I’m ripped out of my fantasy by loud, strained grunts behind me, his movements becoming even rougher, if that is even possible, as he empties himself inside me.
He pulls out of me quickly, causing me to whimper in pain. He zips himself back up and leans over me, his mouth next to my ear. “You were so good, darlin’, you be a good girl and don’t mention this to daddy. Remember, I know where you live now, I won’t hesitate to come back here for round two.” He slaps me on my ass and leaves the room, the door shutting softly behind him. His footsteps fade as he makes his way down the stairs, the front door clicking shut.
I collapse onto my side in the center of the bed, curling my knees up against my chin, a sharp twinge between my legs, making me yelp. His release seeps from between my thighs and pools on my sheets underneath me, no doubt a little blood too, but I can’t move.
I lie there, silently crying into my pillow. I try to wrap my head around what has just happened. It plays over and over in my head like a movie on repeat, the sound of his grunts looping like a broken record, the frequent blows of his hips slapping against my thighs that I can still feel on my skin as if it were still happening.
I put my hands over my ears and scream into my pillow until my throat dries up and the sound dies out.
I lie in the same position for what feels like hours, by the time I muster the courage to get up, it’s dark outside. I crawl out of bed and glance at the small red stain in the middle of my sheets. I strip the bed and toss the ruined sheets to the floor.
I shakily make my way out of my room. I still when I reach the landing, listening out for any movement. Silence. I pad my way silently into the bathroom, wobbling on my unsteady legs that threaten to give way and run a bath. I peel off my dress and stand in front of the mirror. My eyes zero in on the purple bruises that mark my thighs and hips. I finger them lightly and wince. My eyes are red and puffy, I look like I haven’t slept in weeks.
I turn off the taps and sink into the water that all about scolds my skin. I lie back, resting against the cool tiles behind me. I glance down my body to where the area of water between my legs is turning pink. My shaky hands move down and reach between my legs, I touch the skin gingerly and instantly regret it. A sharp twinge of soreness radiates through my body.
I grab my loofa and scrub until I’m red raw, wanting to rid myself of any trace of that man from my skin, cleaning between my legs carefully.
I lie in the water until it turns cold, until my fingers and toes wrinkle. When I eventually pull myself out of the bath, I wrap my bathrobe around myself and head back into my room. I freeze when I see the bed.
I can’t sleep in that bed ever again. I can’t, and I won’t. I rip my pillows and the covers off my bed and create a makeshift sleeping bag on the floor.
The front door opens and closes signaling my mom’s arrival home from work. I hear faint voices from downstairs. I lie there and try to focus on my parents’ voices, on the ticking of the clock, the music that plays on my radio…
Anything to dull the noise in my head. Anything to keep the memories from playing in my head. Anything that will help me forget.
Chapter 37
Hayley
“Oh my God.” My dad covers his mouth with his hands, staring forward, deep in thought, deep in shock.
I sit next to him, picking at the skin around my fingernails anxiously. “I’m sorry I kept it from you for so long. I was going to tell you what happened, but then mom died, and I couldn’t…” I begin to cry again, my face in my hands.
My dad’s arms wrap around me, holding me, rocking me back and forth gently. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea. I shouldn’t have allowed that man into our home, that stranger.”
“Dad, it’s not your fault. You can’t blame yourself for what happened, you couldn’t have known what was going to happen.”
“I’m your dad, it’s supposed to be my fault.” He rests his chin on the top of my head. He sighs deeply. “Did you report it?”
I shake my head. “No. He scared me into keeping quiet, said that he’d come back if I said anything. Looking back I should have gone to the police, but I…”
“It’s alright, it's okay,” he reassures. He opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something but closes it again, struggling to find the words. After a moment, he clears his throat. “Um… did you, you know… get pregnant?”
“God, no. A few weeks after it happened, I got in to see the doctor for a check-up. Everything was fine.”
“Okay, good.” Relief seeps through his voice. “So, where does Kyle fit into all this?”
“He was adopted when he was a baby, his mother killed herself when he was only three months old. It happened to her too, I guess she couldn’t handle what had happened to her anymore.” I take a deep breath. “The man that raped his mother… was Nicholas Payn, his real father.”
My dad’s face looks at me in horror. “What?”
I nod, regretfully. “Kyle knew all along, that Nicholas was his father, and he never told me. I found out from his dad earlier and confronted him about
