Jenny knelt by the foot of her bed praying, as she had every night since she was 3. At that young age, her mom helped her say the words of the familiar bedtime prayer “Now I lay me down to sleep...” Now, her calm, even voice recited the syllables from memory as her mom lay passed out in the other room.
“I pray the Lord my soul to keep...” The teen’s eyes were focused on the crucifix hung above the head of her four-poster canopy bed, its frilly pink accoutrements framing the religious icon with an innocent sensuality.
“If I should die before I wake...” As she said these words, a shiver passed through Jenny’s young body as it often did. Images of her dead body, strangled with blue-black bruises on her white throat; or slashed and bloody, her mouth parted in a wordless cry of terror, her bright blue eyes staring sightlessly. As her body reacted to her mind’s morbid imaginings, another set of eyes watched her.
“I pray the Lord my soul to take.” These eyes were outside Jenny’s bedroom window, and they belonged to Jarrod, a 36-year-old CPA who lived down the block. When he was in his 20s, Jarrod discovered the joys of sneaking through the neighborhood, peeping through windows. He often watched his neighbors as they changed clothes, showered, or had sex. Jenny was one of his favorite viewing subjects; he had watched her several times before over the course of about a year. He wanted to do more than watch, though.
As Jenny finished her prayer and stood up, her coltish young body was silhouetted by a desk lamp, which penetrated her translucent nightgown. Jarrod was treated to an outline of her perfect young body ... her small, tight, breasts, thin waist, and round bottom atop a shapely set of legs. Almost as if she were posing for him, she stretched and yawned before heading out of the room toward the bathroom.
In the bathroom, Jenny quietly brushed her teeth. It wouldn’t have mattered if she were noisy; her mom as unconscious. She started drinking a few years ago after the divorce, and was now a confirmed alcoholic. Jenny was on her own, for the most part, fixing her own meals and getting herself to and from school. Once a month she roused her mom enough to sign and deposit the alimony and child support checks, but any semblance of the love she once received from her parents was long past.
After spitting out the used toothpaste and rinsing her brush and mouth with tap water, Jenny hiked up her nightgown, pulled down her white cotton panties, and sat on the toilet. She had no smartphone; her mom wouldn’t approve such a thing instead spending far too much of the family’s income on vodka. Even now, Jenny knew, Grey Goose bottles were strewn about the living room, among fast food wrappers, dirty clothes, and garbage. She would need to give the room a good cleaning tomorrow.
Sighing, the girl finished tinkling, and quickly wiped her pussy crack with a wad of toilet paper, As she did, she briefly thought about Glan, the boy she wanted to date. He was a senior and she was just a junior, but he was sooo handsome! But she was poor and couldn’t afford nice clothes or makeup, so there was no way handsome Glen would look her way. Sighing again, she dropped the tissue in the toilet and flushed the handle.
Humming quietly, she walked back to her room and walked over to the desk lamp, the room’s only illumination. Behind her, Jarrod stepped out from behind the door and eased silently toward her. As she clicked the lamp off in and turned toward the bed, she caught a glimpse of an unfamiliar shadow out of the corner of her eye just as Jarrod grabbed her, one hand over her mouth and the other arm around her throat.
Jenny’s first thought was that her father had somehow sneaked into her room and was hugging her, but then her mind realized how dumb that was. Her father was in Belize, doing some kind of thing with the University. She screamed as loudly as she could, but her cry was muffled and silenced by Jarrod’s large hand. She struggled, kicking and flailing her arms, but he firmly pulled her over to the bed, out of reach of anything that might crash to the ground if kicked, and sat down with her on his lap.
As Jenny continued to struggle, Jarrod slowly clamped down with his arm around her throat until she was having difficulty breathing. She paused her struggles for a moment, trying to catch her breath and get set for another onslaught. When she quieted, her captor eased off his grip slightly, allowing her to breathe.
As planned, Jenny caught her breath and lashed out again, desperately trying to headbutt her foe in the face, or heel-kick him in a sensitive spot. Again, Jarrod calmly clamped his arm tightly around her throat, cutting off her breath and leaving her slightly light-headed.
She calmed down again, and once again the arm relaxed, allowing her access to air. She got the message and sat still, quivering with panic, on her captor’s lap.
“Good girl,” he whispered in her ear. Keeping his hand over her mouth, he slowly lowered the other down the front of her body. Instinctively, she lifted her arms to cover her breasts. He moved his arms down below them, and then back up, forcing his hand between her arms and body. “Give me a little feel and I won’t hurt you.”