Date Rape With Christina Hansen: "Avalanche"

 

*Excerpts from "Victorias Secret"

Insides Writhing, blood seething, heart pounding. While on the outside i sat idly with my gaze transfixed just beyond the dim eerie light that leaked out from my MacBook. The snowflakes like powder delicately tumbling towards her heart where they laid: a disorderly line of white hope. 

The white board behind us read some destructive logic gibberish about: 

( p => q ) . ( r => s ) 

              ~q  v ~ s 
        __________ 
              ~p  v  ~ r 

Or something like: 

if it snow’s they’ll be happy 

If it’s sunny they’ll be sad 

Therefore it will either snow or be sunny or both… 

Like i said… there was a bunch of gibberish on the white board. 

Meanwhile, i watched a green slither of coiled sin streak across her chest consuming the flakes as lungs grasped desperately at wishes of relief. Hairs stood alert as i looked upon the two as they rehearsed their despondent routine. An unsettling draft howled around me, haunting my thoughts as the raging percussion in my chest continued. This wasn’t me. I was really a quiet “daring” kid, a young daredevil if you will. I burst out the study door panting drenched palms boiling, the stress evaporating the sweat I was loosing my cool and realizing i had dared not to breathe around the seductive substance. 

It’s wild: drugs are one hell of a drug. But i wasn’t due to discover that, yet. I was a “good boy” and I hadn’t been invited to wonderland yet. Crazy how things come to change. 

… 

It was a normal thursday night. I was in the bakery cooking with the wrist, baking some cupcakes for the job at the godly hour of 11:30. Jamming to Mariah Carey on the speakers, 70 batches in dancing like a buffoon when suddenly blaring from  the speaker siri has the audacity to attack my happiness talking bout some “message from (605) 475-6964: ‘w-y-a’” 

Like first off: “do i know you🤨?” 

Second “work.” Leave me the hoo-ha-hey alone! DO NOT DISTURB! it is after business hours. If it ain’t about a good time, don’t waste my time (this was before i discovered what the night night symbol meant… yes i know education is clearly a scam cuz a brother was DENSE). Anywho, i digress 😌, an immediate reply buzzed in my hand 

“Perfect i’m otw, need my pong partner tonight.” 

Now, should i know better to trust a random street sorceress who magestically pulled my number out a hat? Yes. Should i be questioning how they know my place of work like some Jolina Goldberg wanna be? Probably? Do i care? No. Why? Simple: I likes me money’s and anyone asking for my pong partnership… 😈 they’re about that money. So as a great Krab once said: “money, money money!” And i’ll drink to that! 

Nevertheless, even with money on my mind, iI set myself up for failure when I saw that  inky sin red M5 starring at me from outside the glass doors. It’s faux coat glistening like cubic zirconia in the moonlight. Because i sure as hell shoulda known better to get back in her car. Forget the trauma sis can’t even drive this is proven. But as the kids say you only die once and if i can die just a little bit richer i’ll die a happy bean. So I let the batch in the oven finish turned off the oven (yes i’m stupid not dumb thank you) locked the doors and hopped in the passenger side of my (ex) best girlies ride. 

I was met with that warm hug that felt like warm golden brown syrupy goodness on a summer morning stacked so high you can’t help but notice they’re caked up on a Sunday morning. Basically, for a second, i felt like i was back home in the suburbs. Then i woke my dumb ass up; this is a business transaction and most importantly we’re always pimpin, never simpin. I gave her two awkward pats on the back and pulled back. Seemingly unphased, her blinding smile gleamed as she opened the center console. She unveiled a colorful consort of shots perfectly packaged in tiny jello shot packages from whimsical woo-woo’s and serene snake bites to malicious mad-dogs and sly silver bullets, she even slipped in an orgasm. There was no doubt that i was looking at the entire periodic table of mixology, and here she goes “we’re going to the hub. Need you to drink all of that before we get there.” AUDACIOUS. 

Now let me just break this down, cause mama ain’t raise no bitch. But I worked in the vista and she says we’re going to the hub. So for everyone not from the city of dreams, we are at most 5 minutes away if every light’s red for a solid minute (they in fact did nothing of the sort). And i’m looking at 14-20 shots that she just expected me to throw back?! Picasso I like it; challenge accepted. I play better drunk anyways like exponentially  (Yes we get it I did it to myself shut up and read #respectfully 🙄). 

