I heard his body clumsily slam into the wall in the hallway, and I knew that he was especially drunk tonight. My limbs were shivering as I silently mouth the words, “Please pass out” over and over. The precious nights when his drunken stupor rendered him unable to function were my only reprieves from his attacks.

The doorknob to my room slowly turned. I wished for the millionth time that it locked from the inside, though I knew that even if it did, it probably wouldn’t stop him for long. He flung the door wide open and stood at the threshold for a while, relishing his glee at what he was about to do and the extreme terror and horror it would cause me.

As he stumbled towards my bed, I heard his heavy breaths. He was a mouth-breather—a big, dumb, mean, mouth-breathing oaf. I squeezed my eyes firmly closed so I wouldn’t have to look at him or how close he was to my tiny bed.

He stood over me, tall and imposing. I slightly opened one eye to see what he was waiting for, but then quickly squeezed it tightly shut again. I couldn’t bear to look at the half-lidded anticipatory look in his cold, dark, beady eyes. “Take ‘em off, or I’ll rip ‘em off.” He sneered as he said the ugly words to me.

I delicately lifted my hips and slid my panties down my goose-pimply legs. The dread of what I knew was about to happen sat heavily in my belly. Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. He enjoyed making me cry, and I didn’t want to give him any more satisfaction than my unwilling little body was about to be forced into providing.

He made a production of slowly unbuckling his belt and lowering his pants. I was not looking, but I could tell what he was doing by the all-too-familiar sounds.

My first instinct was to yell for my mother. Weren’t moms supposed to protect their little girls from this sort of thing? I knew that mine wouldn’t be any help, though. She would either turn a blind eye to what was happening, or blame me for trying to steal her man.

I couldn't count on my mother for protection. These unspeakable acts had been going on under her roof for many months––she must know. It's not as if our mobile home is spacious or soundproof enough for anything to happen without the rest of the household being aware. She had surely heard him stumbling into my room, and she had chosen not to protect me.