A flash fiction story I wrote a couple months back. Enjoy.

**Warning: potential trigger for former victims of sexual assault.**

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She wasn’t sure when the game stopped, but somewhere between “let’s play seven minutes in Heaven,” and the lock’s click, agitated movements replaced carefree giggles. Exhalations of stale beer shrouded strawberry bubblegum, pigtails became reins, polka dots on a frilled skirt mapped territories for exploration.

Laughter leaked in, and she focused on it intently; she was with friends, not this bed of aged sneakers and worn boots, this Heaven for conquistadors of undeveloped breasts.

With each thrust, she remembered last year: braces, Kool-aid mustaches, and stained t-shirts. She imagined the boy inside her now, short and teeth like a rabbit, shoving cake in her nose, laughing. She could taste icing, sweet buttercream, and smell it on his hands. She’d had better birthdays, but this one could’ve been worse: at least he’d stay for the presents.

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Thanks for reading,

~ Victoria Elizabeth