Chapter 3 Chapter 3 The Hut in the Mountain

I see, you don't hang a lot of Christmas shit here, just a wreath on the front door.That's good, think about it, they say that the suicide rate is the highest during the holidays, and many patients who come to you are likely to be on the verge of suicide. If anyone can understand why people choose to commit suicide at this time, it must be me.When I was a little kid, I thought Christmas was trash.Seeing all my friends get presents and all I can do is stare in the shop windows, it makes me sick.Christmas the year before I was kidnapped?It was a great year.I spent a lot of money and bought a lot of decorations and fairy lights.I didn't decide on a theme for the decorations, so when I finished decorating each of the rooms, they looked like the odd and varied floats of a Christmas parade.

Luke and I still go for walks and snowball fights in the middle of the winter, we string popcorn and dried cranberries on a Christmas tree, we drink hot chocolate with rum, and we give each other a drink when we get drunk. The other party sang an out-of-key Christmas carol.It's all like a scene from a movie. This year, I'm not at all interested in these festivals.However, I don't have anything really interesting anymore.Like today, before we started talking, I went to your bathroom and I saw myself in the mirror.Before all this tragedy happened, I would walk by a shop window and look at my reflection in the glass.And now, when I look in the mirror, I see a stranger.Her eyes were like dried mud, and her hair fell limply on her shoulders.I should get a haircut, but the thought of going out again scares me to death.

Worse still, I became one of them—the whiny, morose kind of person who doesn't hesitate to tell you how miserable their life is and how unfair their lot is.Their tone made it clear that not only were they being treated unfairly, but you were taking what was rightfully theirs.That's probably how I feel right now.It's this time of year and I also want to say how well lit and beautiful the shops on the street are and how friendly and kind everyone is, the shops are really beautiful and the people are really friendly, but I just can't help myself and have to Say something nasty.

Last night, I slept in the closet again, maybe that's why I'm in a bad mood today and I have dark circles under my eyes.At first, I was lying on the bed, but I couldn't fall asleep, I tossed and turned, making the bed a mess, and I didn't feel safe at all.So, I crawled into the closet again and sat inside, huddled up, while Emma stayed outside.The poor puppy thought he could protect me. The pervert came out of the toilet. He shook a finger at me and said with a smile, "I don't lose track of time that easily." He's humming something, I can't tell you what it is, but if I hear it again, I'll puke.He pulled me out of bed and pulled me around in a circle.One minute he's nearly crushing my jaw, and the next he's Fred Astaire.He smiled and pulled me up and led me into the bathroom.

Candles were lit in the corner, flickering faintly, and the air was filled with the smell of candles and flowers.There was steam on the bathtub, and rose petals sprinkled on the water. "It's time to take off your clothes." "I don't want to take it off." I whispered. "It's time." He stared at me intently. I take off my clothes. He folded his clothes neatly and walked out of the bathroom with them.My face is burning hot.I covered my chest with one hand and my lower body with the other.He took both of my hands away and motioned for me to sit in the bathtub.When I hesitated, he blushed and stood a little closer.

I sit in the bathtub. He opened another cabinet with the big bunch of keys and took out a razor--a very sharp razor. He lifted my right leg, put the heel on the edge of the tub, and slowly stroked my calf and thigh back and forth.This is the first time I noticed his hands.There is not even a hair on the hands, and the fingertips are smooth and flat, as if they have been burned.I suddenly felt a pang of fear.What kind of person would burn his fingertips? I stare at the blade, watching it get closer and closer to my leg.I can't even cry. "Your legs are strong, like a dancer's. My adoptive mother was a dancer." He turned to me, but my attention was on the razor. "Annie, I'm talking to you." He knelt down. "Are you afraid of knives?"

I nod. He held the razor up so that the light reflected off the blade. "The new blades aren't as comfortable to shave as this one." He shrugged and gave me a smile.He leaned back and started shaving my calf. "If you can keep an open mind about this experience, then you will discover more about yourself. Knowing that someone else has the power to kill you can be the most amazing experience in your life." He insisted. Staring at me, "But you already know that death is actually a very free thing, don't you, Anne?" I didn't answer, he looked at the razor in his hand, and at me.

