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Show m my father's-house/ 357 down the window, listening for the birds, drinking a deep draught of the soft, verdant air. "Home," I whispered, and closed my eyes. I must have fallen asleep, into dreaming so deeply that I was beyond consciousness, for when I awakened, it was with a violent start, a terror of something horribly amiss. I was stretched flat across the car seat and he knelt above me, unbuckling his belt. "No!" I struggled to sit up. With a hand flat against my chest, he pushed me back and pinned me down so that my head was crushed between his shoulder and the steering wheel. "Don't..." My voice weltered into a sob. I tried to push him away. "Please don't." My arms felt leaden, as though the full cans of beer had been transplanted beneath my skin. My whole being was heavy, devoid of light. "Come on, baby," he said. I could feel his leer, the canine redness of his mouth on mine. I twisted my neck and struggled to get my knee up. He pinned my arms over my head with once hand and fumbled at my skirt with the other. "Don't. Don't you see, I grew up around here," I whimpered. "This is my home..." "Don't worry, baby,"he hissed. "You'll like it." "No!" I screamed, pulling free to push at him with leaden arms, with the legs I could no longer feel. And then it was too late and pain blurred words and severed feeling, cutting deeply into my soul, a cleaver through the center of my being. I was betrayed, had betrayed myself. % spirit strangled. Somewhere the Cheaseman's peacock strutted, |
