She was suddenly apprehensive. “Sure. Come on.” He took her hand and led her into the kitchen.
He poured a glass of water for her and watched her drink it. “You look nervous.” “I—I am.”
“There’s nothing to be nervous about. There’s no chance that my folks will come back. Let’s go upstairs.”
“Jim, I don’t think we should.” He came up behind her, his arms reaching for her breasts.
She turned. “Jim...” His lips were on hers, and he was forcing her against the kitchen counter.
“I’m going to make you happy, honey.” It was her father saying, “I’m going to make you happy, honey.”
She froze. She felt him pulling her clothes off and entering her as she stood there naked, silently screaming.
And the feral rage took over. She saw the large butcher knife sticking out of a wooden block.
She picked it up and began stabbing him in the chest, screaming, “Stop it, Father.... Stop it... Stop it... Stop it...”
She looked down, and Jim was lying on the floor, blood spurting out of him.
“You animal,” she screamed. “You won’t do this to anyone again.” She reached down and plunged the knife into his testicles.
At six o’clock in the morning, Ashley went to the railroad station to wait for Jim. There was no sign of him.
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