"Didn't your Mommy teach you it's wrong to steal?"
Yes. She did. Right before she got into my father's car, the car that was supposed to take them to their anniversary dinner. The car that took them to their death instead.
I was five. Jack was six. In a single night, we were left with nothing.
But I still have the principles my parents taught me.
"I'm sorry," I repeat. "From the bottom of my heart. I'll do anything to make this right."
Clive steps closer. He takes the wallet from my trembling hand, considers it.
Then he tosses it to the floor. "Anything, you say?"
And he steps closer still.
“You know,” he says, voice oily, “we can make this whole thing go away. I won’t tell Donny. Or anyone. But you have to make it worth my while.”
My stomach lurches. My skin crawls.
“I—I’m sorry. Please, just take it.”
He reaches for me, fast and rough. I try to twist away, but his grip is like iron.
“Come on, sweetheart. You wanted something from me. Now I want something from you.”
“No,” I breathe, panic rising like a tide. “Don’t. Please…”
He grabs my arms, pins me to the wall. I try to scream, but his hand comes down, covering my mouth. Suddenly I can't breathe. The pressure of his palm is crushing, suffocating, and I gag on my own fear. My eyes sting with panic. My mind goes blank, save for one desperate, horrified thought:
This is really happening.
He's pressing against me, hard and aggressive, and I can't move. I can'tmove. My body goes rigid, frozen with terror. His other hand fumbles at my apron, yanking it.
I squirm, trying to push him off, but it’s like fighting a brick wall. I’m weak from too many hours on my feet, from skipping meals, from everything. Too weak to fight this. To fighthim.
My heartbeat pounds in my ears, erratic and sick.
“No one’s coming to save you,” he whispers in my ear. “So stop struggling. Just be a good girl.”
I try to scream again, try to bite. Anything to save me, but he’s too strong. I’m not strong. I’mnot ready.
Oh God.
I’ve never even kissed someone properly. Never gone beyond the pages of the stories I try to write, the ones I scribble in secret when the loneliness gets too loud. I thought I could wait. That it would happen when I was loved, chosen, andsafe.
And now this man, this monster, is going to take something from me I’ll never get back.
Tears prick at my eyes. My whole body trembles. I can’t even tell where the fear ends and the shame begins.
Please, someone help me.
"Get your hands off my woman.”
In a heartbeat, he’s gone.
Ripped away from me so fast I stumble forward.
“Don't you fucking dare touch my angel,” a voice snarls. Rough. Furious. Pure violence barely leashed.
