The First Time

by K. Schoenborn

Jack was my first. He will always be my first. The memory of him is still so vivid in my mind; bright, hazel eyes, looking, lingering into mine, with thick eyelashes too beautiful for a boys face. His cheekbones contradicting the child-like freckles on his stout nose, the way his short auburn hair would spike up with little effort, how his pale lips would quiver, those strong, masculine shoulders; oh how they could make a girl melt. I will never forget my Jack, my first.

We met at a party; it wasnt a typical gaze across the room where our eyes met and lingered, like how you hear about in songs and poetry, oh no, nothing of that sort. He left around two in the morning from a rager at some guys house. That was the first time I saw him, and I knew right off the bat he was the one; the way he walked down the street, drunk, alone, and vulnerable, tripping over his own two feet, looking like he didnt really know which way was right. Most people had already begun to leave, and the energy coming from the house was slowly dying out, the sound of crickets no longer muffled by the noise. I was in my car down the road with the engine off and windows down, letting the midwestern summer air creep in and accompany me. I watched only from afar, for how long I dont know; I had snuck out a few hours ago, not going anywhere in particular, just driving around the empty streets, freeing my mind. I looked on at the little house, wanting, craving, to go inside, but not having the audacity to do so. I watched as people went in the house sober and came out drunk for hours, a slight bass from the music could be heard from the outside, a few laughs escaped opened windows. I dont know if anyone noticed me, but it was best they didnt, it was for their own good.

I watched as Jack did his best to walk down the street in a straight line, tripping over his own two feet, his sneakers half laced and left foot without a sock. His departure was almost sad to watch, he seemed like he would be a boy with a strut of confidence wherever he would go. But not tonight, it didnt look like he even had the poise to stand up straight without swaying off balance. This was my moment, to speak up, to talk to him, to take him his guard was down, and I was alert. It was the perfect moment to venture out of my comfortable little bubble, to feel that rush of adrenaline that I know I had never felt before, but thirsted for. All the wrongs in my mind could be so right and real, and it was all just a few yards away from me, basically screaming for me to act. I turned the engine on, and drove.

Need a ride? I hollered shakily as I pulled up next to him.

He stopped walking, almost falling back as he did so, and looked down at me, a confused look painted on his face, yeah, that would help, like a lot, he mumbled, belching halfway through his sentence.

He looked much worse up close, with bloodshot, puffy eyes and red cheeks. There was a wicked stench of cheap alcohol and cigarettes mixed with body odor coming off his clothes that made my nose crinkle; I almost stopped myself, letting myself think that he couldnt be my first, but I couldnt be picky, not tonight, not now, he was perfect for me.

I felt a slight spark shoot through me when he opened the squeaky car door, my heart skipped as he staggered in and plopped himself onto the passenger seat, the smell growing stronger. When he didnt notice the windows rolling up and locked the door beside him, I had to hide the smirk on my face.

Im Jack by the way, Jack, he said as he slouched back in the seat, his knees stretched out and head arched back.

I didnt reply, I just stared at him next to me, awestruck. It worked. He was here, I couldnt mess up something so wonderful. I took a deep breath, adjusted in my seat, and drove on.

Yeah...okay, he mumbled, getting no response from me, he settled in, relaxed, exposed and defenseless. I clenched my jaw and tightened my grasp on the steering wheel, knuckles growing white. I was trying to hold back what was heating up inside of me; letting it blister in my throat with rage and desire. I pulled back onto the road and looked straight ahead, at what my headlights created in front of me, driving.

I live off Parker, house 21.

Okay, I replied, looking down the empty road. Not a another car was in sight in the black night that surrounded us. Im not sure now, but I think Parker was the other direction.

This was my moment, a chance to give my life meaning, to experience a new thrill. Jack didnt say anything when I drove into a quiet and empty parking lot, far enough from the party and anyone else half awake to notice, making us go unnoticed as I turned my headlights off. He just looked over at me with curiosity and confusion on his face when I parked the car and looked over at him, not saying anything, just staring as I unbuckled my seatbelt.

I climbed over the glovebox and crouched over him in the passenger seat. He allowed it as I gently held his firm arms, letting me move my hands up his body and grasping his shoulders, feeling them flex beneath his shirt, he just stared at me, curious. I stopped at his neck, holding it, feeling his strong pulse through my fingers. I didnt pay attention to the stench that began to fill my car that came off of him; all that mattered was that he was here, alone in my car, with me in control. He was mine. And he wasnt moving, wasnt speaking, just stared into my eyes almost in a trance like daze. I kissed him; forced his lips onto mine, and smiled when he relaxed and kissed me back. His breath tasted worse than it smelled, but I had him exactly where I wanted him, and once he has arms around my waist, it was going to happen.

