My classmates, so oblivious, didn’t ask questions, didn’t ask for his name or his daughter’s name. They just sat blinking at the wall, at his voice, at the fascinating horror of a distant case in another country.
No one looked at me except Mr. James Donald. He watched me like he was waiting for me to break.
I felt the old terror clawing its way back up my throat, the heavy certainty that no matter where I ran, the truth would always find me.
When the bell finally rang. I didn’t hear it. All I heard was my heartbeat, the sound of someone drowning, the cackle of children, the smell of alcohol, the feel of hands clawing at my skin.
All I heard was France whispering behind me again. Louder this time.
29
BETH
“Religious people,” I said. “Trying to fix me”
Darkness.
A suffocating, endless void.
Then hands. They claw at my skin, grip my thighs, and rip my clothes.
The air in the alley was damp and thick with the scent of rotten garbage and urine. My hands scrambled against the cold asphalt, nails chipping as I tried to crawl out of their captivity.
“Fucking cunt,” one sneered. “Where do you think you’re going, huh?”
I couldn’t see his face. Couldn’t see any of their faces. I just knew they were four in numbers. And they weighed heavierthan me. Their shadow stretched across the wall, grotesque monsters with way too many limbs.
“I want you to know that you deserve this.” A sharp ache rippled between my thighs as one shoved himself inside me, hard, rough, while the others held down my hands, my legs, muffling my screams. “So stay still and take it like a good girl.”
“I see you have never had a man down there,” he cackled and the rest joined in. “So fucking tight.”
“Hurry up,” another uttered, the sound of a zipper piercing through the chaos in my head. “You can’t take all the fun.”
“There’s plenty enough to go around,” the one on top of me said, pulling out only to slam harder into me, gravel biting into my skin at every wicked thrust. “She’s still so fucking moist.”
They continued to laugh as they took turns. Some went twice, some thought they needed more after the third one. So turn after turn, thrusts after thrusts, punches after punches, they soiled me, they stole my innocence, they milked me dry.
Screaming wouldn’t help. Yet I screamed until my throat was raw. Until the stars above blurred into nothing. Until I couldn’t feel my body anymore.
I faded.
I drowned.
I—
Beep! Beep! Beep!
My body jerked, my breath hitching as the sound of the alarm ripped me from the nightmare. A long gasp tore through my chest, my heart hammering against my rib cage. My finger clawed at my throat, tugging violently at their wicked grips, the phantom presence of their fingers pressing and suffocating.
For the first few seconds, I wasn’t in my room. I was still there, the dark alleyway before Rue Augustin Boulevard, with the scent of filth and blood coating my tongue, the echoes of laughter crawling beneath my skin.
But the faint glow of the nightstand lamp grounded me, and the alarm clock that glowed 6:30 a.m.
I swallowed hard, rubbing my face as I forced myself to breathe. I ran a finger through my hair, the heels of my palms pressing into my eyes, exhaustion weaving into my bones.
I glanced down at my body. Sweat beaded on my skin, and the cotton sheet wrapped around me was damp, clinging to my body.
I rolled my neck to work out the stiff muscles, then finally dragged myself out of bed.
