Page 151 of Trailer Trash

Two months pass, and the Florida heat cools as October arrives. Snowbirds move back into their winter homes. Life goes on as usual.

Just not for me. My heart lives with Killian.

“My heart lives with my rapist,” I correct, but no solace comforts my bleeding heart.

Before bed, I place my palms together and whisper, “Killian, I hope you’re okay. Please, just let me know where you are.”

My vision is hazy. The curtains glow a dull orange, keeping the sunlight at bay.

I’m groggier than usual. I’m not used to sleeping in. I wonder what time it is. I need to get to school.

I attempt to rise, but my eyelids are heavy. I drift back asleep.

It seems like only minutes before I’m reawakened. My body twitches, but my legs won’t move. I glance down.

My heart stops.

A man in a burlap mask stands over my bed. He wears a long-sleeved black shirt, pants, and gloves.

I scream.

Nothing.

My lips move, but only my breath passes them.

The sheet slips off, revealing my helpless body in a camisole and underwear. He pulls down my panties and spreads my legs. He moves onto the bed. The mattress creaks. He lowers his face, pushing his mask up just enough to reveal his mouth. It’s too dim to see his face. A tongue parts me.

I whine, the sound barely audible.

I fade out.

I fade in.

I whimper as my body ignites, awake when I’m not. My hips buck, just a little, as the pleasure builds. His fingertips tease my entrance, threatening to dip in, yet doesn’t. He just circles, driving me insane.

A moan, weak and timid, escapes my lips. The man sucks on my clit harder.

My eyelids close.

When they flutter open, the mask is above me. We’re face to face.

The bed moves. My body moves.

Slow. Deep.

He’s fucking me.

I scream without sound. My heart pounds, raging against my eardrums.

Darkness steals my vision.

It’s over.

For a long time.

The sunlight stains the curtains orange. I awaken, sitting straight up, panting and scared. I hold my palm over my heart, the beat wild and fast.

Quickly, I lift the sheet. My underwear is on. I finger myself. No cum. No soreness. I have the worst migraine, though.