Doesn't matter

Does not matter, nothing matters.

Unknown

I am seriously considering suicide. But I don't have the meansor the will for it.

Unknown

Violent morning sickness. Oh God, I can't live like this anymore

Unknown

After what felt like weeks of inertia HE, that murderous, raping bastard came to me.

I hate him, this disgusting, hideous, evil thing. What is he?! Why does this thing exist? How could he do this to me? I might've even been able to forgive him if my flesh now resided in him and the rest of my remains were on his wall or on his desk, but no. My flesh has far worse, and fortunately for HIM, far more pleasurable uses. What IS he? Isn't he immortal? Great so he doesn't even have to answer for his evil in hell. Where does he come from? I've tried to gather my thoughts. I've tried to recall every legend, rumor, myth and scrap of information I've heard about him, but my mind is so jumbled and the information is so scarce that I simply can't do anything about HIM.I buried my face in my hands. I was stuck here, indefinitely. I will probably die here, and I swear to God I can hear a clock ticking in my womb.

HE came to me, he's come before but I was far too concerned with my own grief and horror to pay to much attention to him. He's been keeping me closer than usual, maybe he thinks I'll choke again. Unfortunately I haven't.

He roused me out of a fit of severe depression, I was lying near that table, he tried to keep me on it but I just could NOT be on that thing so I just simply curled up under it. He smelled me but he generally left me be. But today he grabbed me and hauled me out from under it. A surge of panic and disgust shot through me. I hate you, I hate you, I screamed, my fists, which are so small and laughably weak compared to his, beat uselessly.

The Creeper of course was having none of it. Effortlessly, one handed in fact, he heaves me up and pushes me ruthlessly on the table.

"NO!" I scream, I put my whole being into fighting, arms flailing, legs kicking, biting and scratching wherever I can, and it's still not enough. He still pushes me down and forces his weight on me. "Please," I'm sobbing now, "please, please." However he doesn't listen to my pitiable pleas. He forces me down. I don't care its not worth it, I just try to lay still. It'll be over soon. Just close your eyes and get it over with. Just do it, just do it, I think. He's not ripping my clothes off, or climbing on top of me. Don't torture me just get it over with.

Still nothing, he just holds me down. I try squirming upwards again he pushes me down again. No, no, no, I think, but he's not forcing himself on me. He's simply holding me down. I manage to calm myself, but I still hate it, I hate his pressure on me. I gradually stop squirming. He relents a little. The second he moves away I'm gone. I hate that fucking table. Before I can even blink, he's on me again; he's pushed his whole weight on me now. I shriek and squirm uselessly, but the more I struggle the harder he presses on me.

Now I can't move, his whole body is pressed up against mine. If I resist he growls at me, those nasty teeth are an inch away from my face! I just have to lay still, I don't look at him, I'm somewhere else. He gets up slowly. His hands remain on me. I don't move. My muscles feel like they're going to start jerking in confrontation. I can feel the potential energy in them, but I remain still.

Now he smells, a long deep gasp and –hahhhh-, another gasp then –hahhhh- as he releases the air from him lungs. I sigh, perhaps in exasperation. But I'm so relieved. Then he lets me up, very slowly; I have to remain submissive to him. Evil creature I think. He now holds on to me, still smelling, but he observes me visually too. I hate him.

Finally he pushes me away towards my "room", He gestures to my assorted crap. "Get things." He says. I'm feeling apprehensive. "Wha-Why?" I ask confused by everything. He turns to me and says matter-of-factly, "Leaving."

Later

I quickly pack my things, stealing glances of him. He simply gathered what he needed in one big armful. I guess he's not materialistic. I thought maybe, maybe he was letting me go. But that's just a pipe dream, and I realize that he's merely taking me somewhere else. With realization comes disturbing revelations. I realize now that I can't simply escape. If was clever enough I might be able to outwit him, but I'm obviously not, and if by some miracle I do, I just can't deny it happened as I had foolishly planned. He's still inside of me.

