The sound he'd heard was sobbing. When he reached the room he knew for sure – it was the girl sobbing. He peeked around the corner, but the room was...in total darkness. Moans interspersed the sobbing. The girl must be stone cold and stiff from her static position. He could still smell the acrid urine, laced with the sickly-sweet stench of her enemas. He returned to the bedroom, closing the mirror-door silently. He rubbed the goose bumps on his arms, wondering why he didn't feel relieved. He. It was all rape, of course, from the moment he first walked into my room. But he always just used my mouth or my hands… or so I thought. But now I remember. I don’t remember it happening, but one of the last nights before I went back to school, at the end of Christmas break, I think he did more. I woke up later, in pain, thinking my period must be starting early. I used the bathroom and felt the urge to touch myself. Back under the covers, I rubbed myself, thinking of some of the boys I had. More

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