I grimace. "I would like to say rush to your rescue but…"
She lets a mocking giggle leave her lips before finishing my sentence. "He will piss and shit himself, stutter and cry like a retard, and not even manage to beg our imaginary rapist to stop. At most he would rush out of the building and perhaps try to ask for help, but most likely he would just faint on the spot after having a nervous breakdown.
Robert is not a bad man at all, but every day I keep wondering 'is it the day when it happens?', knowing that we are powerless to do anything against it. I'm a weak and vulnerable woman, my daughter is a weak and vulnerable woman, and I don't want to spend my whole life scared of every man that steps into our inn.
