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Photo by Viliman Viliman on Unsplash

The Naked Entrapment of Hilary Lipton

Hilary stumbled out of her Uber car, tipping the drive a brand new $20.00 bill for his service. She was feeling giddy and lightheaded from the glasses of Merlot and salad after work.

Having gone out with her girlfriends, in the core of the city, to share their work week stories and bitch about men, Hilary felt satisfied. She needed that break to take time to listen to her friend’s issues, and turn off her own.

She was a criminal lawyer, and as much as she loved her career, and the amount of money she earned, it was a mentally exhausting position to be in. She always had to check her morals at the door, when she knew the criminals she was defending, were probably guilty. Her job of attempting to convince the judge and jury otherwise, drained her. Her time out with her friends really helped her to forget the shit she had been focusing on all week.

Although her tribe of friends were not lawyers, and never really understood how tough her job was, they listened intently to her stories. They were great listeners, even though one of them, Celia, tended to be quite judgmental

As she turned her key in the lock, and stepped inside, she entered her alarm code into the pad on the hallway wall. She was so glad to kick off her stilettos and strip down to her underwear. “Hey Missy” she slurred, as her tabby cat circled her feet. “How was your day, kitty?” The cat purred as Hilary bent over to stroke her back. She stumbled slightly, in her mild drunken state, almost falling to the floor. “Ooopsy”, she giggled. “Mama’s had a bit too much of the vino”. She pretended that her cat understood what she was saying.

She strolled into her enormous bedroom, stripping articles of clothing as she staggered. She flopped on her bed, while Missy hopped up and curled in beside her, purring softly in Hilary’s ear. “Ahh it’s good to be home, Missy.” Fully naked, and without washing her face or brushing her teeth, she slid under her covers. She never slept with anything on, as she loved the feeling of her expensive silk sheets across her body. It was like sleeping and being caressed at the same time. She sighed loudly, and fluffed her pillow. She looked at her clock’s red digital glow. The numbers flashed 11:35 pm. Within moments, her eyes were closed, and she and Missy dozed off to a deep slumber together.

Hilary and Missy lived alone in a sprawling bungalow. She had made the decision, after she bought in with her firm, to live in the suburbs. Her neighborhood was sleepy and quite, with elegantly kept yards, mature oak and willow trees, and backyard swimming pools. Others referred to her area as Snob Heights. It was a place where doctors, lawyers, and chiropractors raised their families. She had yet to find a man who would put up with her job, her independence or her obsessively compulsive intolerance to germs. She was a clean freak, who loved to live in a sterile environment. She believed it was because her occupation was so replete with dirt bags and scum, that her cleanliness somehow made up for it. She had a cleaning service come to her house twice per week, to appease her germaphobia.

At the age of only 35, she was basically set up for life. She had a 6 digit income, her house was paid for and she drove a Mercedes when she didn’t have plans to drink after work. It wasn’t exactly a habit, but she enjoyed meeting with her gal pals on Fridays, just to decompress, and get a bit drunk.

They slept silently, with only the glow seeping in from the undercounter lighting in the kitchen. She liked to leave them on so she could see her way to the bathroom at night and not trip over Missy.

It was 1:45 am when the click of her door woke her with a start. Groggily, she lay silent, while Missy sat up beside her, her ears slightly cocked. She had obviously heard the noise as well. In her drunken, tired state, Hilary forgot to set the alarm of the house. She sat silently, afraid to move. She heard it again. A loud “click” this time. She bolted upright and sat without breathing. Missy leaped from the bed and headed toward the kitchen. “Missy”, she whispered, “get back here”. The cat ignored her and headed toward the sound.

Within the next few minutes, there was light banging, more clicking and voices mumbling behind her door. She wondered who it could be at this time of night. Probably some drunken idiots that couldn’t find their own house. She sat and listened intently.

Before she could get up and wrap a robe around her, she realized that they had come into her door. Panicking and struggling to breathe, she slid down the side of the bed, and crawled underneath it. Fear and anger crept through her as she slid as far into the middle of the underside of her box spring as she could. She barely fit under there, feeling like she was being squeezed slightly between her bed and the hardwood floor. Who the hell is in my house? Thoughts raced through her head. She held her breath and tried to hear what the two voices were saying.

“Come on, get the shit and let’s get out of here,” one deep male voice said.

“Yea, yea, we will get the stuff. Just hold on. I want to make sure nobody’s home first,” a squeaky voice answered.

They are here to rob me! The bastards! She tried to remember where she had left her phone, hoping she could somehow sneak out and get it to call 911. She remembered it was in her purse, on the hall table. Pretty close to where the two men were standing. Fuck

“Anyone home? Come out, come out, wherever you are”, squeaky voice taunted. She could hear his footsteps, with heavy shoes, walking throughout her home. She was pissed that the robbers couldn’t be bothered to even take their shoes off in her house. “There ain’t nobody here”, he announced.

