Two years went by quietly, I was seventeen. Jonathan's words to describe my shape were, “Caroline, it’s fortunate that you have begun to show femininity!” It was on Monday. I should have been sitting in the classroom, but I went across the bustling streets and walked into a fancy private hall.

I sat down in the corner and ordered a glass of lemon juice as usual. The times were advanced and so was the entertainment industry. The private hall was the best example, it was different from a general nightclub. Although there was dancing and music, accompanied by beauties, as well as the same atmosphere as a nightclub, the people were distinguished and gentle, and women were extremely gorgeous.

Sometimes, strange men would stop by me and ask me if they could sit on the opposite side of the table. When I told them it’s reserved, they would walk away and seek a new target. There wasn’t usually much chaos, except for that day.

Five crude men sat on a curved couch not far from me, they were drinking and arguing. From their uncourteous attitudes and postures, one could easily guess that they were uneducated. As for the content of the conversation, it was obscene and filthy. They looked at the dancing girl up and down. Fortunately, it wasn’t Lisa’s turn to dance there.

"Desiree? Are you skipping class again?” Hearing the sweet voice, I could tell who it was without raising my head.

"Lisa. I came out to refresh myself. Do you have time?" I asked her.

In those two years, when I was upset or depressed, I would go there to find her. If she was free, she would sit and talk to me. I loved her maturity, especially her enthusiasm and sophistication, but I did not like her dancing. And I was pleased to listen to her talk about men of all sorts.

Before I saw her dancing, I thought it would be graceful and light-footed like the light snow. As a matter of fact, I could hardly describe how seductive her dancing was, it was so sexy that I no longer wanted to watch after a few seconds.

"What's the matter? Is your shameless, indecent foster father harassing you again?" she asked. I drank a mouthful of juice and the acid from the lemon flowed into my heart from my mouth. "He touched me again yesterday," I told Lisa.

"Where did he touch you?” she asked and then looked at my chest nervously, then she looked down at my thighs.

"Shoulders, and waist," I said and swallowed hard. Thinking of the scene of last night, I covered my hot face. "I can't stand it. I can't bear it any longer!” I said.

For the past two years, Jonathan hadn’t kissed me again, but he was always touching me inappropriately, and touching my hair, or holding my hands, sometimes my shoulder, his fingers would move slowly down my arm...

I had protested strongly against it several times, saying, "Don't touch me anymore. I can't stand it." He always raised the corner of his mouth slightly and whispered in my ear, "You will get used to it gradually.”

I would never get used to it. When his fingers slipped down my body, I had gooseflesh. It sent shivers down my spine. “Especially last night, when I was sitting on the sofa watching cartoons, he sat down, patting my shoulder with his hands to cradle me in his arms,” I told her. He lifted my hair, and his warm fingers touched my cheek. Then he moved his fingers to my shoulder and stroked me down to my waist along my bare arm

I breathed rapidly, so I stepped backward and whispered, "No." He smiled, kissing me on the cheek, gently. I was stiff as if I was in shock, then I pushed him away and ran upstairs. I curled up under my duvet for the whole night, with a myriad of thoughts in my brain. I felt that something was missing from my body and disappearing little by little. It was called reason.

Lisa shook my hands to wake me up and said, “Desiree, is he so overwhelming that the police can’t handle him?” I had answered this question so many times that I didn't even bother to nod my head this time.

I told her directly, "It’s a minor thing that he harasses me. Even if he kills me one day, the police would never bother taking action.”

"That’s right, the police only manage common people like us, but they turn a blind eye to the rich," she said.

"Lisa, do you have medicine that can poison people to death, like potassium cyanide?" I asked her, curiously.

“No. It's banned. It's more strictly regulated than marijuana! Besides, even if I can get it, it would cost you your life to poison others.”

"What choice do I have?” I asked her.

"Runaway. I'll give you some money later, and you can leave here by car,” Lisa suggested.

"Desiree, you are too sensitive? He hasn’t touched your chest or your thigh. Normally, it's no big deal for a father to put his arm around his daughter's shoulder and touch her face?” she said.

"I can't stand it. Every time he touches me, I shiver as if I am electrocuted."

Suddenly, I saw a familiar slender figure coming in through the door, it was Troy Yang.