"I... I don't know what you mean?" "You haven't forgotten Daisy, have you?" I stare at him. "How old were you? Twelve, isn't it? She was sixteen, right? Losing someone she loved at such a young age..." He shook his head, "This kind of thing will completely change a person." "How did you know Daisy?" "Your dad died on the way to the hospital, didn't he? How did Daisy die?" He knew.This bastard knows everything. I only found out how Daisy died at her funeral, when my aunt was explaining why my mother didn't want people to see her beautiful daughter's body, and I overheard it.In the months that followed, I kept dreaming of her, holding her bloodied face and begging me to help her.For months on end, I would wake up screaming in nightmares.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "Shave your legs? Don't you find that relaxing?" "I'm not asking that." "Does that mean Daisy? Anne, you should talk more about that. It will do you good." I suddenly had an unbelievable thought.How could I lie in a warm tub and have this freak shave my legs and tell me I should pour out my emotions.What kind of world is this? "Annie, stand up and put your feet on the edge of the tub." "I'm sorry, let's talk again. Please don't make me..." His face suddenly lost expression.I've seen him like this before.

I obediently stood up and put my feet on the edge of the bathtub. The air was cold and I was shivering as I watched the rose-scented moisture evaporate from me.I hate the smell of roses, always have.But what about this pervert? He started humming. I want to push him away.I wanted to put my knee into his face.My eyes were fixed on the shiny blade of the razor.He didn't hurt me, it just hurt me a little bit with his fingernails when he grabbed my ass.He brought me great fear, like a giant tearing my chest. A few years ago, I once visited an old doctor whom I had only been to once before.That time I went to do a Pap smear test. I still remember that I was lying face up and the doctor's head was buried between my legs.The doctor flew the plane every weekend, and his office was covered with pictures of the plane."Just think about the plane," he said to me as he inserted the cold examination instrument into my vagina.And when this freak shaves my legs, I do the same.All I could think about was the plane.

