When Life Gives You Lemons

5. Packing

By the time I'd gotten up, the man had ran to the kitchen, and was now coming at me with a knife.

I held my ground until he was within stabbing distance. He lunged and I purposely fell to my feet. I contorted my body so the knife came down just beside it. He barely missed my liver.

The knife became lodged in the hardwood flooring, as I had hoped. He quickly gave up on the knife and wrapped his hands around my throat.

He squeezed tight, trying desperately to strangle me to death. I pulled on his hands, frantically trying to free myself. It wasn't working, I was starting to loose my breath.

My lungs ached and my heart pounded from lack of oxygen. With the last burst of energy I had before passing out, I drove my heel full force at his groin.

He let go faster than expected. I must have kicked really hard. The instant rush of air down my windpipe left me stunned, panting, and ultimately, vulnerable.

My gazed shifted from an empty stare at the floor, to watching the man as he was doubled over in pain.

When I had fully regained my breath, I sprinted off to my room. But before I could get passed the man, he stood up straight and grasped the collar or my shirt.

I panicked and struggled to get out of the shirt. When I did, he had already caught on and grabbed me by the wrist. He twirled me around and grabbed the other wrist and held both my hands behind my back.

Still restraining me, he shoved me to the floor and held down my legs with his heavy boots. The impact from my face hitting the floor was enough that my nose began to drip blood down my face.

He flipped me over so that I was laying on my back, with my hands underneath my body.

He laughed menacingly. He reached over me and slammed the door shut. He sat down on me, straddling my hips. I thrashed to the best of my ability in this situation, but it was useless and wasted precious energy that I needed to save.

The man leaned down and reached his mouth to mine. I jerked my head to the side. There was no way I was kissing that.

He grabbed my face and turned my head so I was looking at him. I squinted my eyes shut tight. Shivers ran up my spine when I felt him lick the blood from my lips and chin.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I grunted.

His hands moved from my face, down my body and then up my shirt. He grabbed handfuls of fabric and tore my shirt open. "To show you how much stronger than you I am." he continued ripping at the seams until every last piece was off my body.

I began hyperventilating. I knew where he was planning to take this, and I knew he could smell my fear. "I don't care. I've done nothing to you, and I don't even know who you are."

"All the more reason to scare you. This will scar you, which is why I'm doing it."

Hastily and aggressively, he shimmied my shorts and underwear to my knees. I knew this was going to be the final moment before my mind was scarred forever, the moment every girl thinks will never happen to her.

I thought a prayer to myself in my head, that this may be an awful nightmare to wake up from. But it wasn't. He began to do horrible things to me, and beat me while doing so.

Every time I thrashed, he punched me. Every time I contorted my body, he tugged at the skin on my torso. He pulled my hair when I screamed and forced harder if I tried to throw him off me.

It was my own personal hell. I couldn't morph, as my hands were tied behind my back, which would result in breaking both my canine shoulder blades.