How I Lost My Virginity Part 5 and 6

Part 5 — The message
Fernando was in his bed, with the door closed, his headphones on, when the phone vibrated. He saw the name on the screen—Alfredo—and his heart sank to his feet. He wanted to delete it. He wanted to smash the phone. He wanted never to have existed.

But he opened the message.

It was the video. The frozen image gave him away: himself, on his knees, his school uniform half-undressed, his face stained, his eyes red. He didn’t need to press play to feel his stomach turn. He deleted it from the phone with a trembling finger, as if that could erase it from the world.

Below, the text.

“Tomorrow I’ll be waiting for you after school at my house. If you don’t want your classmates to find out what you do with me, you’re going to follow the following instructions:

You’re going to tell your parents that tomorrow you’re staying overnight at a friend’s house. You’re going to give them my cell number and tell them I’m your friend’s dad, that they can call me if they have any questions. Tomorrow you’re going to come freshly showered, wearing white briefs and white socks. You’re going to bring your best attitude, because tomorrow you’re going to lose your virginity.”

Fernando read the message three times. Four. Every word fell on him like a slab. He stayed staring at the screen until his vision blurred and he had to blink to focus again.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to tell his mother. He wanted to tell someone that he was being threatened, that he hadn’t wanted any of it, that he was a victim. But then he thought about school. He thought about his classmates. He thought about how they would look at him, about the jokes, the nicknames, the shame he would never be able to escape.

He couldn’t be discovered. He preferred anything to that.

That night he didn’t eat dinner. He said he wasn’t hungry and locked himself in his room. He stayed awake late staring at the ceiling, feeling the taste that wouldn’t leave his mouth, Alfredo’s hand still on his skin like a mark. And at some point in the early morning, he made the decision: he would go. Because there was no other way out. Because his reputation was worth more than his body.

The next morning he got up early. He showered as he had been ordered, slowly, scrubbing his skin until it was red, as if he could wash away what awaited him. He put on the white briefs and white socks. And he stood for a moment looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, wearing his uniform, searching his own face for the boy he had been before all this.

He didn’t find him.

Before leaving, he stood in front of his mother in the kitchen.

“Mom...” he said, his voice strange. “Today I’m going to stay overnight at a friend’s house. Is that okay?”

His mother looked up, smiling.

“What friend? From school?”

“Yes. His name is... well, his dad’s name is Alfredo. I’ll leave you his number,” ...