Someone
was climbing the stairs. She could tell because of the creaking of
the tired old wooden treads. The person ascending the stairs seemed somewhat
hesitant, like he was trying to put down as little weight as possible with each
step. Her husband Paul was thoughtful that way when he came home late at night.
Normally, she could recognize his footsteps as he climbed the stairs to their
bedroom, but tonight, because she was groggy from her migraine medicine, she
couldn’t tell if it was Paul or not. But if the footsteps weren’t his, whose were
they?
She had gone to bed around
8:30. She wondered how long she’d slept, but she couldn’t tell if she had
awakened late at night or early in the morning. She felt like she had been
asleep several hours. She believed she’d heard noises, which must have wakened
her, but maybe she had just been dreaming.
The dim figure of a man
appeared in the bedroom doorway. She couldn’t see who it was, because she was
lying on her stomach and couldn’t get a good look. Was it . . ? Surely he
wouldn’t come in the middle of the night. The risk would be too great.
The figure came to the side of
the bed.
“Paul?” she muttered. There
was no answer.
Before she could turn over a
hand clamped tightly over her mouth.
Another hand began to grope
her body. She started to protest, but her head was roughly yanked around and
duct tape was stuck over her lips. She wondered if she should try to scream.
Was Paul playing some kind of weird game with her? They’d talked about spicing
their sex life up with some role-playing, but she had never contemplated doing
anything like what was happening now.
What was happening she wondered as she was rolled roughly onto her back?
A cloth bag, which smelled like an old flour bag, was pulled over her head and
tied in a knot at her throat. Her hands were tied to the bed posts. She started
to kick her feet a little to protest, but they too were quickly tied to the
bed.
It sounded like something
heavy was dropped to the floor. Then her nightgown was ripped open - with a
knife? She couldn’t tell. She suddenly felt very vulnerable. She was starting
to feel very afraid.
One hand continued to grope
her body. She tried to remember if her husband’s hands felt like the hands
touching her. Why couldn’t she remember? Her migraine medicine made her so
groggy.
She heard what sounded like someone undressing then thought she heard clothing dropped to the floor. She waited to feel her husband slide into the bed beside her. But next thing she felt was the man mounting her, roughly pushing between her legs, forcibly entering her and hurting her. She realized she was being raped. She arched her back and bucked in protest straining to break loose of her bonds. But she was not able to free herself and she could not rid herself of whoever was on top of her.
After a few moments of
frenzied thrusting and heavy breathing an ecstatic moan escaped the man’s lips
and he dropped down on her heavy and sweaty. She thought he did not smell like
her husband. But did she recognize his smell?
Then his hands were at her
throat and she began to experience difficulty breathing.
“Bitch!” the man cried out.
After awhile she couldn’t breathe anymore.
If she felt the knife plunge
into her heart it was too late. She never knew when her attacker rolled off
her, never heard him get dressed, never heard the whoosh of the fire he set as
it began to consume her bedroom, never heard her attacker run down the stairs
and out the back door.
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