I rolled onto my side and stuffed my arm under my pillow. My eyes fluttered as I started to fall asleep, but they popped back open at the tiny sound. A door opened down the hallway and then I heard the soft click of it closing. The hairs on my arms stood up like a frightened cat. He was coming to see me. I was exhausted, but there was nothing I could do. All I could do was lie still and pray that it went by fast.

It happened more frequently now that I was older. When I was younger it was maybe once a month, but these days it was quickly becoming our weekly ritual, a sick ritual that I’d gotten to know well over the years.

My bedroom door creaked open and I rolled over onto my back. My full-sized mattress squeaked as his heavy weight joined mine. Cold air rushed over my legs as he casually folded my comforter back. I said nothing and lifted my hips as he pulled my nightshirt up and worked my panties down my legs.

His fingertips brushed the inside of my thighs and tickled my bald private areas. He requested that I always shave my pubic hair. I was probably the only seventeen-year-old girl in school that got waxed weekly.

I opened my legs wider as he positioned himself on top of me. He pushed my hair to the side and leaned down to kiss my cheek as he slowly entered me. I hated the feel of his slimy lips on my face. There was the normal burn of my dry skin against his before my body finally gave in.

It was at that point that I’d mentally zone out. I’d close my eyes and replay the day over in my head. I’d go through any plays I’d missed at practice and check off the list of things I needed to do before practice the next day. I’d think about any upcoming games and the rival teams we were going to play. I’d toss around scores and points and estimate what the points for the next game would be.

Far away, I could hear my headboard bump into the wall in his normal rhythm. In the distance, there was the echo of his hard breathing and faintly I could feel his hot breath against my neck. The music my mattress made under us was a song I’d memorized. It always started out as a slow tune that quickened as the minutes went by until finally he’d sing and the mattress became quiet.

He pulled out of me and cold air filled my emptiness. He ran his hand down my leg as he tugged my nightshirt back down. Then I felt his lips brush my forehead.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered against my skin.

“Goodnight,” I rasped.

I lay there for an hour before sleep finally took me away. Only when I was asleep was I able to really breathe. Only in the unconscious moments of my deep dreams was I able to open myself up and allow relaxation to truly seep into me. Sometimes, I secretly prayed for an eternal sleep—one where there is no pain and he didn’t exist.

The next morning I got up early enough to take a long shower. The hot water washed away the night before as I scrubbed my body raw. My skin was pink and lined with scratches from my loofah. I could never get clean enough. For years, I’d tried to clean myself, but somehow I was still so dirty. I could remember begging my mom for baths when I was nine. She used to laugh and tell her friends I was the cleanest child she knew. If only she knew how soiled I really was.

I washed my hair twice before finally getting out, brushing my teeth, and then getting dressed for school. I skipped breakfast so I could avoid the kitchen and waited on the front porch for my ride. I had a car, but he bought it for me. I’d rather walk to school than go near the gray, four-door Toyota. Instead, I pretended I was afraid to drive and hitched a ride with my best friend, Megan.

Her white Honda Civic jerked as she pulled into my driveway. Why her parents bought her a stick shift, I’d never know.

“Hey, rock star! Nice goal yesterday,” she said as I hopped into the warmth of her car.

“Thanks. We’re going to kick ass this weekend,” I said proudly.

I set my book bag on the floorboard between my feet and pushed my snowy hair from my face. Megan looked over at me with big, brown, puppy dog eyes and I knew she was going to ask me for something I didn’t want to give up. She picked at her short, black pixie hair, and then popped her gum.

“Okay, so I know you don’t usually do the party scene, but there’s a bangin’ party going down this weekend at The Pit. I can get us in since my sister used to sleep with the guy that watches the door. He’s like forty or something and Melanie was our age when it happened. We have to go, Pay. Please say you’ll go. Blow Hole’s playing and you know I got a thing for Chet.” She applied lip gloss, and then rubbed her lips together.

A car honked at us when she went into the other lane. She paid attention to everything but the road. I dug my fingers into the dash.