His footsteps got closer to her bedroom door and she covered her own mouth with her hand to avoid letting any noises escape. She tried to hold her breath again, feeling winded. She watched as the dark hiker boots walked past the end of her bed, and she tried to keep from trembling. She wanted so badly to scream at him, to get the fuck out of her house, but she didn’t know how violent these assholes were. She remained as still as she could.

“Hey, Vince, come check this out!”. Squeaky voice called his partner in to her bedroom. She now knew one name.

The second set of shoes, white and black Nike runners, walked slowly past the end of her bed, only inches from her head. “What did you find?” Vince sounded excited.

“This bitch has money! Look at these diamond rings and necklaces. That is a great score.” Squeaky was going through her jewelry box, where her mother’s and grandmother’s precious jewelry was kept. No, not mom and grandma’s things. Anything but those. She could feel tears of anger and frustration behind her eyes. She tried not to sniff, as she felt her nose start to run.

“Let’s see what else she has in her. Go through her drawers, Jer”, Ok, she thought, squeaky’s name is Jer..Maybe short for Jerry? Or Jeremy?

She made a mental note in her head for when they catch these fuckers. And, she determined, they will. She focused on shallow breaths as they rummaged through her drawers and closet. She was angry at herself for not getting a safety deposit box for her mom’s and grandmother’s jewelry. She knew she would cry many tears once she was free and these guys were gone, Her mom had passed away suddenly the year before, and her grandmother had passed 10 years earlier. She cherished their jewelry and was afraid to wear any of it, in case she was mugged or did something to damage them. I guess, she thought, I will get them back when they find these assholes.

“Oh, look at the pretty underwear!” Vince was going through her lacey panties and showing them off to his partner. She caught a glimpse of her “first date” pink lace thong dangling from his fingers. Both of them laughed as they tossed the contents of the drawer around her bedroom. “I sure would love a woman who wore shit like this! Too bad we don’t get to meet her. I could have some fun with her. She seems like quite the slut.” Both men laughed at Vince’s perverted remark, and she could hear drawers sliding open, one after the other. She watched the floor, in horror, as her belongings were tossed around her. Maybe they will throw something useful, that I can use as a weapon.

She was mortified and enraged with disgust that two strangers were touching her things and making her home a mess. Her heart raced and she could feel her breathing getting faster. She tried not to move a muscle, pinned under her bed. She could feel sweat dripping all over her naked body, making her feel cold against the wood of the floor. She was starting to ache everywhere from being on such a hard surface. She wished she had grabbed a robe or something. Fuck, she wished she would have set her alarm. She tried to lay as flat as she could, on her round stomach. She felt her buttocks grazing the boards under her box springs. All she could do is wait them out, knowing that if they found her, Vince would try to “have some fun” with her. She shuddered and tried to stay still again.

After what felt like hours, the men left her room. She quietly attempted to slide around and get more comfortable, worried that the floor would squeak under her bare, sweaty flesh. She hoped they would be satisfied with their “score” and leave now.

Her office was a huge room, with a library from floor to 16 foot ceiling. She had a sliding ladder attached to the shelving for easy access to the top of the bookcase. In the office drawers, she had all of her credit card information, her check books and her bank statements. She also had a small safe that held over $10,000 cash, for her play money. She prayed that the criminals didn’t go in there. Her prayer was left unanswered. Within minutes, Vince was rifling through her office drawers and hollering for Jer to come look.

“This chick is filthy rich! Check out the balance on this account. And look at this!” Vince was laughing loudly. “We are the proud owners of a shiny new credit card! I have all the numbers and it has a zero balance with all this room” The two of them stopped talking for a moment to gaze upon her American Express bill. She rolled her eyes and wanted to scream at them. She would need to call her bank and the credit card companies as soon as she was free. Fuck them, they won’t get far.

She had sobered up completely now, and wished that she was still out with her friends. What if she had walked in on these losers when she came home? Then she remembered her alarm was set, so that wouldn’t have happened. She got angry at herself for not resetting the alarm before she passed out.

She could hear them, rifling through her office. Every once in awhile a loud bang would penetrate the floor, as the men threw books off of her library shelf. They don’t need to wreck my stuff. Just get what you want, and get the hell out.

She lay her head on the cold floor, as tears ran down her cheeks, making small puddles at the side of her head. She wondered where Missy went. The men haven’t said anything about seeing a cat, yet. She hoped that she was hiding somewhere under the spare bed that she had, for when her brother visited. That was her usual hiding spot when company came over. Missy hated strangers and Hilary totally understood why.

