I stumble up the first flight of stairs to my room and gasp in the cold autumn air as I steady myself on the rusted and dilapidated railing. My body slumps as I revisit the evening passed – music fills my mind and a sense of warmth and comfort courses through me amidst a lingering smell of oak, spilt vodka and the damps rags that hung so carelessly off the barback. I snap back to attention as shouts from partygoers below refocus me on the task at hand. My keys slip into the lock and I burst through the door, sliding to the ground within the confines of my sparse room. I sit on the ground taking in the shadowy depths and silently thank the universe that once again, I am safe and alone. This feeling of comfort is short-lived as panic settles through me, resting heavily on my chest for safety is never guaranteed. My eyes comb through the darkened room – the leopard print futon, the books piled neatly in stacks on the floor and the door that leads to the other. I pray that I have not disturbed my roommate; a thought, which fills me with further apprehension and a sharp stab of fear. I shiver, running my hand through my long blond hair as if to secure me to this physical space. As I stare into the darkness, I reflect on my move to this temporary room, a chaotic experience dominated by this new roommate, an athletic and handsome figure but with piercing eyes that roam my small figure and hands that try. I breathe deeply and try to force reason into my mind all the while half expecting him to burst through and make himself at home amongst my sparse belongings. I push these thoughts from my mind and stumble to the leopard futon, fling my shoes off and shed my red dress. My eyes begin to close in their drunken stupor while I attempt for normalcy in my broken world.

I sleep but no dreams come. My eyes flutter as I regain consciousness, awakened by a fog settling within my mind, my pulse quickening in my ears. My hands are blacked as I rub my make-up encrusted eyes and try to reorient myself: What happened last night? Where am I? A sense of calm enters me as I realize that I am in my room, which is followed by the feeling that I am not alone. I look down at my body and take-in the hand that is so gently wrapped around my waist. My back senses the pressure of a body clinging gently to mine. My chest pounds as my mind tries to catch up – what is the narrative of how this could be. I look down at the arm, it is dark and muscled with the silver bracelet of my roommate hanging ever so slightly off the wrist. The wrist that grasps my soft belly and absently caressed the butterfly ring that adorns my navel, which is exposed from my undressed haste of the night prior. The hand is gentle and smooth, which seems strange as my roommate’s stance has always been aggressive; yet, the fact that he is here, in my personal space does not give me pause. I take a deep breath and for just one moment, I enjoy the act of being held by another as his shallow breaths graze my neck.

I struggle through the haze shrouding my mind and hang on to rational thought; an act, which causes my body to tense with dread and repulsion.  I acutely feel the fibers of the futon under my skin as a sharp pang fills my stomach. Panic. I move my arms ever slow slightly as to not wake my intruder, but the movements of my body cause him to clasp down harder on my stomach and press his body closer to mine. His erection grows alone my bare spine as does my need for flight. My voice finds roots and proclaims, “I need to go”, but I receive only the response of his hips gently rocking my body, increasing in rhythm, his muscled form keeping me locked into place. Instinctually, my body goes stiff and my mind blank. I focus on a beam of sunlight peeking through the window, dust swirling in its path to the external world. Thought of the outside leads me to upset the calm with struggle. I strain to sit up, but a hand holds me down as another rips the cloth off my now exposed loins. I take a deep breath as my roommate forces open my legs with his palm and I wait in anticipation knowing what is to arise. I have acceptance of the acts to come.

His length touches my lips and struggles against my opening as I am dry with fear. It forces itself past as his hands clutch my chest and rip at my neck. I realize that the animals have come out to play, humanity is gone. I lie still in hopes that I will experience some pleasure as the pain of his prodding length is insufferable. I reach to touch myself as a means of escape, but he grasps my hand and locks it within his own. I examine this hand, the fingernails neatly clipped, the lavender that penetrates my nostrils. I try to back up into him, hoping that my perceived desire will lead to his ecstasy. Instead, I feel my head get kneaded into the musty futon as he flips me over, totally dominating my person, totally dominating my sex. His ministrations cause me to yelp as I feel him increase his pace. When I think I will surely die, I feel him explode inside of me as he loosens his grip on my shoulder and back. His touch leaves my body as though leaving welts and bruises; although, I cannot see them as these harms may only be to my mind. He stands in a shadow, his length level with my face but I cannot look at him. My shame blinds me to the current scene. I hear the door creak on its hinge and in a return to reality, he speaks, “You had better get up, you are going to be late for work”. He leaves. I look at the cartesian elements of my room, the straight lines where ceiling meets wall, where wall meets floor and reason, “you will be okay – it is just another day in the life”.