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“Rape,” I hissed, stopping Batman from coming down on me. “You know that’s rape, right?”
Batman glanced to Brooklyn, who shrugged him off. “You’re a god on the football field, and she’s just a street rat. Anyone with two eyes will believe you over her.” Not the most valid argument, but it was one that cut deep anyway.
No one would believe me because I was poor, and he was an athlete, and when booze was involved, people often looked the other way.
I’d like to say it wasn’t true, that something like that couldn’t happen, but I’d seen the news stories, before I stopped watching the news entirely. I knew what happened to white rapists: they got off, or the judge sentenced them leniently. A terrible truth of our so-called modern world.
When Batman decided Brooklyn was right, he practically sat on my legs, stopping me from kicking him where it hurt. My fight or flight instinct kicked in and I went for his eyes with my nails, next. Didn’t get far, though. Brooklyn grabbed my arms and held them down, above my head.
“I’m surprised you can move around so much,” Brooklyn whispered, her faded brown hair draping over my face. “Considering the terrible weekend you had last week.”
My struggles ceased the moment I stared into her icy blue eyes. “You…” I started, unable to say anything more. It wasn’t Ray who hit me with his car—it was her. “Why?” I asked. “Because I made you look like an idiot? Because I took Sawyer from you?” Hell, she was the replacement, not me.
And if she wanted Sawyer that bad, just fucking take him. He wasn’t worth this.
“Because I could,” she said. I smelled the alcohol on her breath and knew she was probably drinking last weekend, too. She’d found me, stalked me, and tried to kill me. “Because the world will be a better place without you in it.” Her icy stare rose to Batman, who’d stopped to watch us. “What are you waiting for? Do it!”
Batman started to unbutton his pants.
My head leaned back on the blanket, and I stared up into the eyes of my worst enemy. Brooklyn, someone who I’d completely forgotten. Hell, I forgot she existed, except in my moment of anger when I thought about her and Sawyer together, the indignity of it all.
This was so fucked up. Couldn’t she see that? Didn’t she have a rational bone in her body to know that this was wrong?She tried to kill me, and now she was having some dude she knew rape me. What the actual fuck?
“Scream all you want,” Brooklyn spoke with a smile. “No one will hear you, and if they do, they won’t care.”
Batman’s dick was out, and—the fucking sicko—it was growing hard as he thought about what was going to happen. His greasy fingers worked on my jeans next, and my mouth clamped shut.
I wasn’t going to shout. I wasn’t going to scream. This…this was awful, a thing of nightmares, but really, in the grand scheme of my life, it wasn’t nearly as bad as realizing that my boyfriend was a fucking serial killer and that he wanted me to kill with him.
The bitch could try to kill me, could have everyone in this fucking house have a go at me, and I wasn’t going to break. I would not.
And when I got up? When I dusted off my clothes and stood on my own two fucking feet? Oh, that bitch better sleep with both eyes open, because when I came for her, I was going to make her wish she was dead.
Hell had no wrath like a girl who’d dated a serial killer.I’d learned from the best.
Batman’s greedy hands were on my underwear, about to slide the panties down. His dick was hard, bulbous, and ridiculously hairy, and I was about to string together a series of curse words when the basement door flew open. Batman paused, but Brooklyn didn’t want to stop this show. She wanted it to keep going, and she wanted to watch me be violated in the worst way.
“The basement is occupied!” She shouted, but heavy footsteps were coming down, and within a moment, we all saw who it was. “I said…” She stopped, her eyes widening. She released her hold of my arms, and I immediately punched Batman in the throat, as hard as I could and as fast as I could.
Batman stumbled back, falling off me as he grabbed his throat, coughing and choking for air. I wasn’t strong enough to break a windpipe, but I was good enough to hurt it.
My savior was totally unexpected, someone who shouldn’t even be here. Someone who might be stalking me, but someone I knew wasn’t so cruel: Travis. Hell, I took that back as he moved around the stairs, shadows dancing across his face as he shot glares at Brooklyn and Batman. He looks hella cruel right now.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Brooklyn hissed as I hurriedly pulled up my pants and got to my feet. “Did Sawyer invite you, or this bitch?” She threw a look at me, and I could do nothing but stare at her, mouth agape.
Sawyer? What the fuck did Sawyer have to do with any of this? Sawyer wasn’t here…was he?
“But—” Whatever else I was going to say was stolen from my lungs the moment I felt a big, burly guy tackle me to the hard ground. Pain exploded in my body, and I temporarily saw stars. Being hit by a car and then tackled by a football player wasn’t exactly two things you should do within a week of each other.
One week. That’s all it’d been. What the fuck?
He had me good, and his dick was still out, too—though it had lost its hardness. I could feel it on my ass as he pinned me down, growling like some kind of rabid animal. I didn’t have to worry though, because Travis kicked his side, sending him rolling off me.
As I got up, Travis and Batman were a mess of limbs. Batman was wild and chaotic, but every movement Travis made was deliberate, almost as if he anticipated the moves Batman was about to make before making them. Like he’d been in this sort of fight before. His tattooed arms flexed, but now wasn’t the time to check him out.
Now, as I watched the men fight—or, rather, watched Travis beat up Batman—I couldn’t help but wonder just how close he was to Ray. Travis was capable of so much violence, it turned out.
Panic set in, true panic. Had I traded one psycho for another?
