The stranger had offered more, but by this point she was drunk, just as ****d up as her life was. There was no escape. She only of knew this type of affection; her father was an addict that took advantage of her n her kuzn during late-night binges with his junkie friends. He rushed her as she reluctantly gave in to his advances; an all too familiar scenario that plagued her life since she could remember. Her body trembled as he inserted himself into her. His grunts n warm breath, sweat beading off his body onto hers, made her feel sick. Why did she allow herself to fall into this predicament again, she thought to herself. All signs pointed to rape: the drug-infused cocktail, tattered dress, the long, cold blade to her stomach. Still, she somehow felt a calming ease. No one loved her; an orphan by 14; her mother killed by her father during one of his drunken tirades when she was only 7; he had later succumbed to an overdose. No, this time was different however. Her goosebumps led him to believe she was enjoying this; her tears showed otherwise. Fear overtook her, as her silent shrieks of terror echoed through her psyche. It would all be over soon, the rape, this night, her agony. It would all be over soon.
Her mutilated body was found the next morning, slashed n dismembered. Another victim.
