8FeliciaWhen Barinov grabs my thigh, it feels as though five overweight eels are slithering against my skin. His hand is clamped so firmly over my mouth I feel the moisture of his palm squeezing between my lips. I kick out, try to wriggle out from beneath him, but he’s stronger than a fat man ought to be. Please, please, please, I scream. But no, I don’t. Not out loud. I scream but no words emerge from my lips. I scream in my head, willing myself on. But no matter how much I scream, I can’t will myself stronger. I can’t make it so I have enough power to counter this hulking brute. I push harder, my tendons twisting, veins popping against my skin, but nothing happens.
Barinov, giggling like a kid out of a horror movie, slides his hand up my leg, into my dress.
Dimly, as if from a great di
