Page 24 of Grace

His fist slammed into me with a crunch. My jaw cracked but didn’t break. For a second, I lost consciousness. But when his erection pressed to my pubic mound, I screamed into his palm.

“Shhh. Shush,” he whispered as he tore at the fabric between my legs.

It gave way with a ripping sound.

His fingers hooked into my panties and ripped them apart. I heard the clink of his belt buckle, then the grind of his zipper—more than just a sound, it almost felt like a buzz against my skin.

I pressed my hands against his shoulders, trying to push him off me, but his weight pinned me to the ground.

When I felt his penis on the bare skin of my vagina, my eyes widened and I gasped for air.

He spit into his palm—probably intending to use it as lubricant—he stroked his throbbing manhood.

Hot tears stung my eyes. I cried and moaned, and when his hardness touched the place no one had touched before, pressing forward, I tried to scream.

Above the iron door, a lamp flickered on, drawing flying insects in at once. A dark shadow loomed over us—the right side of his face a mask of blood, a lock of dark hair plastered to it, hellfire in his eyes. His wet white T-shirt clung to his body.

I might not have spoken the words aloud, but my eyes—locked in his—begged him to help me. To save me.

As I stared into those lifeless, deep brown eyes, I prayed he hadn’t taken the word monster personally.

Chase raised a sharp knife in his hand and—before Mr. Miller could enter my body—struck. Without a trace of mercy.

The blood-curdling, inhuman howl of my teacher echoed inside my skull. Drops of his thick saliva spattered my face.

Mr. Miller tried to reach the sharp object lodged in his back and pull it out, but Chase was faster. He yanked the bloody blade free and struck again. The weight of my teacher’s body, now rigid, pressed down on me. He pissed himself—which ended up on me. I nearly vomited.

Sobbing, I tried to shove him off me, but Chase held the body in place.

He stabbed him in the back again and again, until Mr. Miller stopped howling—until he bled out.

That night, it felt like the end of more than just his life. He took a part of my innocence with him.

I lay frozen on the cool ground beneath Mr. Miller’s dead weight, staring up at the stars. No one howled anymore, and no one cried anymore. No one moved. Everything around us was silent.

The cracking of twigs and the crunch of leaves told me Chase was moving around us. He tossed a shovel onto the ground beside me, but I didn’t flinch.

He grabbed Mr. Miller by the arm and dragged him off me. I kept staring at the stars—silent. Unmoving. I heard him start to dig, the shovel thudding into the hard soil, scraping against pebbles. I remained there, lying in the same position.

I should have run. But all I wanted was for someone to hold me and comfort me.

A long time must have passed before Chase stepped close again. His clothes were smeared with blood and streaked with mud.

He looked deep into my eyes, but he couldn’t see me—I wasn’t there. In my mind, I was at home. With my parents and my siblings.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his gaze dropping to my torn panties. He was looking for blood.

He hadn’t raped me—if that’s what you’re getting at. You monster, I thought, and didn’t answer. I had to use my head, and I had a feeling I should act as if I were in shock.

And to answer the question: no, I was not okay.

You kidnapped me. My teacher almost raped me. And you… you killed him while he was lying on me, you sick bastard. I didn’t voice this thought either, just kept staring at the stars without blinking.

Chase waited for a few minutes, then left me there.

Idiot, I thought. When he got far enough, I carefully stood up.

My heart was in my throat, my brain buzzed and my body was exhausted. My head was swimming with fatigue, my muscles burned—but my survival instinct proved stronger. I turned and ran.