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Then a barely audible whisper.
“Lelu.”
Like a dam breaking, images flood my head. My pulse races so hard I swear he can hear it. I force myself to lie still as long suppressed memories come spilling back in.
I’m tossed back in time to a little girl walking the streets alone. She missed the bus, or it never came to get her. Either way, she was forced to walk to school. A white car pulls up. A man she recognizes leans out and says, “Do you need a ride to school?”
“No,” she replies, smiling back but continuing to move forward.
The man frowns and pulls ahead, only to stop the car and get out.
Then darkness swallowed my vision.
A forest takes the place of my dark room. The smell of pine and damp earth assaults my senses. My lungs scream in pain as I huffed shallow breaths in and out. The uneven forest floor tore up the soles of my feet as I moved swiftly through the unmarked path. I was running. Running without a sense of direction. Running for my life.
I didn’t know if I was being chased, but I knew if I stopped moving, I’d wind up dead. Just like her.
The image shapes and morphs again, this time into something less frightening.
A boy. I’m a woman now, but at the time of the memory, he was around my age. With brown, messy hair and kind eyes that looked at me with fear and concern wrapped into one as he ran into my bedroom and dropped to his knees in front of me.
“North,” he whispered before reaching up and taking my hand into his. “Please talk to me.”
Another groan sounds, pulling me from the memories. Fear wraps around me like a weighted blanket, threatening to keep me here forever. But the face of the boy from my memories gives me the strength I desperately need. I refuse to go down without a fight. It’s time for me to take back what’s mine, once and for all.
Or die trying.
Another, “Lelu,” slips from his lips on a disgusting moan, and it’s then I realize he must be touching himself over my bed. The thought sickens me at the same time it spurs me into action. Carefully, I slip my hand over my head and wrap my fingers around the lamp on the bedside table. I swallow the vomit as I wait until his grunts get a little louder. Taking a deep breath, I scream, jackknife up into a sitting position, and launch the lamp in the direction of his head.
“Fuck!” He roars like the monster he is as I scramble from the bed and fly out into the hall. My socks slip on the hardwood as I round the corner into the living room. His heavy steps thunder behind me, sending terror flooding through my veins.
I race to the front door and grip the handle but find it locked. I get the deadbolt flipped. My fingers shake so hard I can’t get a grip on the small metal piece inside the handle. My blood whooshes through my ears, and I can feel him getting closer. Just as I get the piece twisted and turn the handle, I’m yanked back by a crushing grip on my bicep.
I cry out in pain as I’m jerked backward, my head twisting to see the murderous look on Mr. Stewart’s face.
“Never again!” he bellows as he twists around and backhands me straight across the face. My lips splits against my teeth and blood fills my mouth. I crash backward into the wall of the foyer and land in a heap on the floor.
Mr. Stewart advances toward me with his pants still around his thighs, evidence of my earlier thought he was masturbating over me. I try to push away from the wall and stand, but he climbs on top and forces me back down so I’m bent at an odd angle against the wall. My neck screams in pain with the weight of him putting pressure on my neck. Without warning, he starts rutting against me as bile rushes up my throat. His hard, vile erection presses against my lower stomach. I twist and turn to get away from him, but the struggle seems to spur him on.
“You’re mine,” he sneers as droplets of spittle land on my face. Abruptly, he stands, grabs my ankles, and drags me farther away from the wall. I thrash and kick, but it’s no use when he has both of my ankles in his grasp. He drags me a good twenty feet from the door before flipping me over onto my stomach. His abhorrent fingers begin yanking up the sides of my nightgown and all the blood in my body runs cold.
“No,” I scream, horrified.
“Yes,” he pants gleefully. He digs an elbow into the center of my spine, causing me to flatten, and his hot, disgusting breath fans across my neck. “I’m going to take my time with you, and I’m going to fucking enjoy it, my Lelu.”
He grinds against my backside, and this time, I can’t choke back the vomit. I cough and sputter, dragging welcome air into my lungs and then the unthinkable happens.
The door to the house slams open against the wall, and a voice I not only recognize, but am desperate to hear, bellows, “Stewart!”
Half a second later, Niko’s eyes zero in on the two of us wrestling on the floor and a look of pure, white-hot rage covers his face. He takes two giant steps before the audible crunch of his fist connecting with Mr. Stewart’s face resounds around the room.
The weight of him topples off me, and my lungs expand with a much-needed breath. Then Niko is there, hauling me off the floor and into his arms.
“Doe,” he chokes out. Taking one look at my vomit-covered pajamas, he yanks off his coat and wraps it around me as other people filter into the room. “I’m so fucking sorry, Doe.”
My teeth chatter loudly as the shakes begin, and his eyes do a scan of my face. When he reaches my split lip and the blood on my chin, he lets out a howl of rage. “Goddammit!”
“Niko.” I reach out and grab his face as he looks away, his face a mask of painful regret. I don’t want to go another minute like this, so I turn his attention back to me.
“I’m so sorry.” He tries again, but I put pressure on either side of his face to silence him.
“I remember, Niko.”
His much larger hand covers mine. “I know you do. I’m so sorry I left you with this monster,” he apologizes, misunderstanding what I’m trying to say.
“No, Niko. I remember everything,” I emphasize, watching the confusion steal over his face.
“I remember you.”
