asleep or ignore his presence like a ghostly specter. I turn to face him, watching as he flicks on the lamp and bathes the room with an eerie glow.
I watch him gaze around, his face sad as he takes in the pink and white polka dot wallpaper, the white gloss furniture, the bed, and the white bedding with tiny pink flowers. It’s a bedroom fit for a princess, something I never aspired to be, but then this room isn’t about me, it’s all about Clyde.
“Hello, pretty girl,” he whispers when his lust-filled eyes finally land on mine. “Daddy has a special night planned for us.”
I don’t answer him. I stare at the handsome face my mother loved. The strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, and twinkling bright blue eyes all add to his appeal, but it’s just a mask to hide the monster beneath. But he’s not the only one wearing a mask, and tonight he’s not the only monster in my bedroom.
He removes his clothes, cufflinks first, popping the silver ovals on my nightstand. His white shirt is next, followed by his suit pants, his shoes, and his socks.
“Clothes off, pretty girl, you know I don’t like to wait,” he scolds lightly.
I sit up and pull my nightshirt over my head without protest, leaving me naked, my panties likely still in his jacket pocket where he shoved them after the first time he visited me tonight.
He smiles, a genuine one that lights up his entire face and makes the bile rush up the back of my throat, but I fight it down.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs, sliding his boxers down to expose his hard length.
I hold my breath as he reaches out to twist a strand of my hair around his finger, my hand slipping under my pillow, my fingers wrapping around the handle of the gun.
See, Clyde is an evil man in the worst sense of the word. He doesn’t just use his body to control mine; he turns my own against me, forcing my pleasure, reveling in my responses to his touch. He doesn’t just make me hate him; he makes me hate myself.
For a long time, I thought it was my fault that I must have wanted it because good girls don’t come when they are being assaulted. That’s what he told me, that it’s not rape when you like it. For the longest time, I believed him until I stumbled across a blog online written by a rape survivor. Her words changed something inside me, made me see that Clyde’s words were just another way of hurting me, raping my mind right along with my body.
Well, it ends today.
“Lay back on the bed, legs spread,” he orders, moving around to the end of the bed.
I do as he asks, moving on autopilot, my hand gripping the gun as he stares at me.
“What’s going to happen to me now?” I ask, wanting to know what his lie will be.
“Hush now, that’s for tomorrow. Tonight is all about pleasure.” He smirks, climbing on the bed, kneeling between my legs.
“I know what you’re planning on doing,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “You won’t get away with it, people will wonder where I am, they’ll ask questions,” I tell him as his large hand slides up my thigh, but we both know that’s not true. Everyone I care about is gone.
“I forget how innocent you are sometimes, especially with a body like this. I’ll tell people you ran away, but I doubt anyone will ask. Nobody will remember you, Vida, you’re a ghost,” he says lightly, as if he’s talking about the weather. I think it might be his tone that snaps the last of my restraint.
“Funny you should say that.” I pull the gun free from the pillow and point it at his head.
His eyes widen a fraction as his hand pauses on my thigh. I let my hate for this man fuel me and pull the trigger with zero hesitation.
My hand shakes, the noise sounding like a bomb that makes my ears feel like they are bleeding.
“I guess this makes us both ghosts now.”
Chapter Two
I kick my feet, my toes just skimming over the dusty ground as the swing moves back and forth, the squeak of the rusty chain sounding far louder than usual in the dark, empty park.
The distant sounds of a couple arguing from somewhere across the trailer park is joined by the sorrowful howl of a dog chained up in someone’s