Her heart was beating so loud and hard against the wooden floor it was making her chest hurt. Her breasts were squished beneath her and she tried to focus on taking shallow breaths again. Her back was starting to hurt and she needed to get out of there. She tried not to panic, listening to Vince and Jer rip her kitchen apart. Oh come on, you idiots. You don’t need kitchen stuff. Get out of my house. She felt like she was going crazy, not being able to speak outloud, or make any sounds. For a few moments, she gazed around the floor, looking for something that she could injure one of them with. But, what would she do when the other one attacked her? At 170 lbs and 5 foot 6, she was not a small girl, and she was a fighter. Her dad had always said that she was a “farm girl with a big city brain”. She had tried many diets, weight loss clinics, and even had liposuction a few times to decrease her size, but she always came back to her 170 lbs of flesh. She tried to embrace her curves, and look like she was confidant, but unless she was in the courtroom, she failed miserably. She always felt like the fat girl, especially next to her wine drinking buddies. She thought of Celia and how her skinny legs and ass always made Hilary feel like a moose. Listening to Celia’s diet ideas, like carb-free, and Keto, was getting old. How dare she judge me? She doesn’t have a career or a life. She has two screaming kids and an asshole husband. Thinking of her friends was keeping her mind off the rattling and banging around in the living room. She tried to focus on other things to distract her.

Her mind went back to her mother. The year before she passed away, Hilary and her mom were inseparable. They had just renewed their relationship when Hilary decided to call her mother to apologize for a misunderstanding years ago at Christmas. She was overjoyed that her mom forgave her, and that they reformed a bond. Within 9 months of their newfound friendship, her mom was diagnosed with Lymphoma. Hilary went with her for round after round of chemo and radiation. The doctors were thrilled with her progress and within the same 3 months, she was deemed cancer free. The two of them went out to celebrate over a nice supper and a long visit. On her way home that night, her mother was in a car crash. A semi, driven by a drunk and distracted driver had T-boned her in her little Volkswagen and she died instantly. Hilary will never forget that phone call. She still blames herself. Not a day goes by that Hilary doesn’t wish it was she who was taken, and not her mother.

She shifted her body quietly and slowly, hearing a slight creak in the boards above her ass. She stopped moving and held her breath again, listening to make sure they didn’t hear it. They were too busy emptying drawers and talking, to hear the slight sound. As soon as she shifted her body, however, a new problem developed. A small dust bunny brushed against her face, and she had a strong urge to sneeze. She pinched her nose and closed her eyes as hard as she could, in hopes to stop the sound from coming out of her face. It started to pass. She let her hand slide onto the floor, and felt around for the lint ball, hoping to flick it our from under the bed. Damn cleaning ladies. Why the hell is there dust under my bed? I specifically ask them to make sure they clean under here. It felt good to be angry at someone other than the thieves in her living room.

It felt as though her bed was starting to collapse on her. It wasn’t, but she had been under it for so long that she felt like the space was becoming smaller, with each passing minute. She couldn’t see her clock to see how long she had been stuck there, but she knew it had been a few hours. She felt exhausted and tried to close her eyes. She rested her head on her hands and tears kept her from dozing off. She had never felt so violated in her life. She would have to sell this house and move now, she thought. There is no way she could feel safe here again.

Within, what felt like minutes, but could have been hours, Hilary snapped out of a sleep. Without realizing where she was, she lifted her head, striking the back of it on the wooden supports under her bed. Again, she had to cover her mouth to keep “Ouch” from falling off her lips. Laying her face back on the hardwood, she listened to see if she could still hear them.

“Hey, turn the TV on. That bitch isn’t home yet, she’s probably out slutting around until morning”, Vince muttered. Hilary couldn't believe it. The two assholes are watching my TV. It wasn’t enough that they had ransacked my life, but now they are relaxing in my living room? She thought about what she could do to get them out of the house. I could cause a distraction somehow and scare them. I could just jump out and run through the front door, but I am naked. I could sneak to the breaker box and cut the power. She knew that none of these ideas would work. If she caused a distraction, one of them would grab her. If she ran out the door, she would risk being grabbed and where would she go, naked, at this hour? And in order to reach the breaker box, she would have to go through her living room to get to the storage room. She was stuck without options. She tried to resign to her uncomfortable quarters to wait them out.