He didnt notice it when I first began to tighten my grasp, he seemed like he was going to pass out at any moment from the alcohol anyway. It wasnt until I started to increase my grip on him, wrapping my thumbs and fingers all the way around his thick neck, pressing them in, that I felt him stiffen. It was then that he noticed, realizing what I was doing. He tried to thrust himself backwards in the seat, attempting to let out a scream in the process, and I felt it as his neck muscles contracted and tighten and I tightened my grip. Jack did the best he could do to get me off of him; grabbing at my arms with his large hands and pulled, pushed at them, doing anything he could to get me away, but accomplishing nothing. He was so cute when he squirmed like that. The more he tried to scream and yell, the redder his face grew, and then purple, and our ears were met with oblivion, it was even better than I had imagined. I felt what he was going through, my throat tightened the harder I squeezed his, the more time that passed by made it harder for me to breathe; my heart raced like a hummingbird's wings, eyes widened with agony, it felt so good.

If he was sober I knew he would be able to push me off, but he was frail and weak in this drunken state, and I took advantage of it in every way possible. I smirked as Jack struggled, my laugh shaking from excitement, he thrashed around in my passenger seat, trying, fighting against my tightening hold. The longer I seized him, the weaker the struggle became, and he just looked into my face, those hazy, beautiful eyes looking into mine begging, pleading for me to let go. I looked into them, wondering what he was seeing in our last few moments together; a seemingly frail and simple girl, with innocent blonde hair, and skin so soft and porcelain to the touch that the strength found underneath seemed astonishing. My t-shirt complimented stained jeans and worn sneakers that made me seem so dull and unexciting. I looked like a nobody, and before this night I was exactly that, but what Jack didnt know was that I was going to be a somebody now, thanks to him. He didnt see any remorse in my face, but blue eyes that sparkled more the weaker he got; the more tears that streamed down his paleing chin, the sadder and farther away his eyes looked, the more alive I felt, my lips curled up in satisfaction, creating dimples on my face that my poor Jack was too weak too see.

He was limp when his eyes rolled back. I released my grasp on his now heavy neck and leaned back against the dashboard, looking at him. His head had fallen into an uncomfortable looking position, but he didnt move, didn't budge, he just layed there, in a completely different state from the boy fighting for his life no more than a moment ago. I realized then how quiet it was in the car, the only sounds in the static air were the deep breaths coming from my flared nostrils and blood rushing through ringing ears, but only I could hear that. I looked out the windows, the black night hadnt changed, dim streetlights planted in the tall grass could still be scene in the distance. Everything was as still as ever and indifferent to what I had just done, peaceful even.

Frowning, I began to wonder and returned my focus back to him, curious, I needed to make sure. I didnt know how to check for a pulse, I grabbed his lower jaw in one hand, putting the other at the top of his head, and thrusted. When I heard the sharp, cringing snap I sighed and smiled, feeling that final satisfaction and relief I had longed for. He looked peaceful, asleep even, his eyes closed and mouth wide open, with no air traveling in, or out. But the closer I looked at him, recognizing how unnatural his head seemed to rest to the side his body; thin, violet marks were beginning to form around the flesh of his neck, and at first I was bewildered, but then I raised my hands, looking at them. My thin, long fingers, clammy palms, the chipped fingernail polish, faint blue veins that ran up my arms, I kept turning them over looking, again and again, almost in disbelief; these, these did that. The marks that would forever be with him, the signs of my doing that would always be, a final, frank mark, what I did, it will last. The marks I created are tattoos on his neck that will never fade away, never heal, only disappear with my Jack as well.

Its amazing, the power we dont realize that we have, and the overwhelming feeling we get when we unleash it. Most would be scared to do what I did, they would come up with excuses, avoid the thoughts, or take medication and get help. Yet our minds are not shaped to be compressed to certain simple morals and ideas, we are made to grow. My conscious stood by me tonight, mindful of what I was doing, and just watched, said nothing, expressed nothing; I think it might have, for once and for all, withered away. I felt no remorse, nor did I have the want or need to, I am exhilarated, alive, I have finally been reborn, it just feels so good.

I wiped my hands on my jeans and climbed back over into the drivers seat and turned the key into the ignition, starting up the noisy engine once again. I dont know why I felt the need to wipe off my palms, there was no blood, no disgusting substances, nothing to get rid of, it was just an impulse I suppose. Almost like saying my deed had been done, accomplished, that a hard nights work had finally been complete. After all, it was, wasnt it? As I drove away I began humming to myself, and I looked over at my Jack, his beautiful body lying next to me, he was such a perfect first, my first, and I could not be more proud to call him mine. He was my Romeo, I his Juliet; but I get to survive this story, the empty sky above us showed no signs of star crossed lovers, for Shakespeare did not write this beautiful ending, I did, me.

Jacks body flipped and flopped with the road as I wound through the neighborhoods, dark houses spreading out more and more as I went to a more rural part of town, to the hilly grasslands and buzzing creatures who called it home. As I drove I began to admire the black sky with all its deep, never ending beauty, no lights shown and the moon didnt show itself, but it didnt need to for the night to be loved and admired. I stretched my arm out the window, feeling the cool, summer air and the wind whip through my hair, the smell of dew on the grass and warm rubber on concrete, a faint howl in the distance met my ears, and in that moment I felt at peace. My high beams revealed nothing more that a few hundred feet of the road ahead of me, but that was all that was needed. And as I drove I had a thought, it made me smile, it made me grin; and then a chuckle rose out of my throat, awakening the silence around me once again, making my cheeks sore.

It was time to play a new game: what to do with the body?

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