<br/>Jennifer screamed when the blade pricked her breast. She began to shake violently and uncontrollably as his knee rendered her legs open and supported her in vulnerable position between he and the knife. She had once cut herself badly in the kitchen and had been frightened of knives since then. The images of her trip to the hospital, the stitches, the site of the exposed bone of her finger, glistening with her blood had stamped their images in her mind. She dizzied and fell back against this abusing stranger, leaning into him to keep the knife from penetrating her skin. Her guts tightened and her mouth went dry. She struggled to swallow and could not. She croaked reflexively, the sound barely escaping her parched lips, “help.” Her feeble supplication was barely audible. She felt darkness press in on her and fell limp against him, losing consciousness.<br/>