Amissis Imperium

Breaking Point

Monday afternoon

I just laid there on the floor, staring up at the ceiling panels that hadn't looked like they were cleaned in a while if ever. The stains from various liquids were on the tiles themselves – and I thought I'd seen some mold in the corner of the room.

At least something was alive in this terrible place...it was thriving on the decay of other things.

Mold...

Mold was similar to Evan.

Wasn't it?

How so?

No, wait...

I see it now.

Decay was something that they had in common. Feeding off of the life force of something else, slowly consuming it until there was nothing left. A ghost of a smile appeared on my face from that thought – I was comparing the horrendous and inhuman Evan...I was comparing that monster to mold.

Even though that comparison was a bit too generous for someone as despicable as him...

Fun-Funny.

That was fun-n-ny.

Ha-Ha.

Ha.

"Nat?" Evan's voice was distorted and seemed to be far away.

Was he in this room?

He wasn't in this room, was he?

Room...Bathroom.

School bathroom...

The bathroom – I was in the bathroom. On the ground. I was on the ground in the bathroom. He wasn't here.

Why would he be here?

What happened?

I thought for a moment, my broken thoughts trying to tie themselves together. It seemed like I had just gained consciousness after being asleep for weeks. The last thing that I remembered...The very last thing was a struggle and then...?

Oh...

That's right.

I remember – he raped me.

Again.

Why?

Dried tears were on both of my cheeks, but I didn't move.

I didn't even twitch a single muscle.

I didn't look over at him.

I heard him faintly zip up his pants, every noise was muffled to my own ears. I could see that he narrowed his eyes down at me. "Natalie," he spoke, but I still couldn't move. I only stared up at the ceiling tiles.

I didn't feel anything – I couldn't feel anything when everything had gone numb. I didn't move the tips of my fingers. My toes might as well have been cut off. The leggings that I was wearing...they weren't fitting me right. I felt crust from the dried fluids on my inner thighs.

This wasn't my body – this was a stranger's body at this point.

Why does he keep hurting me...?

Why?

Stupid question.

Because he can – duh, Natalie.

Duh.

"Natalie," his voice was darker and more commanding. It practically demanded that I address him or acknowledge him in some way. It sounded less intimidating with the muffled filter in my ears. He was trying to get me to respond.