No Love For The Villain - vanish into fiction

How tall she had grown, which flowers she had learned the names of, how many drawings of her father she had made—she wanted to say it all.

But there was too much, and she couldn’t say anything. The words that had piled up over the years her father hadn’t returned all tried to rush out at once, choking her.

The sorrow of not being able to say everything weighed on her. When she opened her eyes, the window outside was still dim. The voice that once called, “Sierra,” was gone. With her cheeks damp, she sat blankly in the room where the dream had left her behind.

Creak—

The sound of the door opening shattered the fragile remains of the dream she wanted to hold on to. In the dark room, a hazy silhouette swayed ominously. Someone was approaching the bed.

The hand that reached out smelled of soap. Daniel’s hands always carried that sharp, stinging scent of soap. Ever since he was young, he’d been frail, and Mrs. Miles had taught him to wash his hands thoroughly.

Overwashed and cracked, his coarse hand skimmed down her neck and pried at the neckline of her dress. His blunt thumb prodded her collarbone. He repeated the motion of pressing the tip of his thumb into the hollow at the base of her throat.

“Sierra, Sierra, Sierra…”
His ragged breath brushed against her ear.

It wasn’t the first time Daniel had come into her room at night. The lock on Sierra’s door had long since been broken. Blocking the door with a chair hadn’t worked either.

She had realized there was no escaping that touch, and since then, she had kept her eyes closed as if dead. Like a corpse with no emotion, no thought.

Sierra thought of herself as a ghost wearing someone else’s skin. This body wasn’t hers. It didn’t matter if it was hurt, it didn’t matter if it was torn open. Thinking that way made it bearable.

She imagined shedding her powerless body like an empty shell and drifting away freely. As long as she pictured herself running through the night streets, reality faded into a distant blur.
But the metallic click of a buckle being undone dragged her back.

The breath brushing her lips grew hotter, and the frantic rustling quickened. Then, suddenly, the sounds stopped.

A sticky hand slid over her lips. Damp. Fishy. The smell pricked at her mouth.

Nausea surged.

The sensation she had once killed off returned to life. That horrible feeling of an unshakeable spider crawling over every inch of her skin revived. There would be no becoming a free ghost running through the streets. She was trapped in her body again.

Sierra opened her eyes. She pushed away the nauseating body leaning over her.

In the dark room, she saw Daniel, his pants undone. When their eyes met in the shadows, Daniel recoiled in shock, stumbling back.

Thud—

The wardrobe rattled as he hit its open door.

“Ugh…”

Falling flat on the floor, legs splayed, Daniel lay exposed—his loosened front and the thing he had taken out showing helplessly. His face flushed with embarrassment and shame.

A thick palm clamped over Sierra’s mouth.

“Keep quiet, Sierra. Don’t tell Father.”
Daniel growled the warning like an enraged beast.

Sierra’s nose and mouth were covered, and she couldn’t breathe. The more she tried to push his wrist away, the more his palm pressed down on her face. She nodded her head. Her breath opened up.

Daniel, who had stepped back, adjusted his front. The pleasure forbidden by Pastor Miles was hidden away beneath his pants, straining against his shirt. His hand, soiled with white semen, was hastily wiped clean on his pants. Daniel left the room.

Sierra was left alone in the room where peace had been violated. As she wiped her lips and sat blankly on the bed, dawn broke outside the window.

The world welcomes the morning with composure, as if no one is unhappy. As if pushing you to keep living.

***

It wasn’t until Mrs. Miles came to wake her son for dawn prayers that she realized Daniel’s body was burning like a furnace.

While Mrs. Miles was restless in front of her sick son, Pastor Miles was unconcerned, considering it a minor illness.

Sierra had to wake up at dawn due to the sound of furious knocking on her door. Bang, bang—the sound pounding on the door felt like it was mercilessly hitting her head.

When she opened the door, Mrs. Miles stood there, neatly dressed and ready to go to church.