I’m not watching where I’m going as I run through the next door, causing me to trip over my own feet and face-plant. As I push onto my knees, I feel a hand wrap around my ponytail. Hold on, I thought they could not touch you? The pressure of the man pulling me by my hair draws me to a stand, and his front presses against my back. Wetness pools between my legs. Maybe Charles was right, maybe I am sick.
