A victim one recounts; child molestation (the beginning)

I was seven, far to young to know anything about the male gender, and up to that point I was as naive as anyone could be. He was my baby sitter tall, skinny, his hair was so red; like fire. My mother was a drunk always out at random bars going home with strange men. It started on the weekends, her not coming home and John, that was his name, would stay the night to watch me. The first few weeks I never noticed anything odd about John he was a normal twenty-some year old man here to keep me safe while my mother was away. but going on the second month my mother started bringing John over every other day sometimes for two days before she'd come back. I remember the day it happened, sad part is it's the only part of my childhood that sparks any emotion inside of me. John had put me to bed just like any other night at 8 pm he left the room for an hour or so, I couldn't sleep that night and the house was so quiet I could hear him rustling through the fridge and cracking open one beer, two beers,three, before I fell asleep. It wasn't until an hour later I heard him stumble towards my bedroom drunk. he pushed the door open and started saying wake up you little slut chanting it over and over again like some twisted game he was playing with me. I knew something wasn't right I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing happend I was paralyzed with fear. he made his way over to my bed slowly lowering himself on the edge he stopped chanting.  I could smell the alchol on him he must have spilled the beer, I hope he cleans it before mother finds out. He grabbed my wrist at first and pulled me into his lap. I made no attempt to struggle at this point even though my mind was screaming  DO SOMETHING SCREAM, BITE HIM, KICK, ANYTHING! But it was useless I was immobalized, a rag doll so to speak. He released my wrist for a moment to remove his shirt, after doing do he picked me up and sat me next to him on the bed he got up and locked my door. When the bolt latched my heart dropped I knew this was it either I was going to die or get seriously injured, even in my seven year old mind I knew something was about to go horribly awfully wrong.