CHAPTER TWELVE
Sarah had stopped trying to push Mr. Smith off her. He was so heavy that even with all her strength, she couldn’t budge his massive bulk.
When he first climbed on top of her, she’d been too frozen with terror to move. But as he squirmed on top of her, fussing with his belt, trying clumsily to undress, her fear had turned to anger.
She had tried to use it to her advantage and shove him off, but he was just too big. Eventually her arms gave out and she lay there, pretending to be somewhere else, letting the last few tears she could muster roll down her cheeks onto the pillow below.
He kept fumbling, and she kept praying that he wouldn’t figure it out.
She focused on her right sneaker, which she could see despite the man’s rotund, pasty flesh blocking out almost everything
