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The bus ride back home is always a treat.Maybe it shouldn’t be—you’re not quite sure. School is hard, and going home to a dirty trailer with your foster father is even harder, yet… the bus ride between the two holds a kind of quiet calm. Even when the other kids are screaming and laughing, you can hover there in purgatory, suspended between two hells.You listen to music on old earbuds you rummaged from the trash; the iPod that’s scratched up and a couple years old. Rose gave it to you for Christmas. Have to hide it from Unkar or he’ll sell it for more beer money, but it’s yours; one of the few things that is. Everything else disappears or breaks.The music stays, though, and the headphones. Whatever you want.The bus rolls to a stop at your house. Last one on the run. You take your time putting away the iPod and headphones and hear someone whistle from the front seat. It isn’t the usual person. “Come on, kiddo, hurry up!”You didn’t notice at first glance, but it’s definitely a man. Nervous, you gather your things and skitter down the narrow row to the front, where a man is half-turned in his seat, smiling. He’s got pale skin and a long face with black hair back in a ponytail. Some of it covers his ears. His t-shirt has a band name… Joy Division.He raises his eyebrows. “You mind? I have a bowl at home with my name on it.” “Oh… s-sorry!” you stammer. “Sorry!” “No worries, babe. Have a good weekend. Do your homework and shit.” He laughs, opens the doors. “See you next week.”You nod, blushing furiously at his words, and hurry down the steps. At the bottom he calls out to you: ‘what’s your name, anyway?’Hesitant, you turn. “…Rey.”The bus driver clicks his tongue, dark eyes flickering down your worn jeans and t-shirt with a llama. It’s not cool, but it’s hard to tell what’s cool in eighth grade. “Ben,” he replies. He has tattoos up his forearms and when he licks his lips, you see a silver piercing on his tongue. “Have a good weekend, Reybee.”Oof. You nod and wave and run down the gravel driveway to your house. He seems nice.—————Monday rolls around again. Bus driver Ben picks you up at seven in the morning.He grins and winks, smacking gum as you walk up the steps. You try to smile back on your way down the aisle, avoiding the eyes of the other middle schoolers. When you sit at the back, you find Ben’s dark eyes watching you in the rear view mirror.Today he’s wearing a sweater and jeans, much better for early winter. He turns up the radio while everyone chatters away and you put on your headphones. Time for peace and quiet.As always, you’re the last one off the bus at school. Ben is turned in his seat when you walk up the aisle, thick arms draped in his lap, and he jerks his chin toward you as you pass. You pause. No one usually gives you much attention, and the colorful tattoos up his forearms are interesting.He chews. “I like your hoodie. Atreyu?”Plenty of people like Atreyu, but it’s cool having someone older notice. You beam and nod, peering down at the ratty hoodie. “Yeah, it was my dad’s,” you explain. “He liked them. I mean—I do, too. But I usually wore it because it smelled… like him.” You blush again, which is the worst. “Sorry.”Ben offers an easy, assuring smile. “No worries, babe. My dad’s dead, too.” He cocks his head. “Who do you live with?” “My foster dad. It’s okay.” “Ah. I lived with my mom.”You shrug. “Mine’s dead.”His smile widens; maybe he likes your weird attempt to find common ground. But the bell rings, echoing across the grounds, and you rush off the bus. Ben calls out ‘have a nice day, Reybee.’—————Ben is cool. You’re convinced after he brings you a new pair of headphones the next week, nice ones from Target. He waves you off when you insist on paying and says your friendship is enough.Friends. That’s cool. He’s almost thirty, he says. You’re fourteen.The bus rides are long but you’re lonely and desperate for them. The new headphones help.Ben drops you off home. He calls you back at the bottom of the stairs and you turn right around. He needs something. His dark eyes hold promise.He pops out an iPhone. “You have a cell? We can chat this weekend. Talk about the award shows. Maybe if you draw something cool you can send me a shot?”Heart pounding, you nod and offer your number. He toys with the silver nub in his tongue while he types it in his phone, then winks and nods. “Head on home, Reybee. You’ll get a text from me soon.” Ben points a long, thick finger. “Don’t tell. This is between us. You know how that shit is, right? Read the articles and crap?” “Uh… yeah.” Pressured, you give him his answer. “They’re all lying. They want it, honestly.” “Shit; right?! Whores and skanks. But I can tell you’re different and you know what to do.” He taps a Converse on the floor. Smiles. “Be careful, alright? Add me as Kylo. I just wanna be friends. Honest.”He does. He’s not a whore or a skank. You nod along and hunch when the bus pulls off, quick to change his name. Kylo. Wow. It’s a big secret.
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You’re sitting up in bed that night when Ben sends you a text. It’s exciting—you don’t talk to many people—and you eagerly open it up.
