His rough grip left a bruise. I noticed it forming as I ripped my arm from his hold. Frantically, I slapped out, my palms stinging as they met the boney part of his shoulder. Being several inches shorter and many pounds lighter, it was the only area of his body I could reach. Sobbing at my own vulnerability, I turned to flee.
He laughed, grabbing onto both my hands with his one and stilling them in his vise-like grip. Stepping forward, he pushed me back onto the black velour of the sofa, my back bent in an impossible position. I sank down, head tilted painfully to one side; neck feeling as though it would break.
Trying to wriggle free, I managed to become even more entangled in the fabric of the sofa and my own body. My shirt inched up, exposing my, still tan, belly. Brutally, he plowed his knee into my soft flesh, holding it there, as I struggled for air. Breathing raggedly now, I struggled against his entrapment and the control he had over me. Frustration, as I realized I was, once again, powerless.
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