As she lay against the wood of the floor, she could see the two men piling up her expensive goods in the hallway. The entrance separated the living room and kitchen and in the light glow of her kitchen lights, she could see the sparkle of her diamond jewelry on the top of their stash. They had taken her brother’s XBox and games, a few KitchenAid appliances from her cabinets, a stack of papers and her jewelry. They had ziplock bags beside the stash, from her kitchen island drawer to pack the small items in. Her heart sank and she began to shake violently, wracked with sobs. She stifled the sound with the crook of her elbow and tried not to sniff. You assholes. You fucking pieces of shit. Get out! Get the fuck out! This is my house! Those are my things! Please, just go…..just go.

Thoughts of her little brother crept into her mind. he would be so sad if he saw them take his games and his cherished XBox. He was only 26 and was Autistic. He was a sweet boy, named Kevin, and she adored him. They had a very close relationship, especially since their mom had passed away and she loved him to the end of the earth. He was supposed to vist for the entire weekend next week and she was heartbroken, knowing he would not deal with this well. It would hurt him, more than it’s hurting her. Kevin was not good with change, of any kind. He liked everything exactly where he left it, and exactly the same every day. Even his cereal had to have the exact amout of milk as last time. Autism ruled his precious brain, but his heart was golden. This would be devastating for him. She would buy him a new console and games and clean his room and house, before he came to visit. Oh my god, Kevin. You would be so upset. It’s okay though, Hilly will make sure you are ok. I promise. He had always called her Hilly, from the first day he spoke. He was almost 7 years old before he uttered any words, and her name was one of his first. He was frustrating at times, and a challenge, but he had won her heart when he was born, and has never lost it.

The misunderstanding that caused her and her mother to lose years of their relationship was because of Kevin. Their mother and father had separated and they argued over who would keep Kevin. Her mother thought he should try and live in a home. Hilary would have no part in that, nor would her father. So, her dad decided that Kevin could live with him. Hilary spent most of her days off visiting her dad and Kevin, and her mom got upset. She called Hilary one Sunday afternoon, near Christmas, and told her that she was no longer welcome at her home. She made Hilary feel like shit for spending time with her brother. After Hilary decided to call her to apologize, her mother apologized to her and they worked through it. I just wish I would have called you sooner mom. We lost so much time and I am so sorry. Hilary’s eyes filled with tears again. Suddenly, her brain remembered where she was and she felt enraged. Let me out of here you bastards! I am a prisoner under my own damn bed and I am naked! Get the fuck out of my house!!

Finally, Vince piped up, “Ok, dude, let’s get outta here before the slut gets home. We need to load the truck in the dark so no one sees us”. Hilary could see two sets of shoes beside the stash they had piled. Here’s my chance.

She waited impatiently for them both to go out the door weighed down with all of her life’s purchases and gifts to herself. And her mom and grandma’s jewelry. She clawed her nails into the floor, preparing to pull herself out from under ,what felt like, her cage. She watched the Nikes go outside first, and heard the door close softly behind him. The hiker boots stayed in the hall. Go outside, you asshole. I need to get out of here. He didn’t move.Instead, he wandered around the house some more, looking for more goods, she suspected. She tried not to gasp, as the toes of his boots landed a few inches from her face. He stood there for a few moments, as still as she was lying. She didn't breathe. She didn’t move.

Something dropped at his feet and she shifted herself silently and tried to slide back further away from him. It fell with a loud clang and a jingle and she could see her Mercedes key chain, with the glow in the dark tab. She kept the dealer’s key ring on it for the phone number, and because it glows inside her purse, making her keys easy to find. Fuck you asshole. Leave my car alone and get out! Get out and let me have my freedom and peace. Let me call the cops. Get the fuck out of my house!!

His hand came down to the floor, and he groaned as he bent over. As his fingers grasped the keyring she saw something that made her shudder to her her core and she held back a scream. He had a tattoo on his hand that she had seen many times before. His voice had sounded familiar, the deep, almost Italian accent. Fuck, Vincent Barone. Are you fucking kidding me? Her rage boiled inside her mixed with a fear that she had never had in her life. She had defended this man in her courtoom last month for attempted murder, fraud and theft. She knew he was a dangerous man, and her blood ran cold. She knew if he found her, she would be raped and killed. Finally, she watched as his boots headed back out to the hall.

As her body trembled in fear, she had an overwhelming urge to pee. No, no no…not now. She tried to squeeze her legs tightly together, and gently cupped her vagina to help keep the urine from coming out of her. What the hell was she going to do if they didn’t leave? It was burning as she lay on her abdomen and she frantically searched for options, slowly turning her head left and right to find a way out. She couldn’t hold it much longer. She was beginning to become frantic and thought about stealing her way off to her ensuite. Maybe I can crawl on my hands and knees. No, they will hear me on the toilet. The urgency was coming on more intensely. She knew that if there was suddenly a puddle on the bedroom floor, and it smelled of urine, they would find her. She couldn’t stand the thought of laying on the hard floor, soaking in her urine.She reached out quietly, and started to grab articles of clothing and undergarments that they had thrown on her floor. She pulled from the side of the bed that they couldn't see, and grabbed as many pieces of clothing she could. She shoved everything she had in between her legs and relieved herself, feeling disgusted and satisfied. Never in her life, would she have ever imagined that she would soil her clothing. What a disgusting, revolting mess they had made. You will pay for this you bastards. You will pay dearly. She pushed the wet clothing to the head of the bed, where her feet were, to get rid of some of the odor.

