TRIGGER HEAVY CHAPTER
Molly went home happy and was pleased to see nobody home when she arrived. She set her books down in her room and started her homework. The day was the best she'd had in months, and she hoped it stayed that way. Still, she knew the inevitable of her parents coming home from work, and the cycle starting over.
After a precious hour of loneliness, Molly heard the front door open, and the heavy footsteps of her father coming into the house. Her heart plunged and she squeezed her eyes shut as the door was slammed mercilessly against the walls. She knew that he knew nobody was home except for her, and the thought terrified her.
She could hear the footsteps coming close to her room, and an anxiety attack rose upon her. She kept herself as calm as she could and kept at her homework, until she heard the click of her bedroom door being shut. Her every instinct was telling her to run, to stand up and bolt out of the room, out of the flat, neighborhood- get as far away as possible. But she sat frozen in the familiar fear that came upon her every time she was left alone with the monster of a man that was approaching her.
Rough hands pushed her books to the side, and her body against the bed. The cool breeze of her fan touched her skin where her clothes had been. Struggles lead to red, smarting skin, and her body was restricted under the larger one one holding her down. Her eyes squeezed shut and she heard the click of a belt being undone, and it took everything she had not to cry as her body was violated. Pain seared throughout her, inside and out, and she struggled again. Run away. Run away. Don't hurt me. Stop. Stop stop stop. Her nails dug into the palm of hand as she squirmed and tried to pull away, and a handprint glowed red on her cheek. The pain grew, more, and more, and more, and words were said, but her humiliation and pain wouldn't allow her to hear them. Go away. No. Stop. Please. Her eyes weren't able to stay shut for so long, but she refused to look upwards at the face that was so close. Her eyes strayed to the side, and then squeezed shut again. She could feel herself being freed, and the sound of a zipper zipping up, words being said again, and her bedroom door closing, let her know it was over.
Molly's fists clenched and hot tears rolled down her cheeks and neck as she straightened herself out, then rolled over to her side, clutching the bear on her bed that signified any innocence she might have been left with. The occurrence wasn't the first, and she knew it'd not be the last. Everything hurt, physically and mentally, and she wanted nothing more than to be dead. And with death in mind, and tears on her face, she fell asleep in a nightmare ridden coma.