I like the thought of you giving me a blowjob. How I hated being a prisoner even for a few terrible minutes.īut sometimes, when I was tired or stressed or sleep deprived, I couldn’t fight off the shadows of that night.īaseball Cap and Adidas were there, ready to touch me, hurt me-make me forget I was safe and they could never touch me. How petrified I’d been while being molested. I’D CARRIED THAT day in the alley with me for three years.Īnd most of the time, I was able to ignore how it had made me feel. The police.ĭesperation for help pressurized inside me the closer Greg came. I won’t ask again.” I fumbled for the silver bag I’d dumped by the pantry.
Seconds turned to fractions, inching over a clock dial as his feet inched over my floor.
I took a step back, trying to keep distance between us. “Aw, you’re so cute when you’re mad.” He entered the kitchen, his gaze dropping to my legs as if judging how best to incapacitate me. I shivered as he laughed, his eyes alight and face crinkled with mirth.
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