I attempted to breathe in the hot air from the cotton fibers against my smushed face. Trying to move or free myself was out of the question. He had carried me kicking, screaming, and grabbing everything I could to free myself into our room and put me face down on the bed under the quilt then climbed on top of me. His hand pressed on the back of my skull. I waited. If I moved, screamed, begged, or even asked for him to let me up more pressure would be placed on the back of my head. It was past…