The park was crowded with late-afternoon light. She chose a bench near the pond, hoping the ducks might distract her. But the bench was already occupied by a man in a windbreaker, eating a sandwich from a paper bag.
She did. He studied her face for a long, uncomfortable moment, then lifted her grey dress to her ribs. His fingers were cold on her stomach. He pressed his palm flat against her diaphragm, as if feeling for a heartbeat, then let the fabric drop. freeuse freya parker
Her phone buzzed on the toilet lid. A text from an unknown number: “Tomorrow, 9 AM. Dentist’s office. Don’t eat anything after midnight. Just lie back and open your mouth. No novocaine required.” The park was crowded with late-afternoon light
“I’ve heard about you. The Parker arrangement.” He chewed. Swallowed. “I’m a guest of the family. Your mother’s book club. Last Tuesday.” She did
She bent. The wood was warm from the sun, the grain rough against her palms. She watched a mallard dive and surface, shake water from its emerald head. Behind her, the man unzipped his trousers. She counted the seconds. Fifteen. Thirty. Forty-five. A grunt. A rustle of fabric.
Freya Parker’s morning began not with an alarm, but with the soft click of her bedroom door. She didn’t open her eyes. She simply turned her head on the pillow, offering the pale curve of her neck. A moment later, her stepfather’s hand rested there, a brief, absent pressure, like checking a light switch. Then he was gone, his footsteps fading down the hall toward the coffee maker.
“Thank you,” her mother said, already returning to her tablet. “You can finish your breakfast.”