Micro-fiction: Never guilty

He came round to give me a quote to replace my boiler. I met him at a business breakfast meeting and we really hit it off.

His childhood and been a mixture of abuse and neglect.

My job as a psychotherapist made it easy for him to open up and I opened up to him. Sharing in the way we did helped him read something into a situation that was never there.

Two months later and I am in court to explain why this man had no right to sexually assault me while my children played upstairs. He was strong for an old man. He held me against the wall like a rag doll.

Powerless to move and afraid of alerting  the kids to something being wrong I let him finish.

I fight the accusations of being his stalker. Okay, so I rang him once at eleven at night but that was just to leave a message. I hung up as soon as he answered. I had forgotten he was a 24 hour plumber and I had made a mistake.

No, I wasn’t unable to pay him. Your line of defence that I needed to sell myself to pay for the work is ridiculous. The thirty grand in my savings account proves that.

It took a day. They found him not guilty. It seems he was able to convince them all and, humiliated, I can’t seem to let it go.

The bang as the chair hit the fall bought me back to reality. He had fallen over trying to get away but he was heavy and the chair had fallen over.

I watched him. Cloth stuffed in his mouth securely held in place with five laps of duck tape around his head. His hands taped to either side of the chair and his ankles to the chair leg. #

He was still strong but my hatred made me stronger.

In his head he was never guilty

I picked up the drill.

‘Do you really think you won?’ I ask as I look into his frantic eyes, smile and turn up the music.

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