Page 55 of Injustice and Absolution

As I walk to the front counter to cash out the register, I take out my phone and see I missed a text from Drew that he sent about twenty minutes ago.

Leaving my house now. Can’t wait to see you.

He has the night off. He dropped me off earlier today before going back to his place. He said he had a few things to take care of at the club, but that he’d be back to pick me up since we’re staying at my place tonight.

The forty-five-minute drive from Harrisburg to Gettysburg is a bit of a haul for as often as he makes it. I told him I felt bad that he’s driving back and forth so much, but he said it’s a small price he’ll happily pay if it means he gets to see me. Plus, my old piece of junk car isn’t likely to make the trip as often.

I’d been trying to save for a new one when I moved out, but my measly savings went to my first and last month’s rent plus a security deposit.

Can’t wait either. See you soon.

Sending my response, I place my phone on the counter and run tonight’s closing report to find out how much money I need to deposit at the bank. As it prints, I’m startled by a crash in the storeroom. One that’s loud enough to echo through the empty store.

Frozen in place, I listen to the hair-raising sound of footsteps coming closer to me. Before I have a chance to move, I see two masked figures emerge from the back.

One of them is enormous in size, both tall and wide, and he’s wielding a large knife. The other is tall and lanky. Those are the only details I can gather before they flick the switch on the wall next to them, blanketing the store in darkness.

Through my paralyzing terror, I’m somehow able to get my feet moving. I run toward the store’s locked front door as I hear a deep voice growl, “Grab her.”

When the door is just out of reach, I’m stopped by a painful tug of my hair. I try to scream, but my voice gets lodged in my throat. The larger of the two intruders circles my neck with his solid forearm, dragging me behind the counter and onto the floor as I try to fight my way out of his grasp.

“You enjoy your prize,” the other intruder instructs. “I’ll get the money.”

I watch as an evil smile spreads across my silent attacker’s face, matching the wicked gleam in his eye. With a twitch of his head, his neck cracks loudly, echoing through the store like gunfire. A tear breaks free while I continue to struggle beneath him as feelings of helplessness that used to plague my past converge with this reality.

Suddenly, I’m back in my bedroom in the trailer. My attacker’s face morphs into my father’s, and I can feel the fight leave my body.

“No...” I cry out weakly as he brandishes the knife in front of my face.

I thought I’d become a much stronger person in the past five years. Someone who’s built their worth up from nothing. A woman hell-bent on making something of myself.

Right now, I have no idea where that person is.

Did I imagine her?

Did I delude myself into thinking I could be anyone other than the weak little girl I’ve always been?

The one who attracts nothing but crushing pain, paralyzing fear, and gut-wrenching heartache.

With his knife, the man cuts my shirt in half, exposing my heaving chest to him. Menacingly, he runs the blade across the lace of my bra before slicing through each strap, causing the cups to sag.

Placing the knife beside my head, he tugs the material of my bra down, exposing my chest to him. My eyes leave his, unable to face his scrutinizing stare. I focus on the other intruder who has emptied the first cash register and moved to the next.

My phone is up there. So close yet so far away from me. If I could just reach it, I could call Drew...

Or Royce...

But what good would that do? It's not like either of them would get here in time.

I close my eyes while my attacker pinches one of my nipples roughly between his fingers as he sucks the other into his mouth. His free hand dives between my legs, haphazardly rubbing me over my jeans.

The second my eyes shift to the forgotten weapon, the other man slams the register closed, startling me.

When he looks down and realizes my intent to reach for the knife, he kicks it away from me and steps on my hand.

“Not so fast, you little whore.” Crouching down, he spits on me, his vile wetness landing on my breast just above my attacker’s hand.

I cry out, due more to how dirty and worthless he just made me feel by spitting on me than because of the pressure of his shoe on my hand. But my sob is strangled when the one with my nipple in his mouth clamps down with his teeth before letting it go again.

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