Chapter 4: The Serbian

At this point in my life, social media was in full swing. This was the first year Facebook had become public, and everyone was jumping on that bandwagon. Brian was one of them. Brian was an old classmate of mine from high school (yes, I was still dipping my toes in those waters). He was handsome, tall, blonde, and had a very thick Serbian accent. He was just as foreign as he was obnoxious, but beautiful to look at nonetheless. Brian reached out to me on Facebook, and laid it on thick. He told me all the wonderful things, everything from how beautiful I was, to how he was too shy to talk to me in high school. I fell for every word, even though I knew for damn sure he was not shy. That should have been my first warning.

We eventually met up, and things were perfect. We spoke for hours before parting ways for the night. We spoke about family, the future, our past, our regrets, and our goals. He was a nice change from one-minute Mitch, and it was refreshing. Brian loved to talk, and I loved to listen, even though I could only understand about half the things he said. This went on for a couple weeks before I met up with him again. After more conversation, I learned that he was in the military. He had been discharged due to his temperament, and aggression. He had been in a fight, which ultimately led to his discharge. That should have been my second warning.

Eventually, I would end up at his place. He lived in a small apartment with his brother with minimal furniture. The place smelled like an old frat house after a party, the carpets were  stained with pit bull urine, and his bedroom was furnished with one lamp, and an air mattress. I don’t know what possessed me to want to stay that night, but I did. No matter how run down that place was, he was beautiful, and that’s all I cared about.

That night, Brian did make his advances. He, unlike Mitch, was in control, and knew everything he was doing. He knew exactly how to hold me, and took charge of his opportunity. Similarly to Mitch however, he was heavily endowed. Pain came with every thrust, but he did not stop, and I did not tell him to. After what had felt like an eternity,  he did eventually stop, when he noticed I had started to bleed.

Relief swept my body that it was finally over. He helped me clean up, and we sat there and made small talk for awhile before I decided to go home. Something about that encounter made me feel so dirty, and almost ashamed about what had happened. How could I have let someone do that to my body? His sexual aggression had left me feeling broken, and used. This was the last time I saw Brian.

A couple years later, I got a call from a public defender on his behalf. She had explained to me that he had been imprisoned on the charges of assaulting of a young female and making her bleed during intercourse after she had asked him to stop. She was asking me testify on his behalf, stating that it was his large member that had made the young girl bleed. I felt so disgusted he would use this as an excuse to free him of this assault. I declined the offer and asked to never be contacted again. This would be the last time his name or face would be brought to my attention again.

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