There is somebody in this house. Their scent is lingering around every corner, infecting my lungs. Their presence is overwhelming, trying to grasp onto my soul. This house is slowly becoming everything except my home.  It is my grave, my holy grounds, my heaven, and my hell. I want to escape, but I have tied myself down. I can feel him coming closer, his footsteps moving slowly, his breathing getting heavy. I know his touch will burn through my skin, but I desire it, more than I have desired anything in my life. He is such a stranger, but I feel as though he knows all there is to know about me.

There is nowhere to turn to get away from him. He is in my shower, in my bed, and in my head. His face is so exquisite; his body, so much more. I’d call out for help, but I know no one would hear it. When he tries to touch me, I claw at his back, bite his shoulder blades, his hand, his thighs. I’ll pretend it is because I am trying to escape, but I have a feeling he knows it is because I want to make him hurt like I’ve been hurt. He is a monster in my home and I am a monster in my body. I need him to violate me, to break me free from myself.

There is somebody in this house. He has come to let me out.