"Stop, please, don't make me do this, don't touch me like that!" I beg, I plead, I demand. He does not even look me in the eye. He's on top of me, groping me, molesting me, lapping up the sweat of fear from my skin. He forces himself in and thrusts. I scream and fight but he weighs me down, forcing the pain all directions. "Stop!" I scream. He throws me to the ground and slaps me hard on the face. "Fine then" his face is maliscious and threatening. He licks his lips and grimaces at my naked body, ugly, undesirable, disgusting. I bring my knees to my chest and cry. He turns and pulls from the shadows a body, pale and rosy and naked, the face terrified and naive. "Don't you dare, you filthy-" I jump up and scratch at his grotesque body, at his face and his arms and at his nude frame, "Leave her alone!" I scream.
I scream more and more, scratching out, moving so violently so that the cloth burns at my tender skin. I laid in a pool of my own sweat. Someone's shaking me, calling out my name, they sound desperate and concerned. My eyes flash open and infront of me I see a kind, familiar face, but I can't think straight and my guts are churning. I throw up on the bed sheets convulsing under the duvet. I look up guiltily but can't stop another surge of vomit. The woman's weary, kind eyes pity me as she holds my hair back preparing for more sick. I throw up twice more then lay back into the pillow, shameful and nauseated with the fumes.
"There, there, deary. Let me help you out" She peels the sheets from my skin sticky with sweat, careful not to unsettle the pool of liquids.
"I'm- I'm sorry" I mumble in a stutter, the faint image of grimacing, perverted eyes flash in my mind from my dream, my back arches forward and a dribble of bile exits my lips and onto the carpet. "Oh I- god I'm sorry" I start to weak, feeling disgusted.
"Not to worry, sweetheart. It's a good thing you ate last night, hm?" She begins unbuttoning my woollen pyjama shirt that she lent me last night, belonging to her son. I nod in agreeance. "Come, now. Lets get these nasty clothes off" Her voice turns nasel and I realise she's avoiding having to smell the sick, I bow my head. "There's a spare nighty in that cupboard, yes just there" she indicates an old oak dresser and I pull out a silky night dress. "I'll sort out this bed, you can go to my room - you know where it is? Yes? okay - go into the top draw and you can borrow some of my underwear" she goes to open the window and pauses, holding the handle "They may be a bit big" she glances at my small frame, I gulp, a little self concious, "But I'll take you shopping soon, and we'll get you some new ones, more your size. Would you like that, to get out for a while?" She sees my uncomfortable expression, "Yes well, not quite today, but soon. Go now, choose any set you like, there's some pretty lacy ones, and when you're done you can get yourself something to eat and I'll have a bath ready for you by the time you're done" I look unsure but she smiles encouragingly so I do as she instructs and go to find her room.
I cling onto the thin cloth in my hands and shiver in the dim lighted hallway, only in my underwear, still dripping with sweat from the nightmare. I stroke my still burning throat and try to remember which room I need to go to feeling childish and naive. I decide that standing waiting for some magical guidance as to which room it is and I daredn't ask after dirtying up the spare bedroom, so I wander down the landing and peak through doors left ajar in hope of some indication. Not that one, that's clearly the bathroom.. This one must be used for laundry, all I can see is piles of clothes, baskets and hanging lines, hmm.. this one? I see a bed.. I push the door slightly to peer in, the room is decorated in a deep midnight blue. There's jars with candles in and colourful paper cranes on the ceiling accompanied by glow in the dark stars and a beautful dream catcher with the softest looking feathers, I reach out to touch the and let each strand graze my fingertips, feeling in a dream like state, untouchable, elevated. I look out of the window at the milky morning sky, where twinges of the suns light barely glows behind the thick cloudy consistancy and reach out to touch the transparent glass, cold to the touch, numbing my skin.
