Death at Dawn

The man came down upon Pamela hard, forcing her into the mattress forcing his weight upon her hips down and in though she could not see his face she thought she knew who he was and why he was doing this and why she was doing this with him and then he thrust and again and again hard without thought or love or even sex but to hurt and maim as an animal might in the midst of battle when two males meet and a decision is inevitable. She could feel his breath against her left cheek, hot, hotter than she had ever known a man’s breath to be, almost burning but still she could not see his face. She thought she knew his name but was not sure as she brought her legs up, a desperate prayer to the one above that went unanswered. The bed itself seemed to float as if a water bed yet not like that and there was a light in the air though it was night and the smell of lilies. He never tired and she could feel her body giving out, melting away with his heat and force until there was nothing left. Suddenly the weight was gone and she realized it was dark, darker than she had ever known darker than night or the dancing dark when she closed her eyes or her closet with the door shut and she heard a low, throaty animal-like growl from off to her left and she knew it was coming for her. She felt herself screaming