Page 21 of Hate That Blooms
I stand there across from him in the kitchen, saying nothing. Because what does someone say to that? Nothing better than hearing that you're the spitting image of your whore of a mother. I grab my plate and the bottle of water from the counter and take off for my room, slamming the door behind me. I push the lock in and sit on my bed.
After eating the microwave frozen dinner and finishing my water, I lean back and pull Gabriela’s underwear from my pocket. The silky feel of the satin against my skin has me rock hard in my jeans instantly. “Fuck it,” I mutter, standing up to undo my pants. I need this release. This is the closest I’ll probably get to coming with her. So I’ll fucking take it.
My jeans and boxer briefs pool at my ankles as I sit on the edge of the bed, stroking my cock. I take her panties and wrap them around my dick, and I have to keep from coming at the feel of them.
“Oh fuck. This shouldn’t feel so fucking good.” I whisper to myself, taking in a breath. I continue to stroke my cock while wrapping Gabriela’s panties around it. The forbidden nature of this only increases my arousal, and I find myself unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure coursing through me.
Each stroke brings me closer to the edge, the silky fabric adding a new level of sensation that drives me wild. My breathing becomes labored, and I can feel the tension building within me, urging me towards release.
The thought of her, her scent, what her touch would be like—it all fuels the burning desire within me. I find myself lost in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, unable to fully comprehend the consequences of my actions.
As my hand quickens its pace, the need for release becomes undeniable. The pleasure builds to an almost unbearable level, and with one final stroke, I come. Waves of pleasure crash over me as cum coats the panties and my hand, and I can’t help but imagine it’s Gabriela who’s brought me to this point. That it’s her pussy that’s being filled by me.
But as the euphoria fades, reality sets in. I’m left feeling empty, consumed by guilt and regret. Anger quickly replaces the guilt, and I remove the panties from my now semi-hard cock. It should be her, here, naked in my bed. I clean myself up, and I toss the panties in the hamper, and I tell myself that it was a moment of weakness.
That’s all it is, right?
Chapter12
Gabriela
The bell rings, and I can hear chattering girls filing into the locker room to get ready for the gym class. Joaquín stole my clothes and my towel. God, he fucking irritates me. The cute son of a bitch makes me so fucking mad. Why does he have to pick on me? Doesn’t he see that I’m hurting too? I hear footsteps of people making their way toward the gym doors, and I shout. “Hey!” And I pop my head out. Two girls stop, and they stare at me. “What’s up?” The shorter girl asks.
“Is there any way you can find me a towel and maybe something to wear? Some boys came in and stole my things, and I need to get home.” I ask, pleading with my eyes. “Please.”
“Ye-yeah, sure. Cassie, can you let the teacher know so I’m not marked late?” She turns to her friend, and she nods.
The girl walks off back toward the lockers and the towel racks, then a few seconds later jogs over with a towel, some sweatpants, and a shirt. “Did they steal your bra and underwear?” She asks, holding the clothes out to me.
I nod, fighting back the sniffle.
“Guys suck. It sounds like they might like you.” She rolls her eyes. “You know what moms always say. ‘If they tease you, it means they like you.’ Or some dumb shit like that.”
“Right.” I take the offered clothes gratefully, quickly changing into them behind a nearby bench. As I slip on the sweatpants and shirt, I can’t help but feel a mix of embarrassment and relief. The girl offers a sympathetic smile before we both go our separate ways. I run over to my gym locker and grab my backpack, fishing out my phone and car keys. I sent Cora and Nat a text in our group chat.
They fucking stole my clothes while I was showering! I’m going home for the rest of the day.
Cora: What assholes! Want me to punch him in the face for you?
Film it for me if you do.
I head to the office and make up an excuse to go home early. The secretary takes pity on me, knowing the situation at home, and lets me go. I cry and scream in the car during the drive home, “Well, God, if this is your way of shaping me into a better person, you can seriously go fuck yourself.”
I arrive home, still fuming with anger and frustration. It’s been a tough day already, and the incident at the gym class just added fuel to the fire. I storm into my room and flop onto my bed, burying my face in my pillow. Thoughts of Joaquín’s obnoxious behavior consume my mind.
“Why does he have to pick on me?” I mutter to myself, the words muffled by the cushion. Tears well up in my eyes as I think about how hurtful his actions are. I’m hurting too, and it feels like nobody understands. Either that, or nobody cares. I pull out my phone and text the one person I know I shouldn’t.
I guess you really aren’t my king. It’s only getting worse. Everything is so fucked up, and I don’t know how I am supposed to handle it all. If it wasn’t for my sister, I would just throw myself off the pier and let the waves take me away.
The thought of just succumbing to the ocean feels so freeing. I know that dying isn’t the answer, and it’s something I would never do, but God, the thought of finally being free and at peace is enticing.
I toss the phone onto the bed, get up, and search my closet and drawers for something to wear. After a few minutes of wallowing in self-pity, I hear the ping of a notification and retrieve my phone.
Your sister needs you to be there for her.
I almost tell him about mom, but I decide that it’s not worth unloading my pain and trauma on them. Leaving my phone on the bed, I decide to take a shower and change into fresh clothes, leaving the negativity of the day behind me. The warm water washes away the remnants of my tears and I silently vow to be present and keep my head held high. For Mireya.
Stepping out of the shower, I dress in comfortable clothes and emerge from my room with a newfound confidence. The incident at the gym may have shaken me momentarily, but I refuse to let it dampen my spirit. I tackle some household chores while Mireya is still at school, get dinner prepped, and put it in the pressure cooker so that when I go to pick her up, it will practically be ready.
