The hard, abrasive surface scuffed her cheek as she was pinned there, one arm twisted painfully behind her shoulder blades. Her attacker said nothing... made no noise at all. She could feel him running his free hand up the back of her shirt and a snap as he deftly unclasped her bra. The hand then moved around the front to grip her small breast, his other hand releasing her arm to join on the other side. Even with her arm released she was pinned to the wall by his body and could do nothing but. Racks of clothes hung above me, dull orange light leaking in from cracks in the sliding doors, and the floor was lined with rows of shoes, lending the tiny room that leathery, shoe-store scent.My mother's clothes and shoes took up nearly all the closet space. What little clothing my father had must've been stored in a small wooden dresser that stood like airon safe near their bed. Inviolable.Hiding in the quiet, tidy, warm sanctuary of the closet, originally just seeking solace from a loud and. More

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