Yes, I’m on the second floor.But there’s several inches of snow out there, which might cushion my fall.I’d rather break a leg than smell his stink again, or feel his hands on me.
So I push with all my might to open the wooden window frame.It’s painted shut.Or nailed.Or glued.
This guy thinks of everything.
Footsteps.Tick, tick, tick.
No.
My hands shake uncontrollably as my eyes scan the room again.Something… anything to protect myself.Make it harder for him to get what he wants.Maybe he’ll decide I’m not worth the effort.
That’s pretty funny.Tonight I’m praying that I’m not worth the effort, when I’ve begged for the opposite my entire life.
My fingers touch the hem of my ripped nightshirt, and I suddenly know what to do.I hurl myself in the direction of the closet and shove my hand inside, sweeping blindly until I find it.I use both hands to peel away a piece of sharp metal from the ironing board.It makes a horrible screeching sound.
I’m out of time.
But it comes off in my hands.I fall back and hit the tile floor.
Footsteps just behind the door now.I flip over and squirm my body into the narrow space between the box springs and the floor.It can’t be more than six inches deep.Not enough room for an average-sized teenager to hide.
But I’m small for a sixteen-year-old girl.
I make it under the bed just as I hear the useless door lock slide right open, and he’s here.
Tick, tick.
There’s no yelling or door slamming with him.His business is quiet.Secret.
The door closes with the barest sound.
But his breathing is loud, almost a growl.
His head suddenly swings down, and he stares into the space under the bed.I’m clutching the metal so tight that it’s cutting into my palm.I don’t even feel it.
“Make a single sound and you die.”
His face is blurred in the dim light.Good.I don’t want to see him.It’ll be easier for me that way.
“Get out from under there and get on the bed.”
I shudder with disgust and fear.All day today, I forced myself not to think of that voice.I want to forget it.I want to have never heard it.I know he lied.Tricked me.To get what he wanted.
Why didn’t I fight him?Why did I let him?
“Move or I’ll make damn sure it’s worse than last night.”
I’m paralyzed with terror, but my body shakes violently.
Why didn’t I fight back?
His head disappears, and for one instant, I think he’s given up.Not worth the effort.I’m safe.
I’m wrong.
A hand slaps around my ankle, squeezes hard, and yanks.I whimper in pain.
“Shut your fucking mouth.”