Anyways, as I was saying, I knocked ‘em out and was feeling ✨immaculate✨ as she pulled into a toll spot outside as the immense glass skyscraper towered above us… well to me it was kind of this immense jello blob dancing with the spring night breeze. Not gonna lie i was hurt. She grabbed my hand and rushed me through the front doors straight to the elevators. The doors slipped open as three trembling hands illuminated a strange set of 2’s and 1’s as the entirety of the top panel illuminated. Which was strange because we only made one stop. Regardless we walk in there’s brothel of woman laughing and mingling while nakedly wading in the hot tub. Strobe lights blaring an LED rainbow of colors as others let loose in the common area and a top the couches. They were doing this weird dance where they just kinda jumped and weaved flowing back and forth into each other making these weird blobs of interconnected 10 armed deities that you’d expect to see in an ancient Hindi text, but make it EDM. Which… i mean it made sense in my brain there had to be like 80 people in this 7x10 room seemed like this was the only way anyone could dance in these conditions. What i couldn’t figure out was why i was so teed. Usually i’d contribute it to  being around her snobbish friends but i’m usually very calm cool and collected when i’m tipsy like that. But i was anything but in fact i was as hot and bothered as satan’s ass crack and i was sweating so that you could press the individual beads out my luscious locks (look Vanessa how am i not gonna whip my hair back and forth in these conditions?) 

We take 3-6 more tequila shots — at this point numbers are just a concept in my mind — as this inseparable Barbie and Kent duo walks over still caressing and groping each other preparing to eat each others faces like starved wolves on the prowl. Gross. They say something about taking a second to warm up or whatever while the ideal couple of the year went to do the nasty. Honestly i respected that 🫡 get right king. Obviously I will not be disclosing my trademarked beer pong secrets so no visuals concerning that will be disclosed but just know for the small minute i was conscious i was a lock 😤 pong is life on periodt. 

But the rest of the night was just a strange blur of events. One second pongs are sloppily flying out of my hand, the next i’m awoken by a nursing slap as my head lay comfortably on a soft set of supple pillows as a seductive siren voice chants: “I need you to stay up champ!” Immediately after there was an invigorating burn leaking from my nose and slowly igniting the rest of my spirit… 

“Champ” such an annoying word childish, condescending, and just ever so slightly demeaning. Also who the fuck says champ. 

Movements became erratic. Suddenly the graceful flicks of the wrist turned to violent hurls. And granted i was hot before but now it felt like i was quite literally on fire, in every sense of the word. Internally i was burning with the passion of a thousand suns and all i wanted was a reason erupt. Red speckles like dancing embers began to clutter my vision as a infernal sunset consumed my vision. I hit the final cup for the last time as the table abruptly scatters left slamming into the kitchen island. As the GrEeK gOd kyle? Brad? Kent? Whatever his name was came storming over and then we fade to black. 

Next i remember i’m in the passenger seat while she’s on top of me… back seat hands pressed against the window leaving the slightest imprint… door wide open as an exasperating howl escaped her lips back arched to the roof… alone on the bakery floor confused. 

Surprisingly this was not the night I didn’t finish my bake in fact I finished cleaned the dishes and took that 5 mile walk to the stadium with plenty time to spare didn’t even see the openers start their shift. 

Which was pretty lucky cuz i woke up to some real pain. specifically: 

A venmo balance of $1,600 
Bruised, battered, and bloody hands still raving with adrenaline 
A text from Pretty Boi Kent requesting $500 to replace a table. This was accompanied by a video of a fight — Which was weird because, granted, there’s no doubt i was at fault for pounding him through the table like that… guilty… but i swear to you i could count a whopping total of 20 people in that room. 
A strange numbness in my shoulder and a weird numbness I can only describe as depression. 
And lastly, a “hope you got home safe” message from that random number 

But, there was no hangover so I’d say the W’s outweighed the losses champ🏆 .

What hit me was the months to come; the stark reality that I now, like many others, live day to day. Tirelessly performing this graceful dance of composure, moving through life with an artful facade, a masterpiece painted in serene strokes. To the world, the epitome of tranquility, a portrait of calmness hiding the tempest raging within.

Behind composed eyes lies a battlefield, where love, lust, and the haunting echoes of trauma engage in a tumultuous skirmish. Each smile, a carefully crafted mask concealing the scars of a heart torn between passion and pain. Navigating the delicate balance, tiptoeing on the tightrope strung between desire and the fear of rekindling old wounds.

Love, with its gentle whispers and intoxicating embrace, tugs at the edges of my calm exterior. Lust, a seductive shadow, seducing one's surrender to its fiery dance. Yet, beneath it all, the specter of trauma looms, casting its long shadow over the battleground of emotions.

In the silent chaos of the soul, we grapple with the boundaries that blur between love and lust, trying to rebuild what our mistress of trauma has shattered. A lesson I came to learn far too late. While, her exterior may be a masterpiece of serenity. Within, the canvas is stained with the vivid hues of a complex emotional landscape. Meanwhile, I failed to witness the quiet storm that raged beneath the surface, where the boundaries of love, lust, and trauma collided. In her seemingly tranquil world, a poignant tale unfolds—one of resilience, vulnerability, and the unspoken struggle for a semblance of peace amid emotional turbulence. And now she had pulled me into her unstable reality. 

The worst part: as I continue to walk the world in her glass shoes it has become impossible to separate the voices in my head from hers. And strangely, that's what makes the world evermore silent.