Kylo: hey there kiddo. How goes it?
Eek. Excited, you text back.
Me: good! I’m bored.
Kylo: wanna hang out? I’m bored too.
Absolutely. You send back another quick text and he says he’ll get you in fifteen minutes. It takes a couple minutes to throw on jeans and a sweater before you’re out the door without Unkar noticing.Ben picks you up at the end of the driveway in an old pickup truck. He smiles as you clamber in the cab, now wearing a gray hoodie and jeans, smoking a cigarette. Ick. Kind of gross, but kind of cool. He’s such an adult. Such a cool guy. “Hey, babe.” He pulls away from the curb, flicking his ashes out the window. “You look cute.” “Um… thanks.” “We can hang at my apartment. My roommate got lost for the night.” “Okay. Sounds cool.”He doesn’t say much during the short drive. You wring your hands, peering out the window as snow drifts past. What a quiet night. Hopefully it’s fun.You pull up to his apartment, the bottom of a duplex, and follow him inside. He dashes his cigarette outside and takes out a joint instead, but you shake your head when he offers. You don’t do drugs. They’re bad.Ben laughs, taking a drag. “Good girl.”The hallway is narrow and short and reeks of weed. You follow Ben into a living room where another man is playing video games in a haze of smoke, eyes wide and red. He swats away Ben’s hands when he tries slapping him. Must be the roommate. “Get lost, Poe!” Ben snaps. “No way. Nowhere to go.” He coughs and squints at the television. “She looks young. How old?”Ben smacks his friend upside the head but Poe just laughs. You hurry after him, nervous in the dark, cramped apartment. “Sorry,” Ben mutters. He pushes open a worn white door and motions for you to enter first. “Oh—it’s okay. Unkar is the same way.”This is clearly his bedroom, with a twin bed and blue sheets, unmade, and random clothes strewn all over the floor. Your heart pounds as Ben shuts the door and turns the lock. A real adult house. This is cool.He has framed pictures of random stuff like owls and dogs, and some books and other knickknacks around the bedroom. You wander to his dresser, admiring all the shells and Star Wars memorabilia. He’s a lot older than you, but it doesn’t feel like it.Ben throws a beer can in his small trash bin, posing like he’s making a shot from a free throw line. “So you’re in, what—eighth grade?” “Yeah. But—but I’m mature.” “Mhm. You are.” He smiles and turns on the small TV on an old entertainment stand. “We can watch a movie if you can keep it between us. I’ll be really upset if you don’t, Rey.” “Oh, yeah, I won’t tell.”Ben fiddles with a PlayStation and a loading screen pops up. He shuffles past you to his closet and tugs open the squealing door, reaching in for something you can’t see. Your heart pounds; mouth dry. What is this? Are you going to like… kiss and stuff?But it’s nothing big, just an old orange pill bottle with the label ripped off. Ben shakes a white pill out on his palm and offers it to you even though you didn’t say you had a headache. You hesitate, but take it. “Don’t be nervous, babe,” he soothes. “I’m not gonna hurt you. We’re friends, remember?” He tosses the bottle carelessly back into the closet and shuts the door. “Don’t you like the headphones I bought you?”You nod quickly. “Yes, I do. Thank you again.” “No problem. I can buy you more presents if you want.” “…Really?”Ben nods, scratching the side of his tattooed neck as he offers you an open can of soda. “Oh yeah. Clothes, jewelry, movies—whatever my girl wants, she gets. Drink up. You look like your head hurts.”The pill washes back with a sip of ginger ale. You’re more than happy to take it now, since he said you’re his ‘girl.’ It’s so cool. His girl.Ben sits on his creaky bed and motions for you to sit with him. The sheets are wrinkly and stiff and his pillows are all over the place, well-worn like he spends a lot of time here. He stretches out his legs and puts an arm around your shoulders as the movie starts playing in the darkness.You can tell it’s a horror movie. The soundtrack and lighting immediately sets the tone and you settle in closer to Ben’s ribs, letting him curl his hand over your shoulder. You’re not a baby. You can handle it.…Then something doesn’t feel right.It creeps up over a couple minutes, prickling across your brain like the hazy smoke around Poe, until you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. Ben idly rubs your shoulder and watches the movie as a gang of men group around the female protagonist. “B-Ben,” you mumble, “I don’t feel good.” “No?” He toys with his tongue piercing, not looking at you. “Tell me how you feel.” “Dizzy. Heavy.” “Hm. Is your skin itchy?”Yes. Now that you think about it. You nod, pushing on your sleeves, and realize it might be better to take your shirt off completely. That seems better.Ben nuzzles your temple. “Why don’t we get comfy? It’s a little hot in here.”The room spins, colors swirling together. Confused, you lean forward and peel off your shirt while he strips out of his. His chest is covered in more colorful tattoos that ripple