Page 7 of Depraved

Oh, God. What’s happening?

Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I tasted the saltiness with the metallic tang of blood. My mind was a whirlpool of the most horrifying thoughts any girl could have. Was this my last night on Earth? Would I die while being beaten and raped? Would pain be the last thing I experienced while my heart still had a beat?

Please, God, no.

The smell of gasoline mixed with burnt rubber was pungent, singeing my nostrils before settling in the pit of my stomach. Nausea was starting to fight its way up my throat as I lay completely still, too scared to move.

The sound of footsteps on the outside of the car made me hold my breath. Dried leaves and tree branches cracked in the distance.

I refused to let out a breath, praying whoever was on the outside of this car wasn’t the last person whose eyes I’d stare into before I died.

There was a loud thump as the lid was popped, and the flashlight burned my eyes.

“Let’s get the girl out of here.”

“Please—” I still tried to plead, to beg. But as I was lifted out, there was a hard jerk, the man falling to the ground, and I was about to fall as well when two arms grabbed me.

“Not so fast, fuckers,” a man snarled beside my face, pulling my back against his chest while cold steel pressed against my temple. It was a gun. The man was holding a gun against my head, and I started to sob uncontrollably.

“Please, God. Don’t do this. Please don’t do this.”

“Put the gun down, man.”

I managed to open my eyes, seeing a tall, well-built man standing across from us. But it was dark. I couldn’t see his face. Yet in that moment, something seemed familiar about him.

“Let the girl go.” The warning was there in his voice, low and menacing.

The man holding me pressed the muzzle deeper into my temple, and I whimpered, pinching my eyes closed. I didn’t want to die. Not like this.

“You have no fucking business here, man. This ain’t got nothing to do with you.” His spit coated my cheeks, his nasty breath filling my nostrils.

“That’s where you’re wrong, prospect. It has everything to do with us.”

“Fuck off!” he yelled over my shoulder. “I swear to fucking God, I will put a bullet in this pretty little head of hers. So back the fuck up.”

“Please,” I started to beg, but he only pressed the gun harder against my head.

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up, bitch!”

I cried. Like a little girl, I sobbed and felt the overwhelming urge to relieve myself. Coming face to face with death was horrifying—especially at the prospect of death taking you so violently and unexpectedly.

“Give me the girl!” the man in the darkness shouted, his voice breaking the eerie silence of night. “If you hurt her, I will feed you to the sharks, piece by fucking piece.”

My captor laughed manically behind me. “Are you sure you want to toss fucking threats around when I’m the one pressing steel against this whore’s head? A whore you seem to really want unhurt.”

Branches cracked in the distance, alerting the man to movement on our right. He jerked in that direction, taking me with him, pulling me harder against his chest. “Who’s there?”

Another guy holding a gun pointed at us emerged from the shadows. “So, here’s the deal. You kill the girl, and I’ll have a bullet inside your skull before you can turn that gun on me or my brother over there.” He gestured to the other man whose face I couldn’t see.

“Onyx, back the fuck up,” the man in the shadows warned.

“I got this, brother.”

“You’ll kill her. Back the fuck up!”

“Nah, you know I never miss a shot.” He moved forward slowly. Carefully. Gun still aimed straight at us.

The man who held me tightened his arm around my throat, and instinctively I grabbed at his forearm. “Both of you fuckers back off, or I’ll kill her. I swear to God.”