Chapter 43

He stops at my lower abdomen, and although he leaves his finger there, the floorboards broadcast his methodical movements. I frantically track the sounds as he walks around the perimeter of my bed, my prison. My chest deflates and my body freezes—fear firing anew despite his words promising relief. I feel the bed dip near the end by my feet and the anticipation of what is going to happen is almost as numbing as the fear that is now a constant. His finger never moves, but I can feel it shake, the bed sway, as he adjusts his positioning, it’s ridiculous because I can’t see him, but I swear I can feel his eyes scraping over every inch of me. Observing.