A Starr is Born

After my neck is raped, I run upstairs as quickly as I can, not paying any mind to the idea that someone might follow me. I can’t hear him laughing, but I’m also not listening for it. I get to my room and slam it shut behind me. I press my back against the door, as if that would stop any intruders. The only thing I can hear is my own heavy breathing and the beating of my heart, which is going a mile a minute.



I turn to the door to lock it and realize, as I turn, that it’s daft of me to think he hasn’t stripped my lock. To my surprise, there is a lock, so I lock the door, and slam my back against it again. I try to quiet my breathing and calm down. This comes easily as compared to my thoughts, which I also try to quiet, but cannot.



I slide down the door, confused, and land on the floor. My legs unfurl and my arms go limp, and I stare at the wall directly opposite. I always fancied myself strong, resilient, uncompromising, but I’m wondering if I’m just truly the loser I appear to be, just a douche bag who works fast food and gets herself kidnapped by the most wanted criminal in the city. And now here I am, completely helpless, no agency whatsoever, my plot for my grand escape foiled easily.



I rest my head against the door and close my eyes, exhausted. I’m about to fall asleep again, when my eyes shoot open. I hear something, but I’m not sure if it’s footsteps because the floor is carpeted, but I hear subtle creaking in the house, as if someone is sneaking up the stairs.



I turn back to face the door, still on the floor. I can’t say I hear anything, but I can say I sense some type of presence, and whatever it is, it’s getting closer. I press my ear against the door, and the silence that follows is deadly.



It had to have been a figment of my imagination, I hope, desperately. When I get paranoid, I create things. There was a summer where I had to sleep with the lights on because I had been watching too many ghost shows and I was convinced my room was haunted, but then I realized it probably wasn’t haunted, but I was creating things because-



KNOCK, KNOCK!



I jump back from the door, yelping. I cup my hands over my mouth, and scoot myself over to the opposite wall as quickly as I can and stare in horror at the door opposite me.



KNOCK, KNOCK.



I see the gentle vibrations in the door. Silence, again.



“Auburn?” The voice behind beckons, almost sing-songily.



My heart beats a mile a minute. I can hear his fingers tracing across the door and landing on the knob. It turns, but stops, and he fumbles with it a little more before he lets go.



“Auburn? Why is the door locked? It makes me think you don’t want to see me. That’s no way to treat your generous host.” He laughs because I guess he thinks he’s so god damn funny.



“Well, Auburn, I guess you just want to be left alone, so I’ll just leave you alone. Good night,” and I can hear the footsteps fade into the background.



And that’s that?



Before I can relax, however, the door bursts open in front of me, breaking from it’s hinges, and there he stands, having just kicked it over, bracing himself on the torn edges of the doorframe.



I cower against the wall, and he spots me immediately.



“Auburn, what are you doing sleeping on the floor? There’s a bed right there.” He laughs and comes striding toward me.



I hug my knees into my chest, thinking that’s what one’s supposed to do when a predator is coming after you.



He leers over me, and smiles, crookedly.



“I’ll show you where the bed is,” and he scoops me up, easily, like a budding bride, and places me on the bed. He puts himself on top of me, trapping me on either side with both of him arms.



“You know what?” He takes his hand, and places it around my throat, restraining me, and holding me still to face him, “I want to get laid tonight,” and he goes in for the kiss, but before he can, I knee him the groin. Momentarily distracted, I push his weight off myself , and he collapses on the side, laughing like a maniac. I go to book it, but he grabs onto my ankle, and I fall off the side of the bed onto my stomach.



He sits on top of my ass, straddling me, and I’m useless. His body weight is overbearing, and my legs are in an impossible angle to go for his useless cock again. He pins my shoulders against the floor and says, “You’ve got spirit in you. I like that.”



With that, he rips open the back of my dress, exposing my bare back to him. He lets go of my shoulders, and I can hear him sliding a glove off his hand.



“But you’re going to have to learn who’s boss here,” he throws the glove to one side of my face and starts to remove the next, “and something tells me you like it because you keep on getting yourself into trouble. “ He tosses the other glove to my side.



“Please,” I beg, “Don’t hurt me.”



Apparently, he found that one really funny.



“Oh, don’t worry. You’re going to like this…a lot.”



Before I can respond, his fingernails land on top of my shoulders and begin digging into my flesh as he runs them down my back, slowly, taking his time to rip my skin.



I bite into the rug, trying to repress my scream because I know he wants to hear it. I can feel his fingernails tearing and my flesh burning from his touch. He goes all the way down to my lower back, where I’m about to rip the entire carpet off the floor. Then, he finally releases. I think I feel streams of blood oozing from the wounds he’s just created.



He pulls me back by my hair, my back arching making my wounds burn like fire. He growls into my ear, “And this is what you get when you try to escape. Good night, Auburn,” and he slams my head into the floor.



All is black.