I can’t move.
I am here. I am awake. And I am trapped inside myself while the rest of me just lies there like fucking bait.
But I can still feeleverything. The cold press of my wet jeans. The heat of his body. The fear is focusing my blurry mind, and it’s enough to realize it’s ahe.
I’m focused enough to feel the pressure where the mattress dips under his weight as he sits down too close and the heavy weight of his hand moving up my thigh.
But I can’t seem todoanything about it.
I can’t shove him off. I can’t swing or bite or scratch or scream,Get off me, dipshit!
I just have to lie here, staring at the ceiling like a prop in someone else’s fantasy.
“Don’t—” I manage to whisper, but it’s so faint.
The drugs have turned me into a breathing mannequin. I’m here, I’m aware, but I’m also…not here.
Maybe I did drown, and this is just the part where hell gets personal.
The guy’s hand squeezes higher on my thigh, hard enough that pain shoots up my leg like an electric shock.
“Shhh,” the voice says, and it’s not soft anymore. The warmth has drained out, replaced by something thatdrips with want. Something impersonal and cold at the core. “You’ll like it. Promise.”
No no no no no.
The word spins in my head like a scratched record, stuck on the groove.
And then I’m twelve again.
It’s not this room anymore. It’sthatone. The carpet smelled like beer. The walls smelled like cigarettes. The man—God, I don’t even remember his real name, they all might as well be Todd, another Todd, an unending line of Todds—smelled like Axe and bottom shelf tequila.
Not again.
I swore,never again.
But it’s always again. Because this is what I’m built for, right?
Men see me, and they see prey. The girl from the trailer with the drunk mom and the jailbird dad. Vulnerable. Unprotected. Easy pickings.
The air changes. The sheets aren’t silk anymore—they’re the scratchy Goodwill set I used to have, the one with the faded roses. And his face shifts, and it’s Todd again. Not the most recent Todd but two Todds before that. The one who asked if I wanted to touch it.
I can’t breathe. My body’s screaming—move,fight—but I’m pinned by more than just his weight. It’s the drugs. It’s the memories. It’s all of it, tangled together into a sick knot I can’t get free of.
Daddy, please.
The thought comes out of nowhere, sharp and childish and pathetic.Daddy, come back. Take me with you.
I’m twelve, and last night, Todd asked me to touch it. I managed to run away and hide. But if Dad doesn’t take me with him, if he goes off again and leaves me behind, I don’t know how many times I can hide before Todd traps me in a room I can’t escape.
Daddy, take me with you! Save me!
But I know better. I’ve known better for years. He’s not taking me with him. And he’s not coming back. He left me with Darlene. He abandoned me with Darlene and all herTodds.
“Don’t cry, beautiful,” the voice croons, and it makes my skin crawl.
I didn’t even realize I was crying until he said it.
Then he’s on top of me. The air’s gone. My ribs ache with the weight. The clock in the corner starts ticking loud enough to hurt my ears.