Enzo’s gone.
I’m alone.
With his father.
In Enzo’s bedroom.
“Good girl,” Mr. Black says, loosening his grip on my neck.
I still don’t speak, though. I’ve grown up poor. I know what my mother does to earn extra money, and I know how evil this man is who is holding my neck.
I can see in his eyes what he wants to do with me.
Enzo is gone.
The house is empty.
There is no one to save me.
He’ll rape me. Torture me. Kill me if he wants to.
For a split second, I think about fighting back, but what can I do really? I have no muscles. I can’t get free. If I yell, no one will come.
So I do nothing.
I surrender, hoping it will be over faster, that it will hurt less if I give in.
“Good girl,” he says again, watching me silently crumble before him.
I must blackout.
Or maybe my brain blocks it out.
The rest comes in flashes.
My bikini being ripped apart.
Him palming my breasts.
Shoving fingers inside me.
Grabbing my throat so hard it left marks.
Beating me so hard I can still feel the bruises.
Forcing my mouth open to suck him.
Being tied up so hard it left marks on my wrists.
And the violation.
Over.
And over.
And over.
That day was both the longest and the shortest of my life.