What if the only man you loved, the only man you could spill out all your feelings to, the only man who deflowered you, the only man who knew every dark little secret you had hidden in your closet…what if he was the only man your parents forbade you to see, to talk to, to even look at?
Well that sticky situation was exactly the problem I happened to be having. My name, Aria Delores Montoya, I was seventeen years old and lived a double life. I lived in the messed up, sin city area called Las Vegas. An area where having sex, and getting drunk, and rape, and all the other horrible messed up things in the society are very much encouraged. If you're not doing one of these things, then there is obviously something wrong with your brain and your mind, or so I was told.
How this whole situation went down, is because I fell under the crack of the hardcore peer pressure that got pounded on me day after day. You see an important part of this story for you to know is that one time six months ago, I had snuck out to go to a party, and it wasn't just any party. It was the biggest party of the year, and the group of people who peer pressured me said if I wasn't there it meant I was a gay homosexual with a bad attitude….I was practically being forced to go by the annoying rumors that flowed because of that one group I didn't get along with.
Stupidly however, I had fallen out of the loving direction of my dad Steve and my some-what annoying step mom Janice. It wasn't a bad thing in the beginning; I mean I found the one guy who could make me happy out of nowhere, his name was Jose Gutierrez, he was the one person who stood up to the bullies who tried their very best to just rip apart and devourer any sense of happiness and contentment I had.
A few days after the party, I had given him my number and from there we had hit it off. We went out every night for three months straight and my parents weren't even aware of any of it. He being very attractive and very into alcohol and motorcycles wasn't a very good thing for me to be around, but none of that seemed to stop me. Day by day, I could feel his wicked yet hot ways rubbing off on me.
I had went from being that innocent, almost gay girl, getting good grades and wearing bright colored girly clothing, to being a rocker motorcyclist girlfriend. I owned a few secret pairs of red silky thongs, and leather pants that hugged me tighter than a bear; I also had a tattoo of at the bottom of my back with his name and a heart next to it. I tell you I was completely different when I was with my parents and their friends, and when I was with my boyfriend and all of his friends.
Their ideas of fun were really opposites; my parents liked reading, watching horse races, and having friendly associations with the ones they've known for a long time. While my boyfriend, his friends all drank and screamed, and bragged about how many chicks they have banged and raped in their life time. They called themselves the "Lovata Gang.", I guess the girl they first raped name was Lovata and so they ended up using her name as the gang name, but Lovata doesn't know about this because well, they killed her.
I felt like when I was with them, I had to let them do anything they wanted to me, I had to get drunk and let them do body shots down by my pelvic area and allow them to suck on any part of my body, mostly being my breasts. A few nights of that and then bam! I was deflowered, I was given so much alcohol that when Jose wanted to have sex with me, I couldn't even think straight to say no.
So we had sex, but it wasn't in private. It was in front of all the ones in the gang and then some. Not to mention the whole entire thing was filmed and then posted on a worldwide porn site.
Everyone saw it, and that's when my parents found out about my double life. Of course they acted immediately, my dad Steve went to the place where they always hung out and he beat them all, almost killing one of them. So my dad ended up in the prison until he was bailed out and the lawyer begged the judge to reconsider his sentence.
I was grounded for six months, so for a whole six months I never saw my boyfriend, I never talked to nobody, I barely saw the outside of my house. My six months grounded time, got done but only I had a curfew after, 9PM Sharp.
A few days after however, Jose saw me out and about…I have to admit I hoped he had forgotten about me. But, he didn't. After that he never left me alone, every other phone call and email and text message was from him saying how much he missed me, how much he wanted to be inside of me again, and how much he wanted himself in my mouth….I found what he said romantic somehow, so from then I could tell I defiantly wasn't the same girl I was way before I met him. I was a messed up maniac on the road to god knows where.
One night, he found out how to pull pass the alarm that was set all over my house because my parent's no longer trusted me to not have an alarm system, he found out how to get inside.
After an hour of long conversation and pleading and everything he tried to get me to sneak out with him once again, actually seemed to work. So there I removed my good girl clothes and put on the rebellious type clothes that were secretly hidden in a chest at the end of my long closet. I didn't even bother taking extra clothes with me or anything because I thought I would be back soon enough.
Turns out the location the Lovata Gang used to go to, was changed. It was now an hour away from Las Vegas in the middle of the desert. It was more of a bon fire place than anything. His friends hadn't changed very much they were still the annoying immature drunk fuck ups they used to be.
I was only there for a few hours, and then Jose once again found a way to seduce me and lead me back into the darker part of the desert, where nobody else was around this time. No more cameras.
It wasn't the same anymore….the sex was more harder, the way he talked to me during the sex was harsh and cruel, calling me little bitch and whore…he had become like the group of teens who had peer pressured me when I first came here. I didn't appreciate it, the way his tone was to me, so I begged him to stop; I tried my best to push him off me.
He didn't agree, he was half drunk, with the smell of jack and tequila over taking his once minty fresh breath, he said that he wanted me and promised it would all be over soon. He covered my mouth with his hand so hard it was like he was imprinting his hand right into my face. I tried screaming, I tried moving my legs to kick him off, and that was all useless.
I thought the worst was happening…but after he was done with me he pulled out a 12 inch pocket knife from inside his leather jacket….and stabbed me seven times in the chest and punched me three times in the face….