He leaves after that; he knows it’s too soon to touch me again; he knows I’m still fresh enough to do something about it. A few more encounters like that night, though, a few too many meetings… Will I revert back? Will I become the same girl I was, or will I go to the police, like I always threatened?
The real question is, what does he think I’ll do? Clearly he knows he’s still my weakness.
I’m up all night; there’s no way I can sleep now. Instead, I snort blow. It’s like the ultimate dose of caffeine; on coke, I don’t need to sleep. I overdo it a little, but not dangerously. I get the shakes. I pace my room. I cry a lot. I glance at the clock, over and over again, watching the seconds tick by. It takes so long. Finally it’s seven, then eight, then nine. I wonder how early I can cancel.
