Her screams, muffled by the hand wrapped around her face, were useless. Even if someone could hear her, she knew no one would rush to help. Eyes closed, throat sore, she continued to scream.

His right hand, large and immensely powerful, gripped tightly against her jaw. His left arm straddled her chest, pinning her to the slowly rocking bed. Beads of sweat fell from his brow onto her reddened face, causing her to wince in agony. More muffled screams went unheard.

The bed stopped rocking.

“That’s a good girl. You stay quiet,” he laughed. “Now, you don’t tell no one ’bout this, or you’ll be sorry.”

He leaned in close, and spoke softly in her ear. “I’ma get off you now, only if you promise to stay quiet.” He paused. “You promise?”

She nodded, and he slowly released his grip on her face. She remained quiet as he grabbed his suitcase and walked out of her room. That was the last time she saw him…

Until today, 15 years later…

With a sharp twist of the knife, she killed her father, and all her memories of him.