cramped desk that’s situated at the end of my single bed. I should really look into finding a job and getting a bigger room somewhere more private. So on nights like this I’m not disturbed.

I look down at what I’m wearing. My old yoga pants have seen better days and my shirt is from my high school track team. I shrug my shoulders. It doesn’t really matter what I’m wearing. I don’t dress to impress. The person at the door is more than likely my blonde, busty roommate who can’t keep her legs closed.

As I pull the door open I’m met with a breathtakingly stunning man standing in front of me. Some might say he looks like a rock star. His long hair is dark and tied back. His black jeans are tight and fit him like a glove. His fitted shirt shows his defined body for my viewing pleasure. He is quite a sight, but something I’m not interested in and don’t intend to be interested in for a very long time. I have priorities and those do not include gorgeous rock star men with amazing bodies, who stare at you like they can see through your façade. The one you try so hard to keep in place. You know the strong façade, the one where you think ‘I got this,’ when really you’re crumbling inside and screaming to break free. Yep, whoever said life was like a box of chocolates needs those chocolates stuffed up their ass.

“Oh sorry, I was looking for Kayla,” dark rocker boy states. I have no idea who he’s referring to. My roommate’s name is Leanne. So I do the only thing my brain has the functioning power to do and I slam the door in his deadly, gorgeous face.

I sit back down at my desk and open up my textbook, the one the size of Texas, and push my glasses back up my nose. My hair is an absolute mess, with my long dark locks falling down onto my shoulders. I start on the next question and the knocking starts again. I choose to ignore it for a good portion of time until I can’t handle it anymore. I slam my book shut and stomp over to the door like a nutter on crack. As soon as I rip it open, I come face to face with Mr. Rock Star smiling at me.

“I’m very busy, what do you want?” I say folding my arms across my chest. He looks me up and down like he’s trying to work something out in his mind before he decides to answer me.

“What’s your name?” I want to laugh in his face. He just asked for another girl and now he’s here trying to ask for my name. What’s with that?

“That’s none of your business. Now, I have studying to do and you’re interrupting me, so please leave,” I say and start to shut the door in his face again, but he places his foot in the way of the door, preventing me from shutting it.

“You’re seriously studying on a Friday night?” he asks, sounding shocked.

“Yes! I seriously am. Now please leave.”

He looks at me again, his eyes serious, removes his foot and nods his head before walking away. I’m standing in the doorway watching his retreating form when Bianca steps out of her room directly across from me. For some strange reason, she’s made it her mission to torture me. This is for reasons I just don’t understand. It isn’t out of jealousy because my body is grim compared to hers. She’s what guys fantasize about. She looks to where the dark rocker guy is retreating and then looks back to me. I shiver knowing something awful is about to come from her mouth.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with a man like that, country. Go and crawl back into your box before I put you back in there,” she says sneering at me while she walks past me, sashaying her hips. I close the door and lock it. I do not need Bianca trouble tonight.

I give up studying and crawl into bed. I take my glasses off and see my hazel eyes in the reflection of the mirror hanging from my roommate’s bed. I cringe when I see myself and can’t help think what rocker boy must of thought. I wonder what it would be like to just stop caring for at least a night and have fun. Maybe get laid instead of reading about it in trashy romance novels that are far from real. I want the feel of a man suffocating me with his body, taking things from me that I don’t usually give. I want to hit that big O. I think I need that O before I go insane.

I turn over and set my alarm for the next morning, knowing I need to get up early and go for a run. I like to run; it helps clear my head of all my thoughts. Believe me, I think way too much for a girl my age. I should be doing the fun things in life like partying, dancing and dating. I lay in bed thinking of things that my mind shouldn’t dwell on, cases in class that we are currently working on. I wonder how someone can become so sick and twisted and want to take someone else’s life? I wonder how they sleep at night and not have nightmares of what they have done?