Sky's Not The Limit

Foreign Touch

        My name is Khria. I'm only fifteen, but I probably know a lot more about the world than your average teenager. I've never made above a C- since middle school, I've never had a boyfriend, and I've lived in a dysfunctional home since I was twelve. It might seem I don''t know that much. But I know that the world is a scary place. And that's why you always have to be prepared. Because what he did to me....I wasn't prepared for.

        It all started when I came home from school one day and found my mother and father fighting. I was used to it, so I easily brushed it off at first. I no longer found it concerning, it happened so often. My mother would complain about my father coming home late from work, or my father would be upset about the house not being clean, or one of them were just in a bad mood. It never got violent. They would just yell and scream empty threats at each other until they lost their voices. But as soon as they regained them they were back at it again.
        But then my father threw something at my mother. I was shocked. It might seem stupid, since they fight all the time. But my father has never laid a hand on me, my mother, or my brothers and sisters. The coffee mug hit her directly in the eye, and I stood rooted to the spot. My father stood there over her, fuming. My mother left later that night. I fell into a state of depression. She was always the one to calm me down, the one who I would talk to, the person I could trust.

        My mother left many of her belongings behind, including her ID. I looked older than I was, and so I went to a party at a club and bought a drink. And then I bought another one. And another drink followed after that. And another. The next thing I knew, I lay awake in a bed that wasn't mine. I didn't know where I was. A boy who looked my age walked into the room and stared down at me. I sat up in the bed. "Who are you?" I asked the boy. He looked me down as if trying to figure out the best way to beat me to a pulp in a fight. Then he spoke, "My name is Dylan. Answer me this: why would a girl like you be in a club so late at night?" I was dazed by the question. Then the memories came flooding in. My mother's ID. The drinks... How many? How many drinks had I had? Did I get drunk? I sat there staring at him for a while. Then I asked him, "You look awfully young too. If I was in a club, then how did you find me?"
"That would be none of your concern," he replied.
"Well, then, why are YOU questioning ME?"
"Merely curious.."
I was liking him less and less. "Where am I?" I asked. "In my home," he said.
"Yes, well, I figured that much out! Where are your parents? Can I speak to them?"
The boy stared at me a bit more then said, "I live alone."
"Can you tell me where the closest bus stop is?" I asked.   "Yes, there's one up the street actually," he replied.
"Well, uhm, nice meeting you, Dylan. Bye!"
       
        That's when I felt something I'd never felt before, so different, so exotic, so foreign. A pulse went through my body. My heart skipped a beat, and then pounded harder than ever. Dylan looked at me. He had cold, wide, intelligent, gray eyes. That boy. That boy had touched me.