With the stench of her own filth under the bed, she held back from gagging. She wanted to throw up, and she knew that she would never feel clean again. She would have to burn everything she owned now, as they have had their filthy fingers touching everything that she had worked so hard for. Why the hell are you still here?? Get out!!

The two men had now gone into the kitchen and she could hear them digging through her fridge. “Man, I am starving. She must have some food in here somewhere.” Vince had no idea who’s house he was in. She didn’t keep photos of herself anywhere in her house. The only art on her walls was prints and paintings she had won in art auctions. Most of them were quite expensive and she loved the way they made her house feel like home. Almost all of the pricey images were purchased at fundraisers for Autism. She attended 2 or 3 annually, and always donated a large sum of money as well as purchased rare pieces. The thieving idiots had no idea how expensive the artwork in her home was, or they would have taken them as well. The names on her checkbook and her bank accounts didn’t match the name she used as a lawyer. She was Hilary Lipton, and all of her accounts were under Jacqueline Parish. She legally changed her name when she became a member of her firm, for privacy reasons. Everyone, except the bank and her credit card companies knew her as Hilary. Her colleagues and clients only knew her as Hilary. To Vince and Jer, the credit cards were Jacqueline’s. That was a good move on my part. Sometimes I am smarter than I think.

As she wiggled around to get comfortable,the robbers raided her fridge. “What the fuck is this? Light cheese? Light salad dressing? She has no bread in here or anything. I guess we can drink her beer”, Jer complained to his cohort.

Go ahead, drink the beer. It’s Alex’s. The beer had been in her fridge for months. Alex had brought it over when they watched a football game together. She smiled slightly to herself thinking of that day. They had such a nice afternoon. He taught her all about passes and quarterbacks and end zones and such. She really didn’t understand what he was talking about, but she enjoyed listening to his excitement. Shortly after that wonderful day, and long night of passionate lovemaking, he called her to say they were done. He chose to go back to his ex wife. That was that. 6 months of bliss with him, ripped away. She hoped he was “the one”, and had fallen hard for him. She missed his blue eyes and shaggy beard. His body was built like a football player, himself. She missed him all the time, but sincerely hoped he was happy. I hope you are happy Alex. But, I also want you to rot in hell for breaking my heart. She felt her heart ache, thinking of him, in the comfort of his bed, tangled up with his wife. She tried to stop thinking of him and listened for Vince and Jer. The TV was still on and they had stopped talking. She imagined they were watching some late night show, as she could hear studio laughter on and off. Occasionally, the men would laugh and mumble to each other.They were probably spread out, with their dirty shoes on her furniture, guzzling Alex’s beer.

As she shifted her sore body, she could still smell urine around her. Her head was pounding with pain now, and she just wanted to crawl out and be free. As she hoisted her butt up to let her breasts rest from being squished beneath her for a moment, a searing pain went through her left leg. It started from her ankle and worked its way up to the bottom of her butt cheek. She bit down on her arm to keep from crying out. It was a leg cramp from hell! She hadn’t had any water to drink for most of yesterday and all night. Dehydration was taking over. Her muscles cramped and the pain felt as though she had a knife shoved into her calf. She couldn’t flex or move her entire leg without the cramping coursing through again. She bit so hard on her lower arm that she could taste blood, but she couldn’t make a sound, even with the amount of torturous pain she was in. She couldn’t get up and try to walk it off. She had to power through and redirect it somehow. She took her teeth out of her arm, and they made a sick suction cup noise, before the blood started to drip. She grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled as hard as she could, in hopes of taking the pain from her leg. Slowly it started to work, and she could release the tightness of her calf slightly, She maneuvered her body enough to grab behind her leg and slowly massage it. Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck

What if these animals never leave? Why haven’t they gone away yet? I wonder how long I have been under here?

