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but he was stronger than she ever would’ve guessed, and he dragged her into an apartment doorway. But even with his hands around her face, Casey managed to scream again—her loudest yet. She had timed it perfectly—the Beetle was just passing by.
    But it drove on.

9
    D ennis had her arms tied up to the bed frame. A rag was stuffed in her mouth and another was tied tight around her face, stopping her from screaming or even talking. The street outside was quiet; it had to be the middle of the night. Her eyes were open, but she knew they should be shut. What did she want to see for? She watched in frozen terror as Dennis sat on the bed, and without a word pulled off his boots. She tried to yell, but with the rags stifling her, all that came was a groan, full of pain, like a dying animal. The next thing she felt was Dennis’ hands tearing down her jeans. She tried to squirm free, but there was no place to go. Dennis was on top of her and she was ripping apart with pain. Suddenly she thought of being in fifth grade and staying the weekend with her father and his latest girlfriend. She was at the kitchen table doing homework while his girlfriend was cooking spaghetti. The girlfriend and her father, who were both crazy-drunk, got into a killer-fight, and the girlfriend threw the pot of boiling spaghetti water at him. Only it missed him, and landed all over Casey’s back. She fell to the floor screaming. The pain was unbearable—unending—the whole ride to the hospital she felt like she was burning up—a roaring fire—shooting right down to her bones. She wanted to live the rest of her life without ever feeling that kind of pain again. But this was worse. A thousand times worse. Dennis was on top of her and she was ripping apart. She tried to scream again. Still nothing. So she screamed silently to God. But He didn’t hear her. Where was He? If Ge wasn’t here for her now, when would He be? The pain never stopped. Blood was streaking down her legs. The fire was back, tearing into her flesh. Where was God? Where was anyone?
    Morning came. She never thought it would, but it did. Her hands were still bound and the only thing she had on was her T-shirt. There was wet blood on the mattress. Dennis wasn’t there. She had to get out. How? This was the most horrible place she had ever been. It was the most pain she ever felt.
    She shut her eyes and tried to think of something—anything—that would chase away the pain. Come up with a good memory—the greatest thing she ever did … when she was seven, in the first month when she and her mom were on their own, her mother would blast Van Morrison singing Brown-Eyed Girl . She’d sweep Casey up in her arms and dance her around the room, while they would both be singing along with the CD— Hiding behind a rainbow’s wall, Slipping and sliding all along the waterfall, With you, my brown-eyed girl . She’d be so happy—she was the brown-eyed girl. And with her tongue pushing through a space where she just lost a tooth, she would lean way back and then bounce forward, wrapping her arms around her mother’s head, all the while singing, You—you’re my brown-eyed girl—
    The door swung open and Dennis came in holding a Burger King bag.
    â€œWoken up?” He pulled out a burger, took a bite, and twisted it around. “Want some?”
    She wasn’t going to answer him. He came closer. She thought, Stay away from me! Stay away! He came up to the bed and held out the grease-stained bag.
    â€œGood fries.”
    Casey shook her head.
    â€œOkay.”
    Then he pushed his disgusting hand under her T-shirt and grabbed her breast. God she hated it; she had only let two boys in her whole life put their hands there, and now this asshole, with his cold, greasy hand, was doing it. She started to pull away, but then she stopped. She stayed still. She let him have his feel. She stayed still as a rock. He