I cowered in fear as I heard the old, wooden door to my bedroom creak open . I suppressed a whimper as his work boots made heavy contact against the wooden floor, each step becoming louder and louder as he grew closer. I should've been prepared, I knew it would be coming and yet I felt as if I could never fully prepare myself for times like these. My emerald eyes lowered to the floor as I backed myself further against the wall furthest from him. I couldn't force myself to look up, even when I felt his breath against my face. After a few seconds passed, he grabbed my face in his hand, his fingers digging violently into my cheeks as he forced me to look up at him.
"When I call you, you come." He hissed, gripping my face more tightly until I winced in pain. It wasn't until then that I realized he held a vodka bottle in his left hand. I could clearly smell the alcohol on his breath as he talked to me, his face only inches from mine. After a few seconds of silence, he dropped his hand from my face and brought the bottle to his lips, taking a long swig of it before lowering it again to look at me. "Thought you understood that, girl." That was one of the many things I hated, he couldn't ever refer to me by my first name, unless… I shook the thought from my mind.
"Sorry." I mumbled softly, my heart beating wildly against my chest. I could never predict what was coming next but with him in my room, it never ended well. He shook his head in disgust, taking a small step closer to me so that his body made full contact with mine. Swallowing hard, I began to panic. Flashes of the last time came flooding back to me and I immediately began shaking. He grabbed for my wrist but I quickly pulled away and did the only thing I could rationalize at the time, I ran. The cold floorboards had almost made me lose feeling in my feet but I continued towards the door, knowing it was my only chance. I felt a bit of relief wash over me as I reached for the doorknob, twisting it in an attempt to gain freedom. Suddenly, the door slammed shut before I could finish pulling it open fully. The feeling of relief disappeared in an instant as panic set in once more. I dropped to the ground in a pathetic attempt to buy myself a few more seconds.
"Don't be difficult, girl." He growled, taking a fistful of my chocolate brown hair in his hand. I cried out in pain as he pulled me off the floor and held me against the door. "You make it so much harder on yourself when you struggle." I opened my mouth to scream as a last attempt but as if he expected it, he clamped his dirty hand over my mouth to silence me. Not thinking clearly, I bit his hand in self defense and was amazed when he removed it from my mouth. Before I could make another attempt to run, he raised his hand and slapped me across the face. Tears stung my eyes as I brought my hand up to touch my burning cheek. "Bitch."
I struggled against him the best that I could as he grabbed my arms, forcing me to the ground on my stomach. With my arms pinned strongly behind my back, my fighting and struggling began to die down until I laid there, motionless and panting on the cold ground. I knew he'd been waiting for me to lose strength and tire myself out and yet I had continued to struggle until I was physically exhausted. A few more minutes passed until he picked me up off the ground and brought me to my bed. Immediately I began to struggle again as he forced me down on the bed and reached for my shirt.
"Please," I started, shaking my head furiously at his touch. Besides physically being exhausted, I began to feel sick as his hand slipped under my shirt and gently touched my skin. "don't do this." He seemed to ignore my words, focused on one thing and one thing only: my body. As he moved his hands down to grab for my shirt again I closed my eyes tightly shut. Slowly he peeled it off, exposing the cuts and bruised skin on my stomach. I heard him sigh slightly to himself before he ran his hands across my stomach, being careful not to hurt me. His rough, calloused hands didn't feel right against my warm and tender skin. My body began trembling again as I came to the realization that this time would be no different than last time. My fighting, my screaming, my tears, they meant nothing to him.
"Relax," He whispered, his lips brushing against my left cheek. The familiar smell of vodka still lingered on his breath. As his hands made their way down to the edge of my worn out blue jeans, I began growing more and more frantic. I began kicking, twisting, pushing, pulling, biting, hitting, anything I could do to try and get him to stop. I didn't want this to happen again, I couldn't let this happen again. He was becoming more and more frustrated the more that I fought him until he finally managed to grasp both of my tiny wrists in his hand and straddled my body, putting enough wait on my lower half to force me to hold still. Mascara tears began leaving trails of black down my face as I let them flow freely, not holding back anymore as he finally managed to unbutton the jeans. "I love you." These were the last words I heard before I let myself slip into my safe place, my imaginary world. A world where I was safe, where my mother was still around. A world where I couldn't feel pain anymore…