across muscles, and he doesn’t look like any boy your age.He whistles, eyebrows raised, staring at your bare chest. “No bra at bedtime?” “…No.” For some reason, you’re not embarrassed. “I can jive with that. Definitely.”Electricity snaps between you. Ben licks his lips then he’s kissing you, tongue in your mouth, and you taste a hint of marijuana and steel. He cups your cheek and you clutch his wrist and hope you’re not a bad kisser. His lips are soft.The mattress shifts. Teeth tug your lower lip out gently as Ben breaks the kiss off with a soft groan. “Christ.” His lips are puffy red now, shiny with spit. He kisses you again, hungrier than before, and a big hand palms one of your breasts. His skin is sticky and calloused and he kneads like he’s appraising you, then circles a thumb around a nipple.It feels nice, but it’s getting harder to stay awake. You try kissing him back until it gets too hard, head lolling and eyes rolling. Ben moves on to kissing your neck, unbuttoning your jeans in the meantime, and you watch his big hand disappear under the front hem. It makes a big bulge between your legs.He strokes over your underwear the same way you do sometimes. Your toes curl and you whimper nervously, limbs all heavy lead. Feels good. “You do this at home?” Ben whispers in your ear. You nod as he finds the nub where it feels best. He rubs with two fingers. “Yeah? Dirty girl, huh?”Then his fingers slip inside your panties, stroking through wet folds and teasing your entrance. It’s a lot at once, especially when you’re so sleepy, but you want to be cool. You spread your legs and let him fuck his finger in and out with lewd wet sounds. “You like that, Rey? Letting a strange man do this to you?” Ben adds a second finger, huffing when you moan. “So fucking tight. Can’t wait to fuck this little pussy. Bet you’ll squeal.”Tension builds, muscles clenching in your lower belly, then you come with his hand down your pants, stretching out your jeans. Legs writhe on the bed and you catch a glimpse of the woman on the television face down on the floor.Ben unbuttons his own jeans in a rush. He sucks his fingers clean and catches you as you slump forward. You weren’t this tired fifteen minutes ago. “You’re okay,” he says. “You’ll be just like the girl in the movie, baby.” “I… I…” “Shh.” He pulls down your jeans to your ankles and works them free. “Go to sleep. It’s all gonna be over when you wake up. I’ll buy you something nice.”You see his gray boxers and the big bulge in them and whimper again. Ben lets you lean forward on his arm as he gently guides you on your stomach facing the TV, where you think you see a man having sex with the woman. He’s moving fast and she’s crying.Ben’s arms cage over you and he lies flat against your back. He breathes in your ear, warm and gentle, then you feel something prodding between your legs. You puff a nervous breath; dig your toes into the mattress, but he grasps your hip and shushes you.He braces his weight on his other arm, angling you up just enough—and there’s pressure. Eyes widening, you squirm under him, but he’s too heavy and you’re too weak to go anywhere. Ben’s tattooed knuckles turn white gripping the edge of the mattress as he penetrates slow and steady into your body.It hurts a bit. You screw your eyes shut as he groans, hot skin-to-skin sinking together. You’re being pulled apart maybe but there’s something satisfying about it; something in your hindbrain is pleased. Ben cups your jaw and kisses you as be slowly rocks deeper, stretching inch by tight inch. “How’s that feel?” he whispers. The bed rocks back and forth as he finds his rhythm. “You like that?” “It… it feels weird.” “Yeah?” Another kiss. He grunts, panting on the corner of your mouth. Hair tickles where his hips slot into yours at an increasingly faster pace. “Thought you’d be asleep by now, baby. Think you can lie nice and still and pretend you are?” “Okay,” you mumble. That’s easy enough.Ben fucks into you with loud groans and pants, body flat and taut against yours. The movie rolls and now you can see the woman is being raped by a man who moves fast and seems to be practically drooling over her. While the scene plays, Ben thrusts deeper.He covers your mouth. “Knew you wanted this. So cute in your little jeans—such a good girl.” His cock buries deeper and deeper until you moan. “There we go. You’re all mine, Rey.”The woman in the movie screams and it seems to ebb Ben on. He shudders and grabs your hips, still flat across your back, arching over you while he pumps. You mewl and squirm until he gasps, stilling then jerking his climax through you, cock throbbing and twitching. It’s a weird sensation.He huffs when he’s done. Ben kisses your shoulder, sighing as he turns to his side beside you. It’s hard to stay awake. Really hard.He smiles, curling a lock of hair behind your ear. “Go to sleep, babe. I’m all done with you.” “Will… will you make sure I get home?” “Oh yeah, you’ll get home. Just take a little rest.”Blackness swirls. The last thing you see is him smiling like he knows you’ll never tell a soul.