She was starting to lose hope. She wondered how much longer she would be held prisoner. She knew she couldn’t take much more. Her stomach complained from hunger and if she didn’t drink water soon, the cramps would come back. She wondered what her dad would do in this situation. He was always such a tough guy. He was a soldier who suffered from PTSD and had been on disability for quite a few years from a gun shot injury to his hip that gave him a permanent limp. He had earned a Purple Heart and was a true hero. He never spoke of the war or his injuries, but he always had a certain darkness behind his eyes. Hilary had always loved the man dearly, but feared him at the same time.Her parents had separated because it was too hard for her mom to be married to a war survivor with PTSD and raise a son with Autism. When Hilary went away to University, her mother had no life, and it destroyed their marriage. He is an old man now, who lives with a woman that Hilary has never approved of. She doesn’t have patience for Kevin and she spends every cent her father has. She tries to be a trophy wife, but Hilary has always seen her as a gold digging bitch. She tried to keep a relationship with her dad, for his and Kevin’s sake, but his wife, Diane, is not someone Hilary likes to speak to. Diane makes sad attempts at being her “mother” and Hilary laughs it off. Her dad would probably have gotten himself out of this mess by now. Even at his tired, injured age.

She tried not to sigh out loud as frustration, anger and impatience took over. She fidgeted slightly to keep her leg active and shifted her weight again, to keep her blood flowing. She was getting cold now and longed for the softness of her bed and a blanket. She searched the floor around the bed and settled on the area mat beside her. Quickly, and as quietly as she could, she tugged at the mat. It had clothing strewn on it and she tried to shake them off. She hoped that the thieves wouldn’t come back into her room and notice the small rug missing. Once she had most of it under the bed with her, she tried to roll it around her. God I hate my fat body. Why am I not skinny like Celia or my other friends? They wouldn’t be stuck with their ass against the wood. They could lay here for hours with their flat chests and no ass. Fuck, I want food. Why didn't I eat dessert after dinner? I should have had cheesecake and let Celia and her Keto carb free bullshit watch me eat, and squirm. Her and her low carb gin and tonic. Fuck that. I want to enjoy what I eat and drink. It’s bad enough I have low fat everything in my fridge! Damnit I want a burger and fries once in awhile. Fuck them. She tried to curl the scratchy mat around her body for warmth. It was helping but the wool felt horrible against her skin. She craved the feeling of her silk sheets. Irritation, hunger and anger began to consume her. She pondered her options again. Maybe I can just pop out and scream. Maybe they will run.

The thought of Vincent Barone crept through her skull, like a hot knife through melting butter. He was a creepy man, and he terrified her. Her job, though, is to defend criminals like him, and she had to come to terms with that. Everyone is innocent until proven guilty. She knew he was guilty, but defended him nonetheless. He has rights.

She told the courtroom that there was no way that he was the one who harmed that sweet single mother. She told the jury that he had an alibi. He was with his dying mother that night, in the hospital, seen by witnesses. It was a slam dunk, and it made her a shit ton of money when he walked out of the courthouse that day. She always tried to forget about cases like these. They haunt her and make her crazy if she thinks about the possibilities of these criminal harming others. Maybe this is my karma. Maybe that’s why he ended up at my house. I am a horrible person who lets criminals walk the streets. This is my day of reckoning. The tattoo on his hand is a black cross with blood dripping from it in faded red ink. he has a thick head of jet black hair and a face full of scars from acne or a fire. She can’t tell which. He is over 6 feet tall and skinny as a rake. His mouth is full of rotten teeth, except for one shiny gold one that sits proudly behind his top lip, blinging in the light when he grins. She shuddered thinking of him. He disguted her in the courtroom and he makes her want to vomit right now, as he let his sweaty, stinky hands touch her belongings. She will have to get rid of the white leather couch he is probably laying on right now. She felt overcome with grief, shame, loss and blood boiling hatred.

The floor was feeling harder and harder underneath her bare skin and the rug she had partially wrapped around her was making her legs and butt cheeks itch. This was beyond tiresome. The men were now in her garage checking out her car. She could hear the menacing sound of her unset alarm system state “Garage Door Opened” as they entered. She imagined they were deciding who was driving her “Black Beauty”, Mercedes. She had worked her ass off for that car, and paid cash for it. Those fuckers will probably destroy it, or file the numbers off it to make money. Just take everything. I don’t care anymore. Please, just take it all and leave me and my house alone. She carefully looked around to see if she could make an escape while they were distracted. “Garage door closed”, Damnit!

She heard their footsteps coming back toward the kitchen and bedroom and tried to stay still. Her itching legs needed to be scratched and her stomach hurt from being pressed on for too long. I need some damn water! I need food! I Need to get the hell out of here! Please God, get these assholes out of my house!

She heard Vince talking again, “Ok, lets gather up our shit and get outta here before the bitch comes home for her surprise! She should have driven her car hahahaha. She is so rich, she probably has a second one anyhow. Steal from the rich and give to the poor, right? We’re poor ain’t we Jer”, he snickered.

