1 Chapter 1: Recipe for chaos

My dreams seemed to pull me to you. Since I was a child, you were there, in my thoughts, protecting me, calming my fears. You were just a figment of my imagination until I saw you… and we made love for the first time… then you killed me.

A recipe for chaos

 12 years old.

 That was the first time I spoke to her. Madison McCarthy-Aldis.

 She was the richest girl in town, and I?

 Well, I was not. My parents had a tendency to forget I existed; so like any young kid would do, I did whatever I wanted. We had no money, but I would have enough to survive. Barely at times. Having her made my life bearable; even if it was toxic.

 Madison was a beauty already. Unlike the rest of the 12-year-old girls, she was blossoming. Today, she was walking towards me. My heart shuttering a little, the panic trying to overwhelm me. "Hey, Kavielle, so do you like—like girls?"

 "huh?" the only response I could muster.

 "You know, like, are you straight/bi/les?" She bubbled a little, touching my arm. That was the first time I felt wanted.

 "Um, bi." I settled on, realizing this wasn't something I had exactly thought about. Well, I had some feelings, but I didn't really know. This would get me her attention though—and that was everything to me.

 She smiled, wrapped her arm under mine, walking along with me. From that moment on, Madison and I would be inseparable.

 We never crossed past 'friends' even if there would always be a tension there. Anything we did was experimental, nothing real. At least, not back then. This would be a big part of how I grew as a sexual being.

 That day was no different. 

 We were always at Madison's house, so much so, I practically live there too. We were supposed to be working on our Econ final project, but we ended up online talking to men again. If we failed the class, we would both be ineligible for graduation, but we didn't care.

 She had recently ended her fling with a 27 year old drug dealer 'friend'. She gave me details I never wanted, but listened to eagerly. Madison was sexual at a young age. Having lost her virginity at just 13, she would chase the attention of men in place of attention from her parents. This would drag me into a lot of things. Not always bad, but never good.

 "Maddy, we need to finish. If we don't get at least a B on this project, we are going to fail Econ—Mr. Nelson is a total fascist."

 "Oh, Kavi, stop worrying! We're going out to meet Brick—mmm—" she moaned. "Maybe you'll finally lose that V card of yours—"

 "Shut it—I told you I'm not a virgin." Well, this was technically not a lie; my hymen was gone, but I hadn't had sex with anyone.

 She pursed her lips, tossing a belt my way. "Put this on too, we want to look totally hotttt—" she had this annoying obsession with Paris Hilton and she would want to dress like her; tonight she would try to force me to do the same. It was completely opposite of what I wanted to be. I mostly wore band shirts and pants. My hair was either perpetually up or unkept around my head. The muddy brown hair never looked good, no matter what I did. "Brick is expecting us to look 20, not 15, so suck it up!"

 She typed away on the screen, smiling, wiggling while she did. This was the part of her I had fallen in love with and because of that—I would lose all sense I had. As a teenager, I thought I was invulnerable; this superman complex all teenagers had.

  Please, reconsider. The voice urged, stopping me dead in my tracks.

 The goosebumps rose on my arm; this sinking feeling building inside. The voice was insistent, telling me to stay, but I wouldn't let it stop me. Something about this felt—required. 

 The last 17 years of my life I followed the guidance it offered. I listened to the gentle words—lived the tender moments of my dreams—listen to the voice that called to me. The medication threatened to take it away, but it was stronger. The power it had over me was stronger.

 I had to do this. This was my first step towards being loved.

 Or at least wanted.

 Who else would want someone like me? Quiet weirdo with a history of mental illness? Not a single person at my school, that was for sure. Random older men online sure did. They would call me and say vulgar things, masturbating on the phone—it made me feel good. Why?

 But something inside pushed me here—pushed me to do this and I had to listen.

 I couldn't say no.

 We piled into her newish cavalier, it smelled like Tommy Hilfiger and cigarettes. We would sneak and steal smokes from her mom; we were the coolest. Tonight we would sneak wine in a water bottle and drink a bit as we got dressed and here in the car. The drive was quick enough, even with the knots curdling around in my stomach, I drank more at her behest.

 I was excited, but terrified. This in touch with her sexuality girl I wanted to be and the real me were fist fighting over control. This guy wasn't bad looking, he had a little muscle definition and what I thought was the biggest penis ever. God was I wrong! He was just 10 years older than us, so something we thought was 'appropriate'.

 We had convinced ourselves we wanted it.

 Maybe we did? 

 The tiny voice that guided me, argued against it; it was my guiding light—but not when it came to Madison. Not this time, especially.

 She pulled out a brick phone, dialing his number. "Hey babe, we're here." She gloated. 

"Uh huh, okay. Yeah we'll go on in." she smirked. "Hurry back babe." She smashed the button, jumping out of the car. "Come on! He got us vodka and champagne!"

 We hurried to the room, my heart was thunderous now; this adrenaline rushing to my head. "Did he go somewhere?"

 She pulled the key from underneath a discarded cup. "Here we go!" she chimed, her excitement palpable.

 But me, I was so high on this moment, it over rid the fear and I was manic. This would only grow as we went inside and sat down on one of the two small beds in the room. The blankets resembled plastic, but were supposed to be silk like and you slid awkwardly around on it. We drank just a bit, neither of us mature enough to appreciate the flavor. We repeated this a few times and I had started to wonder if he was ever going to show up.

 By the time there was a gentle knock on the door, we were both too wasted to enact any kind of safety plan. As Madison swung the door open wide. "Hello girls," a meek, but familiar voice rang out.

 Looking up from my post on the bed corner, I saw something I had never imagined.

 "Mr. Nelson?" Madison croaked, stepping back a few paces as he pushed her in with his large frame.

 "So this is what your girls do instead of studying? Meeting strange men in hotel rooms?" He shut the door gently, locking both the dead bolt and chain.

 I was speechless, my silver tongue I had worked so hard to build suddenly missing. Madison stepped up, standing to moving to him. "Mr. Nelson, this is just a misunderstanding—"

 "Just call me Brick." He took off his khaki colored coat, dropping it on the tv stand. "I mean, we've seen all parts of each other, no need to keep it so formal." Neither of us responded, instead we watched him pour a plastic cup full of the cheap vodka. "You guys are pretty far ahead of me, I better catch up. " His tone light hearted, chuckling manically as he drank.

 Madison joined me on the bed, neither of us had the balls to speak up just yet. We watched him drink, uncomfortable looks shot between us all. Madison perked up, smiling. "So," she moved to him, laying her hand on his leg, sitting at his side. "Brick? I know this is a little awkward."

 "No." He growled, moving her hand. "You lured me here pretending to be grown women that wanted sex; not a couple of kids wanting free booze." He shook his head, chugging the last of his cup.

   Don't do it. It continued to urge. 

 I shook my head, trying to calm the little voice inside. My stomach turned, the words leaping from my lips. "Just because we are young doesn't mean we don't mean what we said." We locked gazes, his willpower waned with the more liquor he consumed.

 The tiny voice inside silenced; my need to feel wanted overtook common sense.

 Madison took advantage, standing up in front of him. "What makes you think we don't want sex too?" He grunted as Madison grabbed his crotch. She was never much for subtlety.

 My heart raced at the thought; her actions lead us right where we shouldn't go.

 Then, I knew, we were in danger.