Page 4 of Psychotic Nightmares

Be quiet.

Be a good girl.

I repeat the mantra in my head as he rips my underwear down my legs and shoves them into the top pocket of his shirt. Staying quiet equals survival.Fighting back could mean death, just like Justine - my foster sister who wasn’t quiet, who wasn’t still. I swallow down the bile rising in my throat as I remember the smell of her rotting body. And the heavy feeling in my 8 year old shoulders as I dugout the hole in the backyard to bury her in. Pa made me bury her after he threw her body in the shallow hole, twisted her around, breaking her bones until she could fit. Then said if I told anyone what happened I will be going to jail too for helping him bury her. I light a candle for her every year. I never forgot everything she did for me. I tried my best to help the younger ones like she helped me, but I failed multiple times. I couldn’t save them from Pa or the uncles assaults. I couldn’t save them from Ma’s relentless beatings.

I failed.

I shouldn’t be living right now, not when I didn’t save them from danger.

They’re all probably just as fucked up as me now, and it’s all my fault. I couldn’t save them.

I know you don’t think it’s my fault, but you were there. I could have done more to help them.

Howard licks up my neck. What if I screamed right now? Would my stalker hear me? Would he come in and save me like he did that night at the lake? One of Howardshands comes up and squeezes against my throat, almost cutting off my air supply. I guess I won’t be screaming.

Think happy thoughts Natalie, happy thoughts. Don’t let your brain think about what Howardshand is currently playing with.

“Looks like I’ll have to get you wet myself. I don’t want to hurt myself going in dry.” I hear him spit on his hand before feeling him rub against my entrance again.

Happy thoughts.

Happy. Thoughts.

Thinking back, I realise I have none.My life has never been happy, unless you count the odd day here and there. Like that day at the beach. From the moment I was born, I was unwanted. Neglected by my birth parents at barely a week old, I was left outside a fire station - cliche right? At the age of one I was fostered out to an elderly couple who apparently were really kind - or that’s what itsays in my file at least. They passed away when I was three in a car accident. My next foster family I was with until I aged out. And they fucked me up for life.

“You’re being sucha good girl Miss Baker. Tonight I will only fuck your tight little cunt, but next time I will have those pretty little lips around my cock.” Howard says before opening up the buttons of my shirt and biting down on my shoulder. He says it as if it’s a promise as well as a threat.

Miss Baker.The name Ma and Pa gave me. Miss Natalie Baker. I had a different name when I was with the elderly couple but I was always told I could never use it again, and even though I left that abusive household yearsago, I never went back to my original name. Never really thought about going back to it until now. My name is tainted now it’s come out of my bosses mouth as he’s raping me.

The first thrust is painful. Not as agonising as the first time Pa did it. But it's still painful.

“Fuck. I knew you were going to be tight, but this is something else.” He groans.

Another thrust.

“God, you feel incredible.”

Thrust.

I notice his letter opener on the desk and my fingers twitch as they try to reach for it.

Stay still.

Be quiet.

Be a good girl.

Pain shoots through my core as he fully thrusts into me now. I feel his sweaty stomach press against my back, causing my shirt to stick.

“Fuck.” He growls. “Such a good girl.” He whispers into my ear before nibbling on the lobe. “I’m glad you know how to behave, Miss Baker. You're my good girl.Mine.” He moves quickly, each thrust inside me feeling like he’s stabbing me over and over again with his dick.

Stab.

Stab.

Stab.

Tick.