The Boy Next Door – another true story

He was the boy next door. Actually, he was the bad boy next door. Everyone knew it. All you had to do was look at him and you could see he was the neighborhood bad boy. He had dark, almost black hair and dark eyes that seemed to see right through her to the little scared girl who was intrigued by his badness.

Anytime he spoke to her, she felt her heart thudding in her chest. Each time he spoke to her she found herself utterly shocked that he would. Boys didn’t speak to her. They ignored her. Especially boys older than her. Boys her age would speak to her or her brothers would, but other boys older, no they ignored her. She was just a nuisance, her brother’s younger sister. They had no problems showing their disgust whenever she tried to tag along with her brothers. She can still hear them laughing today after she had the audacity to tell them she wanted to play football with them. She had been surprised and thrilled they had agreed until she suddenly found the ball in her hands and all the boys running after her with the intent to tackle her. She screamed as they all pounced on her and smothered her with their bodies. She couldn’t get away from them fast enough holding her head down in shame.

But the bad boy, always spoke kindly to her. Even when she could see his eyes, feel his eyes, seeing right into the heart of her. Seeing her attraction…. And her fear.

She liked spending time with his mother. His mother taught her how to massage her neck and shoulders. She had terrible headaches and the massages would help.

One day she went to their house to see if his mother was home. The bad boy answered the door. He told her she wasn’t home but asked her to come in anyway. He asked her if she wanted to see some of his magazines and she said, ‘okay.’ She didn’t know why he would show her his magazines but she was thrilled he wanted to spend some time with her so she followed him into his bedroom and watched as he pulled a few magazines out of a large stack he had in his closet.

They sat on his bed. He took one magazine and held it so she could see it. Opening it she saw a woman dressed in very sexy lingerie. He continued to turn the pages as she looked. They were all beautiful women in various degrees of being undressed. She looked at the bad boy, her heart pounding and wondered why he was showing her these pictures. He told her how beautiful the women were and wondered if she thought so too. She agreed with him and then he turned the page. This one was filled with writing and he pointed to one and asked her to read it. She read it to herself and felt her whole body heat and her face turn red as she read the intimate detailed description of two people making love.

Suddenly his baby brother who was just a few months old started crying and she bolted out of his bedroom to go comfort the baby. She felt him standing by her while she held his brother, soothing him and trying to get him to stop while his bad boy brother stood and just watched… her…

His mother came home and took the baby calming him down. She made her excuses and said she needed to go home. His mother thanked her for trying to help with the baby and told her to come back any time.

A few days later while hiking in the woods behind the bad boy’s house, he suddenly appeared. He thought she was lost and told her so which she denied. He asked her which way was her house and without hesitation she pointed in the right direction so he shrugged his shoulders and left her alone.

Sometime later, she had been hiking again in the woods, as she left the woods in an area a distance from the back of her house, she saw the bad boy approaching her. She stopped and waited as he approached. They were alone in a depression almost bowl shaped. The open field on three sides was raised while behind her was the forest where the land flattened out. It was oddly private for being so open.

They looked at each other a while, standing about six feet apart, his eyes seeming to see right into the heart of her. She was certain he could hear her heart beating in her chest even six feet away. She had no idea if she was breathing or holding her breath. She was so focused on him, all she saw was him, everything in her peripheral vision didn’t exist.

She heard him say something but it wasn’t until his hands started to move towards his zipper that the words penetrated the muddy wasteland of her brain. He had said he had something he wanted to show her.

She couldn’t form a single thought. It was strange. When she tried to put together what it was his hands were doing, she couldn’t make a connection. She was sure she was asking herself why he was unzipping his pants but she couldn’t connect with what that meant. She felt like she was frozen. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Any thoughts she had, were not her thoughts. Any action her mind told her to take didn’t make a connection to the rest of her body. She stood frozen in place as she watched his hands. His hands that were now opening his pants, reaching in, and pulling out something so large and dark her mind couldn’t comprehend its significance. Her mind knew what he was showing her. What she didn’t understand was why.

She had often gone into the forest to calm herself, to find peace within herself because her world was so full of confusion of not understanding why things were the way they were in her family, in her life. Most times she didn’t understand what she was feeling. The only thing she knew for certain was when her heart beat as it was now in her chest that it meant she was afraid. The harder it beat the more afraid she was.

She had never felt her heart beat so hard in her chest. She finally heard her instincts screaming at her to run. To run as fast as she could away from this bad boy who made her feel. Who made her feel so much more than she had ever felt in her entire life. She bolted. She felt her legs moving, pounding the ground. She didn’t feel the rocks beneath her feet, or the uneven ground she knew she ran across. She didn’t feel the air pouring in and out of her lungs. She only felt the feeling flooding her body not understanding anything of what they were trying to tell her, other than to run. She ran all the way home, closing herself in her room, not speaking to anyone of what happened. Again she knew if she told anyone, they would blame her. She was after all a bad girl.


About Kate Spyder

I'm a creative individual finding her way in her writing. I enjoy expressing my deep thoughts through poetry and stories. I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoy writing them.
This entry was posted in Journal, Mature and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to The Boy Next Door – another true story

  1. themysticdom says:

    wow…wow .wow.. !!!!

  2. Pingback: The Beginning – Part 3 | Breathe In My Touch

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