“We sure are! And now she will be too. Her insurance will replace everything. Who the fuck cares”, Jer laughed. “Rich people have great insurance”.

We don’t have insurance for being held prisoner in our own homes you fucking jerk. Okay, get out now. Let me out of here!

Jer and Vince started gathering up their winnings and Jer was headed to the door. “Oh what have we here! Hi, kitty! Where did you crawl out from?”

Shit, they found Missy. She peered under the bed and saw a lanky hand stretch down to the cat to try and pet her. She hissed at him and ran into Hilary’s bedroom, leaping onto the bed in one pounce from the doorway. Jer followed her.

“Don’t worry, kitty. I won’t hurt you”, he consoled as he came toward the bed. Hilary held her breath and tried not to move. Damn cat, I wish I was on my bed. She tried to quietly wiggle backward in case Jer decided to check under the bed for merchandise. She had been lucky so far, but she knew better than to assume he wouldn’t. He hadn’t noticed the missing rug yet. She lay as quiet as could be, with the weight of Jer and her cat on the bed above her legs. She could see his shoes facing the wall, as he sat, probably trying to pet Missy. She hissed again and growled deep in her throat. Good kitty. We hate that man!

Missy jumped off the bed and scooted underneath at Hilary’s feet. She was shocked to see her owner and bolted to the other end of the bed, tearing a deep claw mark into Hilary’s bare leg. It hurt like crazy and Hilary tried not to gasp or scold her cat. She was trying to survive, just like Hilary was. Hilary tried to shove her away, so that Jer wouldn’t look under the bed for her. Missy hissed in Hilary’s face and wouldn’t budge. Go on! Get out of here, stupid cat! They will catch me! Missy tried to wrap herself around Hilary’s body, happy to see her, and started to purr. Hilary did the only thing she could think of at the time, and felt awful for it. She grabbed Missy’s tail and bit it as hard as she could. The cat screamed in shock and horror and scrambled to get out from under the bed, making a dash toward the spare room. I’m so sorry baby. I didn’t want to hurt you. Hilary fought back tears, while Jer lost interest and left the room. She heard his Nikes stomping and leaving marks on her floors.

Finally, they were headed out the door. It must have been close to 5 am when they finally gave up enjoying her house and stealing her stuff. The front door opened and closed. Footprints could be heard on her front steps, but only one set. She lay still, and waited to be sure. She heard nothing, and thought it may be safe to crawl out finally. Her entire body shook and ached and she had to pee again. Her head pounded and her eyes watered with the hope of freedom. She dug her fingers into the floor and started to pull her way out. She wiggled her hips and back and slowly crept out on the side of the bed that couldn’t be seen from the doorway.

As soon as she slid out enough where she could kneel, finally, she peered over her mattress and linens. She saw a shadow move in the kitchen area. Fuck. He’s still in here! What are you doing now? Get out! Get out! Get out! She slid back onto the floor and decided to try and slide back under the bed on her back this time to give her stomach and breasts a break. Just a few more minutes. You got this. You can do this.

As soon as she got as comfortable as she possibly could, with a full bladder and an aching body, the crashing and banging started. At first, she couldn’t figure out what it was. She turned her head slightly as the next crash sounded, and she watched one of her treasure prints hit the floor with a resounding smash. He had found her golf clubs and was destroying every wall print in the hallway. What the hell are you doing that for? Why damage more of my property? She felt tears slide down her face and sweat run down her chest and legs. Enough already you piece of trash!

After he had swung the golf club, laughing maniacally to himself, she counted 7 of her treasured pieces of art smashed into pieces on her floor. Glass was everywhere and she could see a large hole punched through her favorite one. It was an image of two young boys, watching a beautiful sunset. They were seated on a bench, in black and white, while the sunset was vibrant reds and oranges. One boy with his arm around the other’s shoulders, their heads touching. It was a perfect portrayal of Autism and how much she loved her brother. Now it was shattered and the hole was punched on the boy’s heads, leaving it looking gruesome. The rage boiled like molten lava inside her, making her sweat more profusely and she wondered if she could take him down. He was armed with at least a golf club now, and she had no weapons. He threw the golf club on the ground with a thud that she felt through her body. She wanted to damage him like he had her prints. She wanted him dead.

You motherfucker! Get out of my damn house or I swear to God I will kill you!!

