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I bet she was probably thinking, ‘What are you going to be able to do? You're beaten black and blue. And they are so much bigger than us.’
Without waiting for her to reply, I crawled further to her, and then slowly spun my body and went through the awful pain of sitting up and giving her my back.
But not before I reached behind the toilet seat and untapped a knife I had stashed there the last time one of the men had touched me in here.
So, there I sat. Using my body as a barricade of sorts, ensuring that they will have to go through me to get to her. And I held onto that knife and vowed that neither one of us was going to be touched unless we wanted to be.
After a few wordless moments, the only thing in the room was my pain-filled breathing.
Then the softest whisper hit my ear, “My name is Lily.”
That was when I felt it. And had to bite my tongue.
When her fingers grazed my ribs, I let out a harsh hiss.
She went to move them, but I shook my head, gritted my teeth, and said, “If that makes you feel safe, you hold on to me there.”
And that was what she did.
She wrapped her little arms around my waist and pressed her face against my back.
I didn’t know how I did it, but I managed to keep the puke at bay.
“Hurry up.” I heard my mother shout.
I felt the girl at my back tense.
In a pain-filled whisper, I said, “It’s going to be okay.”
As I said that I could tell that he had done some serious damage. I really needed to be lying flat. Not sitting up like this.
Then I heard two sets of pounding feet headed in our direction.
Lily started to shake.
And when the vile woman that birthed me appeared, followed by the sick fuck behind her, I gritted out, “You’re… not… going… to… touch… her.”
Fuck but I was hurt. Badly. It was getting harder to breathe. I could taste copper in my mouth.
The man laughed darkly, “Oh, is that right? And what do you think you’re going to do?”
I didn’t say a word except to move the knife in front of me, making sure the two of them saw it.
Then the vile woman snapped, “Move. My god. Can’t you do anything right? I knew I should’ve aborted you.”
I snapped, “No.”
Then I regretted speaking at all.
Pain ricocheted through my chest, and I tasted even more blood.
When I refused, the vile woman kicked my leg, “Move out of the way, you piece of shit.”
“You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” I said and bore the undeniable pain I was in.
“What’s that?” she snapped, and there it was, the all too familiar alcohol on her breath.
“Being a piece of shit,” I said with zero emotion.
