I am glad people are responding to this story. Thanks for the reviews thus far.
Fair warning: This chapter is VERY upsetting.
The first thing I notice is the scent of blood in the air. The smell is so strong and distinctive and overpowering that it almost chokes me.
Soon other sensations begin to shape into realizations in my mind. I am cold. So damn cold. I realize next that I'm on a hard surface. The floor! I am naked and there are goosebumps all over my skin. I am plastered to the icy linoleum beneath me.
Then I feel pain. Not just in my head but between my legs – a burning, ripping, searing pain. It's like I'm being torn up down there.
I slowly force my eyes open and look around for a moment. Finally I see the shadowy figure above me. I feel their weight pressing down on me. They are …
Ohmigod. I'm being violated. I'm being raped. And it's still so cold. I'm tired and shivering and I don't know if I can fight but I know I have to.
I struggle and raise my hands to smack my attacker in the face. My vision clears a bit and I see a pair of yellowed teeth between pale, caterpillar-like lips shape into a nasty sneer.
I hit him as hard as I can but he just laughs – cruelly, disgustingly. "Look who returned to the land of the living," a scratchy voice says. I buck underneath him to try to get free but that only fuels him on.
"Stop it!" I scream as loud as I can but it seems almost like a whisper to my ears. I struggle but he keeps thrusting into me. He won't stop and tears burn the back of my eyes but I won't cry. Not in front of him.
"God, you're so tight," he says. "So fucking tight. How did I never take you like this before? Oh yeah, because Junior Rennie was always in the way. But here's not here, little lady, he's not here, and we're having the best time ever, aren't we?"
I shake my head. "No, you monster!" My vision has cleared enough by now that I can see its Waylon Dundee. I am sickened and want to barf but I can't somehow, though my stomach keeps tossing and turning painfully. I went out on the river once on a boat and I got seasick. That's what this feels like almost. It hurts.
But still, nothing compares to the pain in my crotch. He's doing more than just fucking me; he's pulverizing me from the inside out.
"You're going to pay for calling me names, bitch," Waylon says. "Big time." He rams into me really hard and I feel something tear. I feel intense pain and there's moisture now, trickling out. I know I'm bleeding and realize that it's not the scent of Rose's blood assaulting my nose. It's mine.
"Oh god, Rose!" I scream. I remember what happened to her now. "Is she –"
"Dead? Hell yeah," Waylon says with a triumphant smile as he forces himself deeper in me. I try to fight but he roughly grabs my wrists and pins them above my head. "I whacked that old bitch over and over until she stopped whining like a stupid baby."
That makes me cry then. Thinking of the pain Rose endured because she was trying to defend me. She died because of me!
I spit in Waylon's ugly, scruffy face and he responds by letting go of one of my wrists and smacking me so hard across the face that my teeth rattle.
"You stupid cunt!" he screams. "Don't try that again or I'll make you pay. Really pay."
"Go ahead and just kill me already then!" I scream. "Just get it over with."
"I like it when you beg. Beg me, plead. C'mon, whore!"
The tears roll down my cheeks. "Just kill me. That will be better than having to endure another second of this. You are disgusting and you're horrible. . ," I say, over-enunciating each word so he can't not hear the hatred I feel for him in my voice.
He smirks and then lifts off of me. I think it's over until I see him go for his boot. He produces a knife from it as I lay on the floor, not willing to show my fear. I asked him to kill me and now he will. Good. It will be better than being raped again.
But he has other ideas.
"You slut, you're going to pay!" He laughs. "You think you're so much better than everyone but nope, you're not. You're trash and I am going to make damn sure you never forget that or forget me. I am going to carve my name in your wet pussy. W-A-Y-L-O-N."
"No!" I screech and this time I am struggling to sit up and get away. I try to get up and run but my knees feel week – my whole body feels like it weighs a ton. I manage to get to my knees somehow though as he dives for me. We struggle; we fight. I kick him as hard as I can in the hand. He howls as the knife goes flying across the room. Waylon yells a string of curses at me and as he goes for the blade, I get to my knees again. I try to get to my feet but before I can, he's grabbing me by the hair and slamming my head forcefully into the lunch counter. I see stars – actual stars but they look scary and menacing somehow, not like the little ones I used to wish on as a kid.
I can't feel anything anymore but I can see him dragging the knife down my belly and lower. I see tracks of blood where the knife grazes me. I decide I'll just go away from this. When I was a kid and something upset me, or hurt me, I would just let my mind wander and drift away and then I couldn't feel the pain anymore.
I start to drift away and can see Waylon from far, far away begin to cut me. But I can't feel it; thank god, I can't feel it. Then I close my eyes and I imagine a happy moment when I was a kid and I got to hold Joe for the first time. I was just three and he was a tiny little thing and the cutest baby I had ever seen, before or since. "Support his head, Angie," my mom says in a gentle voice. "Don't let him fall, Angie."
"I won't, I won't," I whisper back. "He's safe here with me."
Just then I hear another voice calling to me. It sounds so familiar. It's … Junior! Junior is here.
I start to drift down from the ceiling where I was hiding out from Waylon. Junior's voice gets louder. He is screaming my name as I hear a loud blast. There is a scream and I don't know who's screaming – me or Waylon, or maybe someone else altogether.
I came down from above completely and I'm lying there in a puddle of my own blood. I look around and Junior is leaning over me, touching my face. Tears are in his eyes. I can feel the warmth of his hand and I let him touch me for a brief moment, then I pull away as far as I can go.
"Hurting," I whisper between suddenly chattering teeth. "He hurt me, Junior… He…"
"I know, Ang, I know but he can never hurt you again, I swear. The other brother got away but I am going after him as soon as I know you'll be okay."
I watch through teary eyes as he rips off his police-issued button down shirt. Underneath is a white tee-shirt and I focus on the white until it's too blindingly bright and I have to close my eyes. I feel him lean over me again. I feel crisp yet somehow also soft, warm material covering me. He's placed his shirt on my trembling body.
The next thing I know I am being lifted up. I feel Junior pressing me to his chest and then he is running. I feel the strength of him and hear his heartbeat and I start to cry again. How many more tears can I cry today? I think vaguely, somewhere in the back of my mind.
I hear voices in the distance. Someone yells "What the hell happened?" and Junior says something but I can't understand it.
Blackness takes over again.