Midday

We left early morning all my stuff was in the back of that ugly truck. I still saw no sign of my car. I wanted to ask him, I wanted my car back, I wanted my life back. But I knew if I started screaming at him I would never stop. I can't lose my self now, reality is already blurred. I want to sink my fingers into the soil so I don't slide off the face of the Earth.

So I'm lead, dumbly and docilely like a lamb to that grotesque vehicle. Only a few protest tears slide unnoticed down my face. He herds me to the car while he observes the dawn critically, as if he was expecting bad weather or something. I force myself into that car. The truck's not big on creature comforts. Although I wasn't exactly expecting leather trim and a 5 disk CD player; although, he doesn't have working dash lights, turn signals, or a speedometer either. The windshield has white milky edges like a cataract beginning to form around an eye. It reeks of death. It's every bit as ugly on the inside as it is on the outside.

And of course he drives fast.

He turned to me and grinned, and I pointedly looked away. I hate him so much. After a while I could be semi-comfortable on the filthy seat. I even dozed off a little. However he soon woke me by abruptly ramming into some poor traveler and nearly throwing me out the windshield. My anger erupted into screams at the same time that horrible horn blared.

"Ugh Jeeeesus" I groaned rubbing a golf-ball sized lump on my head. That stupid horn didn't help my forming headache. I turned to him and saw him eagerly leaning over the dusty vents. He sniffed the incoming air, trying to catch a scent, trying to smell a victim.

All my anger was suddenly replaced by horror. Is this what he does? He must have done this to me, smelling my scent trying to see if I was good to eat…

The foul language stays in my mouth. I bite my tongue. Thankfully the Creeper drives past the poor car. No one is hurt except me. I groan again, he pointedly looks away from me.

I want out of this, I want to go home. I panic desperately and uselessly as I gaze outside the tinted window. What did I do to deserve this? I feel like I can't breathe again, but I don't succumb to hysterics. I don't fall asleep again.

Later we stopped for gas.

He found an old abandoned tanker lying curiously in a field near the road. It was already half hidden by the weeds and trees, and it was lying comically on its side like a beached whale. Needing desperately to stretch I got out and poked around. A fist sized hole in the windshield told me all I needed to know about the history of this truck. I shivered and moved away.

While he siphoned and transferred the gasoline, I retrieved a roll of toilet paper from one of my bags. I felt him scrutinize me but he let me walk into the bushes unhindered. Here in the unkempt foliage I have a bit more privacy, and I enjoy my time alone. I consider running through the field trying to escape, but I dismiss it, it would never work, he would catch me. A vision of him swooping down on me like a hawk catching a field mouse passes through my mind.

Reluctantly I return to the BEATNGU truck. My feet felt like lead, a bad emotion floods over me. I stupidly lost my edge of fear then. I didn't see him so I assumed he was on the other side of the truck. I did not remain hyper vigilant. I was distracted by my reflection.

Now I close my eyes wearily. How could I have been so stupid?

Lately I had been wondering what I looked like. I was wondering when I would start to show. I wanted to see if I looked different after almost two months of hell. So when I saw myself reflected in his ominously tinted car window I became curious. I moved in close and inspected my face. I look worn and pale.

My eye barely caught it. Out of the corner of my eye I see the shadow of a figure wearing a Stetson hat; before I can process this information and react he pounces.

I'm pushed up against the truck; I can smell it's covering of dust. I can smell him. His weight is against me again pushing and pushing. My pelvic bones bang brutally against the car door. With all my might I push back against his body, but it's like trying to move a brick wall by simply leaning on it. No use, no point. He redoubles his efforts and my entire torso is pinned between him and the truck. He's in between my legs now, I can't move, my arms are being held by his. I gasp at the sudden intrusion and can see my breath fog the window as he pushes against me repeatedly. Don't struggle no use, no point. He pushes against me again and again and again; I just close my eyes and will it over. It becomes nearly unbearable when I feel his tongue explore my neck then remove a drop of sweat from my temple. The grunts in my ear increase. Just don't struggle. Then, as quickly as he's started he's finished. He simply pulls away and leaves me alone.

I sink to the hot asphalt, and try to vainly cover myself with my tattered skirt.