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This is something I started in Scott Butki's "Writing Down the Bones" Topic -
The sun reflecting off the aluminum siding of the travel trailer was blinding. The heat of the July day was stifling. I made my way across the gravel driveway with the armload of folded t-shirts and underwear. My clothes clinging to me already, even though I was only a few yards from our back door. It was so hot it felt like a crackling dry blanket had been thrown over my head. That wasn't why I was sweating.
I knocked on the door of the trailer. He said, "Come in." I squeezed in the door, making myself as small as possible and reached in with the laundry to put it on the fold down table immediately inside the door. It was suffocating inside, yet there was a cold pit in my stomach. I started to back out of the door.
"You know where they go," He said. "would you put them away for me please?" Sweat was trickling down my back, my forehead, everywhere it seemed. I picked up the pile of clothes and skirted around him to place them in the drawer. His artificial leg was in the corner opposite him. I imagined grabbing it and running with it as far and as fast as I could. Never stopping. But just for a moment. What would be the point? I scooted back around him. He grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap. "Why so shy?" he said. Putting his arms around me.
His hands slid all over my body. Grasping fingers reached under the t-shirt the stuck to my body with a sticky coating of sweat, groping and fondling. The other hand probing between my legs, inside my shorts. The cloying odor of the powder he used on his fleshy body was nearly as overpowering as his stale panting breath in my face. All I could see in my head was blackness. All I could feel was nausea and fear. I knew it wouldn't last long. He wouldn't want to raise my mother's suspicions. I would escape soon. Until next time.
http://sbutki.newsvine.com/_news/2009/05/17/2828917-writing-down-the-bones-may-17-topic-hot
