Doing Business with Dory

For the next few seconds as he led me to the pool, all I could do was focus on the candy apple red paint that started from the beginning of the hammer handle to the very end of it. The long streak of red paint was shaped like an S, and the handle looked to be a worn-out brown color. The hammer also looked like it was somehow attached to the outside of a dirty leather belt which I assumed was fastened around the man's waist. He must be one of the maintenance men, I thought, telling myself I would probably eventually end up in the pool dead. Oh my God! I silently whispered to Jesus. He's going to kill me. Help me Lord, I prayed without a sound. I was too horror-struck to say a word out loud. All I knew to do was to let him have his way with me and pray for my survival. After the man angrily led me down the last step in the pool, he thrust my face straight down into the water. Then he held my head under for what seemed like several minutes. When he finally let me up for air, I started coughing and choking on the chorine water that had slowly filled up in my lungs. Then he vigorously pulled me close to him, as he clung aggressively to the tape he had wrapped around my eyes, though I could see nothing at this point. Suddenly, I felt him pulling at the bottom of my two-piece bathing suit, trying to take it off of me, but I was only struggling for my breath. I thought I would surely pass out soon, if he didn't rape me or viciously stab me with the knife first. I was scared stiff for my life, but as the next few seconds slowly passed by, nothing seemed to matter much anymore. I knew I was fading away fast because my breathing felt so shallow. Now, I was hoping and praying I would drown to death before he raped and killed me. D. J. DeSai lives in Louisville, Kentucky where she loves to write books and songs. She is also the author of Dory's Oh My God Stories and More Dory's Stories.