allison was smoking a much needed cigarette, lounging by a window in worn-out greying lingerie.
i asked her, "did he hurt you?"
she kind of snickered but her face realigned quickly. "not as much as you'd think."
i was wearing blue lingerie, standing in a room with others. joe was watching me, mouth unmoving. someone gave me cat ears. my hair was long and blonde and straw-like. bill leaned into a door frame watching through a mirror as i was prepped. he walked over with a small knife and sliced through my bra straps; my breasts stayed suspended and i was impressed.
"you ready?"
"sure."
he walked me through a door and the light was gone.
my mother's basement was filthy and so was he. his hair was loose and greased. his wife beater had coffee rings, sweat stains, and other flecks of color i imagined were bodily fluids confettied across the room. i stood unmoving, hands clasped in front of my panties, suddenly modest.
he threw a text book tome onto the floor and lowered a series of wires from the rafters. he motioned me forward.
i stood tip-toed on the book as bill delicately wrapped the wire noose around my neck. he stepped back and admired his work. i thought of all the years of ballet my mother paid for and i couldn't unclumsy my relevé.
his face was close to mine. he stuck out his tongue thick with plaque and saliva and as he ran it along the length of my face, i stuck out my tongue to taste him.
he smiled but he wasn't happy. his face distorted into a hurricane of annoyance, hatred and utter impatience.
i thought of every rape and sex slave fantasy i'd ever toyed with and quickly felt the fool.
i squeezed my eyes tight and then came the light.
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