25. The worst nightmare

Later that night, I woke up alone.

Mild stings from various parts of my body reminded me of our passionate exertions. My neck—the love bites. Between my legs—my lost virginity. My lips—from endless kissing and lip biting.

Where’d Nelly gone off to?

I lazily swung out of bed, searching the apartment. No Nelly. But I could hear the rowdy jeers of boys outside, and knew his crew was under The Big Tree out in the yard smoking marijuana and talking about girls and guns as usual.

Yeah, I get that they were his boys and all that, but were they really more important than me right now?

Snatching up my cell phone, I sent him a text.

Baby, I'm awake.

I need more.

Please come back inside. Love you.

The bed sheets were stained with blood from my broken hymen, so I changed them and grabbed a quick shower, then slid back into bed, waiting.

Half-an-hour later, Nelly still wasn’t back, neither did he respond to my text. Then it was an hour. An hour and a half.

No Nelly.

But I could still hear the bois