Steam

Even when You're Unconscious You Know the Truth

The hand wasn’t soft and small like Catalina’s, the fingers were large and hard, the skin was callused. I knew even before this person said my name that they were a man. “Rosalie,” he breathed, with a Spanish accent, the faint smell of whiskey seemed to melt the curtains that masked the intruders face. I pulled away and flung myself against the hard linoleum wall, my wet back making loud contact with the cool dry surface. I had nowhere to go.

I slid down to the bottom of the tub and looked up at the steam, as it disappeared into the ceiling, closing its eyes. I dropped my head to my knees hugging myself closely as shower curtain came hurdling towards me. The long metal pole that gave me privacy once before now slammed into the back of my head, and for a minute I saw who he was. I forced myself into unconsciousness. My eyes were wide open but I didn’t let myself feel him grab a hold of my naked flesh.

Those big rough hands dug into my wet skin. The nails embedded into my back, thirsting for blood. It didn’t register when he dragged me out of the bathtub, his strong menacing arms hidden underneath my breasts. I jolted awake when my arm slammed violently into the last of the bathroom’s wall. He dragged me across the rough carpeting. My moist heels attracted lint and debris from the floor. He slammed open a door that I indentified as my bedroom. He threw me onto my bed, I was sprawled completely nude and vulnerable in front of this man, and how I wished he was a stranger.

There was a picture of Catalina and me kissing, on the coffee table near my bed. He saw me looking at it and he picked it up with a burst of anger and through it against the wall. Glass sprang at both me and him violently. I tried to shield myself from his outburst, but he held my limbs down so the glass would fall on my body. He pressed the small fragments into my skin; I let out an exasperated moan. Blood tricked down my chest, leaving free-formed stains on my sheets. He slapped me across my face, and at this moment I thought he’d kill me. Instead, he started to undress his clothes, ripping, clawing at them like an animal.