He dragged me into an alley and pulled out a cruel-looking knife. "In case there are any…noises," he explained with a low chuckle, then abruptly pushed me against the wall of the alley. The situation finally registering in my sluggish mind, I let out a bloodcurdling scream until he covered my mouth with his insistent, nauseating lips. I tried desperately to push him away, fighting tooth and nail, but he was too strong. All my senses were on high alert; I kept screaming and crying, trying to ward off his probing hands. I kicked and pushed and hollered as he ripped open my buttoned down. After I screamed yet again, he pulled out the knife and hissed, "You remember what I said about the knife: you scream, you get hurt." I begged and pleaded with him to stop, but it was too late. He ripped my sleeve off, and savagely slid the blade over my arm. Unable to think clearly, I instinctively shrieked in pain.
"You really don’t listen well do you?" he growled, brandishing the bloody blade again. I cried and cried. I knew he had cut me a few more times, and I thought the final, awful, disgusting climax of his attack would soon arrive, until finally, I heard someone, my savior.