Just as she heard him walk toward the garage to take away her car, the garage door opening, she heard a familiar sound. Oh my god! Not now! Don’t call me now. Stop ringing! Her phone was ringing in her purse. She remembered now, although it was a blur, that she had put her purse on the front bench and dropped her shirt on top of it on her way to bed. She couldn’t wait to get undressed and her blouse was the first thing she removed, after her stilettos. She draped it over her purse to avoid wrinkles. His footsteps headed toward the entry way and she stopped breathing. Her heart raced in her chest. She knew it was her brother calling her, as he did every morning at 5:30. he never slept past 5 am, and always had to wake her up. It was his routine. She prayed that Vince wouldn’t answer his call. It would be enough to freak him out. When he freaks out, he bangs his head over and over again, and jumps on a city bus to come see her. He was very protective and worried all the time about her living alone.

The ringing stopped. She sighed quietly, under her breath and allowed herself to breathe again quietly. It didn’t stop him from looking for the source of the noise, however, and he dug his way through her blouse and found her purse.

Shit! Shit! He will find my ID in there. Of course he found my purse. I am just that lucky. She held her head in her hands and struggled to not scream out at him. The men had destroyed her home, taken her things and now they found her bag. She just wanted to die.

“Well, holy fuck! Are you freaking serious? I’ll be damned”, Vince muttered out loud to himself.

He just discovered who’s house this is. He knows it’s me. he recognized my Driver’s Licence photo and he knows it’s me, his lawyer. Maybe now he will leave me alone. Maybe he will be grateful enough that I let him go free. I am the reason he’s free, afterall. Maybe, just maybe, he will let me go if I promise not to say a word. Insurance will cover my losses. I will make him a deal. I was a good lawyer and a good person to him. I never turned my back on him. HE OWES ME!

She could see his shadow and his feet, standing still going through her bag. As he dug through, he dropped tampons and cosmetics on the floor, before finally, turning her Louis Vuitton bag upside down and shaking the entire contents, except her wallet, on the ground around his feet. She could hear the sound of breaking plastic and glass. She grabbed her hair and yanked on it in frustration.

“Well there you are again, cat. You must be hungry, since your slut owner is too busy fucking men to feed you! Since when is her name Jacqueline anyway? I thought your owner’s name is Hilary”, he was talking to the cat as if she would reply. She hissed at him, and bolted into Hilary’s room again, finding her way under the bed.

No, no not again! Go away. Shoo! Missy. I love you but you need to get away from me! The cat tried to hide her body underneath Hilary in distress, leaving claw marks and scratches all over her. Hilary grimaced quietly in pain and fear. She tried to push the cat off of her, causing more scratching and hissing. She couldn’t roll over onto her stomach to protect herself and she frantically tried to get Missy off of her. The more Hilary fought her off, the more she got scratched. Missy let out a screeching meow and panicked trying to get off of her owner. Hilary was covered in claw marks and could feel burning welts drip blood over her body. Please Missy please. Leave me. Go to Kevin’s room and hide. Please. Tears were running down Hilary’s face and she scrambled to get out from underneath the frantic kitty. Her naked skin was making squeaking sounds on the floor as she thrashed around. He can probably hear me. Go away Missy!

Vince must have heard the soft commotion under the bed, as his feet quickly hurried to her bedroom. She tried not to sob, but she couldn’t control it any longer. Her bladder released and she urinated beneath her legs and back. She knew he was coming for her and she tried to hold her breath again, but the desperate sobs wouldn’t stop. Missy hissed loudly and the growl from a wild cat emitted from her throat. She knew that Vince would have heard it and she tried to stop shaking. Her nose filled with the stench of urine, frightened cat, and her own body odor. The mat she had wrapped around her was now covered in pee and the smell soaked into her nose causing her to gag.

His feet stopped at the end of her bed. She couldn’t look behind her to see where he was from her back. She heard his breathing and smelled the stench of dirty shoes behind her. Just fucking kill me already. Just get this over with. I am done. You win. You can take everything including my life. Please God, please take care of Kevin. Please make sure he is okay after I’m gone. I beg you.

As she ended her prayer, she heard the sound of his knees hit the floor behind her head. He groaned as he bent over. The stench of beer mixed with the other disgusting aromas around her. This is it.

“Well, look who we have here! Hello, Miss Lawyer”, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out from under the bed . Laughing loudly as he watched her naked body emerge. She screamed in pain , kicking her urine soaked feet wildly . “You’re naked under there, you slut! Who else is here with you? “ Hilary didn’t answer him.

He looked down at her face, and came closer, as if he wanted to kiss her. He held his cheeks an inch from hers, kneeling down beside her. She choked on the heat and stench of his face. He smiled and she saw the menacing gold tooth shine in the morning sunlight that was peeking through her window.

“You son of a bitch! Get the fuck out of my house!” She spat in his face .

He raised his hand, formed into a fist, and slammed it into her face. All she saw was stars in the dimness of her room . And then …

Everything went black

Writer of relationships / early childhood and mental health . Poetry and fiction dabbler

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