After shaving my legs, he washed me clean again, led me out of the bathtub, and gently dried me with a towel.Then, he opened a cabinet, took out a large bottle of moisturizer, and started rubbing it on me. "Feeling good?" I got goosebumps all over my body.He ran his hands around, smoothing out the moisturizer. "Please stop. Please..." "Why stop?" he said with a smile.He took his time and applied moisturizer to my body without missing a spot. When it was done, he made me stand on a pink pile rug and I felt like a greased pig, which also smelled like a nasty rose.Not long after, he came back with a stack of clothes. He put me in a white lace strapless bra and white lace panties—not thongs.Fits just right.He took a step back, looked at me carefully, and clapped his palms a few times, as if to celebrate his successful completion of the task.Then, he handed me another skirt—a pure white skirt. If it was before, maybe I would like this skirt very much.This is a very high-end skirt, which feels expensive.It's a bit like Marilyn Monroe's famous white dress, but less revealing and more ladylike. "Turn around." I didn't move, he raised his eyebrows again, and made a circular motion with his fingers in the air. I spun around and my skirt floated up.He nodded in satisfaction, then held up his hand, telling me to stop. He took me out of the bathroom, and I found that he had taken all the photos, and the box containing the photos was gone.There were candles on the floor, dimly lit, and the most conspicuous thing in the room was the bed.Everything is ready. I had to come up with a reason to convince him.I had to buy myself a little time before anyone else found me.Someone must find me. "Wait, let's get to know each other first," I said, "so it feels more special." "Relax, Annie, there's nothing to be afraid of." It's as if the murderer is saying, the weather is fine today, why not kill everyone in the neighborhood. He turned me around and unzipped my white dress.I cried.Not wailing, but choking up foolishly.He kissed my neck as he unzipped the zipper to my lower back.I was shaking.he laughed. He let my skirt drop to the floor and undid my bra, I tried to get away but he wrapped one arm around my waist and held me tight while the other came around, pinched one of my breasts.Tears rolled down my face.When one of my tears fell on his hand, he turned me around so that I was facing him. He raised his hand to his lips and licked the place where the tear fell with his tongue.He paused for a second, then, smiling at me, said, "It's a bit salty." "Stop it. Please. I'm scared." He turned me away again and made me sit on the edge of the bed.He never looked me in the eye, not once - just stared at my body.A drop of sweat ran down his face, down his chin, and onto my thigh.My skin felt like it was on fire and I wanted to wipe that drop of sweat off, but I was too scared to move.He knelt on the floor and started kissing me. He tasted like sour cold coffee. I wriggled, trying to break free, but he just kissed my lips harder. He finally let go of my mouth.Thank goodness I was about to take a deep breath when he stood up and started undressing himself, and my breath got stuck in his throat. He is small in size, with well-defined muscles, like a long-distance runner, without a single hair on his body.The smooth skin shone slightly in the candlelight.He stared at me as if waiting for me to say something, but I just stared at him, trembling violently.His cock was starting to soften. He hugged my legs and pushed me onto the bed.Then he separated my legs with his knees, pressed one of my hands between us, grabbed my other hand with his left and pressed it over my head, his elbow against my arm. I tried to break free, resisting desperately, but his calf pressed my thigh tightly.With his free hand he started pulling at my panties. My mind started running wildly recalling everything I knew about the rapist.It seems to be related to the sense of power, they need to feel that they have power, but it seems that there are different types, some people need different things.I do not remember.How can I not remember it?If I can't stop him, can I at least put a condom on him? "Stop! I have..." His chest has already pressed my fist tightly against my stomach.I said out of breath: "I have a disease, a venereal disease, and it will be transmitted to you..." He ripped off my panties.I started to fight crazily.he laughed. I was almost out of breath, so I finally stopped resisting and took a big breath.I had to think, I had to concentrate, I had to figure out a way. The smile on his face started to fade away. Suddenly, I understood.The more I resisted, the happier he was.I force myself to stop shaking.I also stopped crying.I don't move.I think about those planes.He quickly noticed the change in me. He crushed my arm with his arm.I feel like my arm is going to break, but I still don't say a word.He spread my legs apart and tried to force his way in, but it was soft there.I noticed a mole on his shoulder and a long hair grew out of that mole. He gritted his teeth and said, "Call my name." I didn't call.I will never yell my father's name at this freak.He can control my body, but I won't let him control my words. "Tell me how you feel." I'm still staring at him. He turned my face away: "Don't look at me." He tried to force his way into me again.I suddenly thought of the hair on the mole.He shaved all the hairs on his body, leaving only one hair.Suddenly, instead of feeling scared, I became excited and started giggling.He's going to kill me, but I can't stop.The giggles turned into laughs. He lay motionless on top of me.I'm still looking to the side, at the wall next to the bed.He suddenly put his free hand over my mouth.He turned my face away so I was looking at him and I bit my lip hard.He squeezed my hand harder.I tasted a salty taste. "Bitch!" he screamed, spitting at me.His face changed again and became pale.He jumped out of bed, blew out all the candles, and went into the bathroom.Not long after, I heard the sound of water in the shower. I ran to the front door and turned the knob hard.The door is locked.The sound of the water stopped, my heart began to beat violently again, and I hurried back to bed.I faced the wall, licked my bleeding lips, and cried.Tears and blood mixed together.The bed sank as he lay next to me. He sighed. "My God, I love this place. It's so quiet—I've made it soundproof. You can't even hear a cricket." "Please let me go back. I won't tell anyone. I swear. Please." "I've had a lot of sweet dreams here." He snuggled up beside me, put his legs on mine, held my hand, and fell asleep.I lay there, hugged by this naked freak, how I wished the bed would burst open and swallow me whole.My hands hurt too, my face hurts, and my heart hurts too.I cried and cried and fell asleep too. We still have a little time, but I'm done.Yeah, I remember we're taking a break next week because of Christmas.It's okay, I also need to get out of this mess and take a break.Let me tell you, I have to go back there again.Of course it is easier to deny everything.At least I can trick myself into thinking...but only for half a second.Escaping from all this is like closing a door in front of a rushing river. There will always be a trickle passing through the crack of the door, and gradually, the whole door will be washed open.Now, since I have let the water flow through, the door should not be washed down, right?If I let go of everything inside of me, am I going to float in the river with it?Well, now I just want to go home and take a hot shower.After washing, it may be washed again.