35

I wake up face down on the floor in a heap, arm draped awkwardly over my head and limbs splayed out on the hardwood, disorientated, choking on my own blood, and gagging on bile. Gathering my wits and trying to get my bearings, I struggle to move, dazed for a moment and then I remember where I am, and what he’s doing to me. Like a rush of water flowing back to a dry riverbed when the damn is breached.

That surge of furious self-preservation, instant awareness as the room comes back at me and I jump up, heart tearing through my chest with elevated thuds, claws appearing, mind a burning mess of mad. Ready to take him on in a battle to the death and fueled by something inside of me that I never knew I possessed.