Dreams Could Never Be Escape

The hotel room with the double beds, view of the street. The bed squeaked a little and the sheets were stiff.

In her pink skirt she sways and the lighting is perfect. He has his glass still on (she likes it better that way) and their moves are fluid. A moment is blurred and his hands are there, brushing against her beneath the butterfly wing silk. She gasps. She gasps.and he whispers "shh. he'll hear." That's when reality (but only dream reality) hits. This is the part she remembers. She knows what happens next in the dream. She knows and knows and she panics. She runs.

It's too late.

The door Slams. In agony tears and rough hands her Other comes into the room. Onto the bed. Her bed now. With red sheets and black poles now. He yells "i can't take it anymore" and throws her Portland on the bed. atop her.

She knows what's going on. She's had this dream before. She knows now.

A kick to the bed. Screen jumps. CD skips. It's happening now. happening now.

the rape.

A gun to their heads. the cold biting. He forces it in. She can feel it. She can feel it. It makes him harder. harder. Her Other watches. Sobbing. He slaps her. He's on her. Her mouth. In her. And there are no tears left inside her. There is nothing but them. inside her. She doesn't cry

as they take her. take her. take her.