"I know," I said.We sat up for a second."Are you going to be late for class?" Samantha said."You know what, for once fuck class," I said. "I can think...of something else, someone else to do."And she laughed at that. Even though she probably shouldn't have.We spent the rest of the day together and even the night. A real date, a picnic out by Barton's Creek, right when we could see the sunset. Not her idea, not my idea, but something we spoke softly to each other during the middle of the day after. Is this what I really need?‘Look up at me faggot.’When I do he slaps my face. Wincing I look down, my face stinging.‘Look at me faggot.’Not wanting to do it but know I must. I look up and when I do he slaps me again. Feel like I’m about to cry again.‘Is this something you need faggot?’Looking down, ‘Yes Sir.’ Tears running down my cheeks as I try to keep from sobbing.‘Beg bitch.’I can’t believe he is making me beg him to treat me like shit, use me, abuse me, humiliate me. How can I do that? Not. More

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