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Because they’re sick and twisted! Because watching something suffer because its smaller and weaker than they are… makes them feel… powerful. In control.
Yes.
The stepbeast felt me relenting, giving in.
“That’s a good girl.” I heard the grin his voice. He wins. The house always wins.
I looked up, past him, and saw the stars, a full moon. I heard the sound of his buckle, his zipper. It was like a dream, just a dream.
I’m the mouse. Where’s my tail? I’m the mouse. Three blind mice. I’m the mouse. He chopped off the tail with a carving knife. No it was the butcher’s wife. Mommy it hurts. I can’t see, it’s dark. Mommy where are you going? Going? Gone? Three blind mice. See how they run. See how they…
Run!
He was too heavy. I whimpered and turned my head as he struggled with my jeans, the snap, the zipper. This wasn’t happening. I was floating away, going, going. I closed my eyes and was blind. Sound receded. He swore and yanked at my jeans, still on top of me, weighing me down.
I flashed on my dream from that morning and a jolt went through me. He was burying me. Burying me alive. Because I was… I was…
Alive!
I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry or beg or make any sound at all.
I watched him kneel up and straddle my thigh, the shape of his head blotting out the rising moon. He was determined to take off my jeans and have his way. And then he would finish the job he started two years before.
“Little help here, Sara?” He yanked one side, then the other, down my hips.
“Sure.” I brought my knee up—the one he was straddling, as hard as I could.
The stepbeast howled. He grabbed for his crotch but I did it again before he could cover up. He howled some more, swearing, calling me names, but I couldn’t hear him. The drumbeat of my own heart was too loud in my ears. He grabbed for me with his other hand, catching hold of my wrist, but with only one limb in his grasp and an aching crotch to cover, he wasn’t strong enough to hold me. Maybe he never had been.
He teetered, still groaning, and I knew if he fell my direction, it was over.
I rolled right on the asphalt, scrambling to my feet and breaking into a run, pulling my jeans up my hips as I went/
“Get back here right now!”
I almost stopped. I’d been so conditioned once upon a time that some part of me insisted I scurry back. I’m not that mouse anymore. I heard him coming after me, the shuffle and grunt. He’d put on weight in jail. I glanced behind me to see him gaining. Whatever painful impact I’d had on his crotch was clearly fading enough for him to give chase.
And the entrance to the square was behind me. Behind him.
I’d run in the wrong direction.
“Sara!” he called, coming faster now. “Get back here right now!”
I was trapped in the corner made by two giant tour busses. I could continue to run around the maze, double back, head for the exit.
“Sara!”
Or I could stay right here and wait for the end.
“Sara! Sara!”
That wasn’t the stepbeast calling.
“Dale?” I whispered.
The stepbeast grabbed my wrist in his fist, turning me around to face him and slamming me against the side of the bus. The back of my head hit the metal and I winced. I saw his face in the moonlight, the sideways sneer, his eyes glinting. He had something in his other hand. That glinted too.
“You’re nothing.” I sneered right back at him with pure disgust. “Less than nothing,”
