Pinky Pinky

She gazed down at her body submerged in the steamy waters of the bath. She could hear the muffled voices of her parents coming from downstairs, the deep steady bass of her father and the frantic babble of her mother.

Very suddenly the low hum of her parents was abruptly silenced. The bathroom became cold and the girl sank into the tub to ward off the goose bumps forming on her shoulders. A pressing feeling weighed on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. He was here.

“Pinky-Pinky,” The sound of his soft voice sent shivers down her spine under the rapidly cooling water.

A dark shadow began to form in the corner of room. She could not compel her eyes to gaze there, by an uncontrollable compulsion she was forced to avert her gaze and turn to the white wall of the bathtub.

“Hello Mary, oh Mary Lamb,”

She did not reply she kept her eyes firmly fixed at the side of the bath. The side of the bath turned from white to a very light pinkish hue. The source of the voice was directly behind her. She felt a gagging sensation upon seeing the dreaded obscure, nebulous blur of a reflection. She tried to speak, to tell who ever it was, whatever it, was to leave her alone but her lips wouldn’t move.

“Leave you Lamb? No darling, I’ll never leave you.”

She felt movement in the water, a disturbance which caused the bath to become icy cold.

“Your bath, my dear, your bath is icy cold, you’ll catch your death.”

She closed her eyes tightly trying to imagine him away. Then he did something he’d never done before. She felt it on her bare thigh; a slippery latex touch. Her body convulsed and the touch turned to a grip.

“Listen to me you little bitch,” a voice hissed right into her ear, “Are you listening?”

She nodded and felt a tear warm her icy cheek.

“You must do it tomorrow. An opportunity shall present itself, you will seize it my little, itty-bitty lamb. Do you understand?”

She nodded again and let out a whimper. Mary felt the grip release and the hand retract.

“Such a beautiful girl; pretty lamb, little, little lamb chops, hmm.”

Behind her back Mary heard mock sounds of bleating.

Suddenly the soft silky voice was breathing in her ear again, “you won’t let me down, will you?”

A latex grip enveloped her neck.

“Say yes.”

She chocked and gasped “Yes.”

“Say; yes I won’t let you down.”

“Yes, I won’t let you down,” she sobbed.

The grip released and she moved her hands to her neck and wept freely. Pinky-Pinky was gone. She knew because she could once again hear the basso voice of her father, and the crazed, twanged soprano of her mother.