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And pushing.
“Quit acting like you’re hard to get when you’re actually hard for someone to even want.”
And pushing.
“How are my sloppy seconds? You aren’t even pretty enough to be this stupid.”
It's endless taunting. We’re far enough away the music is mostly bass and no one is likely to look for anyone here.
She never stops.
In the dark foyer, clear plastic hangs from the ceiling in large sheets dividing up projects and hanging over items that need to be protected. At the end of the hall I turn to face her. Even as my bare feet slide in the drywall dust that coats the flooring, my mouth parting to scream all the things I wanted to from the moment we met.
I want to yell.
But I can’t. Not when Kylie grabs me by my shoulders and shoves me with all her strength into an open closet door. Brooms, mops, and other cleaning supplies clatter around me as my back smacks hard into the wall. A handle slaps across my mouth, pouring a metallic taste over my tongue.
The door closes into darkness. In the silence, I hear something slide against the frame. A single sliver of light cuts into the blackness from the bottom of the door.
“Enjoy the party,” Kylie sneers loudly before the sound of her steps fade.
And then she’s gone.
I try to move in the dark but I can’t make anything out. Smooth wall skims my fingertips. Feeling for the knob, I get a hold of it. It turns with ease but when I push, it doesn't move an inch.
My breath catches.
Long broom handles and other materials that I’m not quite sure what they are, are jostling around me. Unidentifiable items crunch under my feet. It’s so cramped inside here that everything is touching me, bouncing off of me, rubbing up against me. It’s an attack of sensations.
It's too much.
I squeeze my eyes shut as my breathing becomes panting. The dark room feels like it’s spinning around me and closing in all at the same time.
I’m there again.
I'm there in that shower room again.
Everything in the closet becomes a messy touch of a stranger’s rough hands.
I can't– I can't breathe.
There's no air in here.
I’m shrieking before I even realize the noise has left my trembling body.
My limbs flail around me, only bouncing the items off the wall back at me again when I do. With as much strength as I can summon I kick at the door.
Please. Please get me out of here.
I can’t do the darkness. I can’t do small spaces. That irrational fear never fades. It only grows. I used to be so sure that I would outgrow the nightmare, but somehow it only gets worse the older I get.
One dark night or one terrible moment will take me back. I’m in that shower room thrashing with all my might. I can still feel the rub of the hairy arm against my back, then all down my body. The fabric shredding and pulling away from my skin as I surged away.
My voice breaks, then strains. All of my weight carries me in one violent moment.
Then the door gives way beneath my shoulder. It sends me sprawling on the dusty floor. I catch myself with my face, instantly tasting more blood. I lie there for a second. Each gasp for air is a fragile thing that if I try to consciously slow only turns into uncontrollable sobs and wheezing.
So instead, I don’t move. Even as blood pools from my lip. The heavy thump of the bass eventually becomes a distant noise that’s faster than my breathing.
