Anonymous Story: The way he looks at me

Dear friend,
I thought it would make you happy. You only ever talked about killing yourself, and the only way I could make you happy was when I gave something. It wasn’t rape, I gave in. You only suggested. You took me into the school bathrooms during lunch. I didn’t say a word. You knew what you were doing, you said it yourself that I didn’t want you. Never you. But I said nothing. I didn’t scream, I didn’t run, it wasn’t rape. The way you looked at me made me squirm. You would tell me you loved me. You would say you care. You said we were friends. I tried to make you happy but you just kept writing your due date. Despite everything, I didn’t want you dead. Nobody deserves that. Not even you. And so I just kept giving into you. Between classes hidden in bathroom stalls and in empty halls. As I tried to keep you from suicide you kept pushing me towards mine. Cuts started to appear on my thighs and its not like I could hide them from you. But you just watched me die. You would look me up and down and I’d feel like I was exposed. That look in your eye when you just kept taking from me. Nobody noticed how skinny and pale I got. Nobody noticed how quiet and tired I was. But you did. You always saw exactly the life you were fucking out of me. I kept you alive. I said nothing. But it was rape. I accomplished my goal and you got yours.
Sincerely, the husk