Dawn (Cutler 1)

I closed my eyes to try to deny this was happening. Once I had dreamt of him holding me and loving me, but this was twisted and harsh. My poor confused body responded to his caresses—stirred in places it had not been stirred before, but my mind screamed No! I felt like someone sinking into warm, soothing quicksand. For a few seconds it felt good, but it promised only trouble.

I continued to twist and squirm under his pincerlike fingers. The tip of his tongue drew a line from one breast to another and then he began to lower his body, kissing his way down my stomach until he reached the towel that was barely around my waist. I held it in the tip of my fingers. He bit the towel and tugged at it like a mad dog.

"Philip, stop, please," I pleaded.

With one strong pull, he drew the towel away from my body and dropped it at my feet. Then he gazed up at me, his eyes mad with desire. The glint in them was enough to set my heart racing even faster and pounding even harder than it already was.

Unable to get around him because he trapped against the wall, I brought my hands to my face as soon as he released my arms to embrace my thighs and draw them to his face. I felt my legs crumble and slid down the wall to the floor, my face covered.

"Dawn," said, his breathing heavy and hard. “It feels so good holding you. We don't have think about anything else."

All I could do was cry as his hands moved over my body, exploring, caressing.

"Doesn't this feel good? Aren't you happy?” he whispered. I took my hands off my face when he took his hands from me and started unbuttoning his jeans.

It sent an electric bolt of fear up my spine. With all my strength, I tried pushing him away so I could drive him back enough for me to lunge for the door to make a quick exit. But he seized my wrist and turned them until I was on my back on the wooden floor.

"Philip!" I cried. "Stop before it's too late."

In one swift motion he slipped himself between my legs.

"Dawn . . . don't be so frightened. I can’t help wanting to be with you. I thought I could try, but you’re too pretty. It doesn't have to mean anything,' he said gasping his words.

I clenched, my hands into small fists and tried to pummel his head, but it was like a small bird slapping its wings against the snoot of a fox. He didn’t even acknowledge it; instead, he moved himself comfortably against me, his lips catching the soft flesh of my breast between them and nibbling his way over my bosom.

Suddenly I felt his hardness press itself firmly against me until he forced in that swollen, rigid male sex part of him that had to be satisfied. It drove into my tight and resisting flesh, which tore and bled.

I screamed, not caring anymore if we were discovered and if Jimmy were found. The shock of feeling him inside me drove away any concern for anything but my own violated being. My piercing screech was enough to cause his retreat.

"All right," he pleaded. "Stop. I'll stop." He drew back and stood up, quickly pulling up his underwear and pants and buckling his belt. I turned over on my stomach and cried into my arms, my body shaking.

"Wasn't it good for you?" he asked softly, kneeling beside me. I felt his palm on my lower back. "At least now you have an idea of what it will be like."

"Go away. Leave me alone, Philip. Please!" I cried through my tears.

"It's just the shock of it all," he said. "All girls have the same reaction." He stood up. "It's all right," he repeated, more to convince himself, it seemed, than to convince me.

"Dawn," he whispered. "Don't hate me for wanting you."

"Just leave me alone, Philip," I demanded in a much sterner tone. There was another long pause and then I heard him open the bathroom door and leave.

I turned over to be sure he was gone. This time I made sure the door was locked. Then I gazed down at myself. There were red blotches over my breasts and stomach where he had nibbled and sucked on me. I shuddered. His violation of me, although short, left me feeling unclean. The only way I could stop myself from sobbing was to step into the shower and let the now hot water run over my body, practically scalding my flesh. I endured the heat, feeling it was cleansing me and washing away the memory of Phillip’s fingers and kisses. I scrubbed myself with such intensity, I brought new red blotches, making my skin scream with pain. All during my shower my tears mixed in with the water, seeming to fall as freely. What had once held the promise of romantic ecstasy and wonder had now turned sordid and depraved. I scrubbed and scrubbed.

Finally exhausted from the effort to wash away what had just happened, I stepped out of the shower and dried myself. I returned to my bedroom and feeling more tired than I could ever remember, lay down. I couldn’t cry anymore. I closed my eyes and fell asleep, awakening when I heard a gentle rapping at my door.

He’s returned, I thought, my heart racing again. I decided to remain still and see if he would believe I was already gone. The knocking got louder, and then I heard, “Dawn?”

It was my father. Had Phillip upset about my rebuffing him gone to him and told him about Jimmy? I got up slowly, my arms and legs as sore as would be had I been working out in a farm field all day. I put on my robe and opened the door.

“Hi,” he said. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

“I’m . . .” I wanted to tell him all of it, wanted to shout it out as a way of getting rid of the memory. I wanted to scream about all my violations, this sexual one being the most recent. I wanted to demand retribution, demand love and concern, demand to be treated like human being at least, if not a member of the family. But I could only look down and shake my head.

"I'm very tired," I said.

"Oh. I’ll see about getting you a day off."

"Thank you."