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I feel vomit rise to the back of my throat, but I manage to hold it back. This situation is bad enough without me vomiting all over myself. I look over at Frank, noticing the sweat-stained shirt and the rancid body oder that’s filling the cab, and it doesn’t take a genius to know that a little bit of vomit isn’t going to stop a man like him.
He keeps his hand on my thigh, slowly bringing it higher and higher until his fingers are brushing at my panties. My whole body is shaking, every muscle tense with fear. I’ve never been more scared in my life. Roman is the only man to ever touch me, and I hate that this jackass is just going to take whatever the hell he wants from me, like I’m nothing, just someone to be used and discarded like trash.
Rage rips through me. What fucking right does he have to touch me like this? The moment he brushes my panties aside and runs his dirty finger over my slit is the moment I realize with absolute certainty that I would rather die than let him inside me. A scream builds within my chest, a rage-filled, primal sound that makes him jump when I release it, filling the air around us. He pulls his hand back, and after a second, he laughs.
“Oh, you’re going to be fun to break, little one.”
My breaths are erratic, my heart racing far too fast, and when he pulls down a side road, I can’t help but wonder how many minutes of life I have left. Ten? Twenty? I don’t know, but I know I don’t regret a single second I spent with Roman, even if it led me to this. He’s the only good thing in my life, and with him I felt loved and treasured, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Unconditional love, it’s worth dying for. I would give my life for his again and again. I just hope my death doesn’t destroy him. I hope he’ll keep fighting to find his sister, and I hope he at least gets a happy ending with her. I just wish I could’ve been there to see it.
Frank parks the truck near a line of other vehicles in front of a large, two-story farmhouse. The place looks deceivingly peaceful, and that puts me on edge, because nothing about what’s happening screams this is just a nice, quiet place in the country. If anything, it has horror movie vibes that are more on the level of you’ll wish for death long before you get it.
As soon as Frank opens his door, I open mine, kick off my heels, and bolt. It’s a stupid plan, I know it is, but my only other option is to walk inside with him, and I can’t fucking do that. My bare feet hit the dirt, and I run as fast as my short legs will take me, but even without the stilettos, I don’t make it far. Before I’ve even hit the bend in the driveway, Frank’s arm grabs my shoulder and jerks me around. I lose my balance as momentum keeps me spinning, and I land on the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of me.
“Fucking bitch,” he growls, trying to catch his breath before he gives one hell of a smoker’s cough. When he spits out a long string of phlegm, I turn my head and lose my supper. He lets out another curse when he sees me puking, but I’m helpless to stop. My stomach tenses with each retch, and by the time I’m done, my throat is raw, and tears are covering my face.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and look up at Frank. He glares down at me, hands in fists and eyes narrowed in anger.
“You think a little vomit is going to stop me from fucking you?” He gives a harsh laugh. “I know you can’t understand a word I’m saying, but,” he says, grabbing his crotch, “you understand this, don’t you, little bitch?”
He starts to rub himself, making low grunting noises and then laughs when he sees the look of horror on my face. I gag again, but there’s nothing left for my body to give, and when he reaches towards me, I get on my hands and knees and try to crawl away. My nails dig into the dirt when he grabs my ankle. I try desperately to grab on to something, anything, but all it gets me is a couple of broken nails.
“You like this?” he asks, pulling me towards the house by my ankles. “You like being dragged around like the trash you are?”
I flail my arms around, trying to find purchase, but there’s nothing I can do. My dress rides up, my ass and back burn from the friction of the hard ground I’m being dragged across, and when I try to kick him, he grips my ankles tight enough to bruise. When we reach the porch steps, he lets go just long enough to reach down and grab me and throw me over his shoulder. I punch at his back, but he ignores me and runs his hand up my thigh. When I freeze, he laughs and opens the front door.
“Look at the new toy I brought for us to play with.”
As soon as I hear those words, I realize this hell just got a whole lot worse. It was bad enough when I thought it was just Frank, but there are others here, and when Frank turns around to shut the door, I see four men in total. Two are sitting on the couch playing video games, one in a baseball cap is sitting in a chair watching them, and the last man just came back from the kitchen carrying cans of beer. They all stop what they’re doing to stare, and when they start to smile, I start to lose my resolve.
I’m not going down without a fight, I remind myself. I’m fucked either way, so I might as well give them hell. My mind repeats these phrases, trying like hell to keep me motivated, but the truth is I’m terrified. I’m scared of fighting back. I’m scared of the pain it will bring. I know I’m going to die here, but if I give them what they want, then maybe it’ll be a quicker, less painful death. I feel like a coward for even thinking it, but there’s no sugarcoating it; I’m scared shitless.
The man with the beer gives me a wink and steps closer. “A black bracelet? Someone’s been a bad girl.”
Frank laughs. “She doesn’t speak a word of English, but I think she understands things well enough, don’t you, sweetheart?” he asks, giving my ass a squeeze. When I start to struggle again, he laughs even harder. “She’s going to be feisty. I wonder how long it’ll take to break the fight out of her. Maybe when she takes three of us at once?”
Oh my god. My heart races so fast I feel lightheaded, and as soon as he sets me down, I don’t think. I just run. I make it to the stairs, but as soon as I hit the third step, I’m tackled from behind. I scream when my body hits the hard wood, just managing to get my hands in front of my face before my head hits the stair.
The man who picks me up is the one who’d been holding the beer, and when he drags his fingers up my body, I wiggle to break free. He grips my chin and turns my face to his, but then he pulls back.
“She smells like vomit, man,” he growls at Frank.
“Yeah, she threw up in the driveway. Who gives a fuck? Just get her dress off.”
“No way, man. You might not have standards, but I do.”
The man hauls me into a bathroom and grabs a toothbrush. He slathers it in toothpaste and hands it to me. I desperately want to brush my teeth, but I’m also not crazy about using his toothbrush.
“Brush your teeth,” he says in a volume that’s way too loud, because that’s how you magically get someone to understand another language, as he mimes brushing his teeth.
When he raises his hand like he’s going to smack me, I grab the toothbrush. There are bigger battles to fight here, and this sure as hell doesn’t seem like one worth wasting energy on. I brush my teeth while he watches, and when I’m done, I grab the bottle of mouthwash, hoping it’ll wash away any germs I just got from sharing a brush with him.
“Good girl,” he praises, and it makes me want to punch him. The only man I want saying that to me is Roman.
I turn to look at him. His dark blonde hair is more on the shaggy side, the hair on his face looks like he hasn’t shaved in at least a week, but there’s no denying how fucking normal this guy looks. Frank is the kind of guy that women look at and inwardly cringe. There’s something gross about him, something unsettling, something that makes you want to stay away, but this guy could easily be the neighbor you say hi to or the coworker you always stop and chat with. I want to ask him what in the hell happened to turn him into a raping monster, but I can’t. I have to stand here and pretend I have no clue what he’s saying.
When I turn to leave the bathroom, he steps closer, pinning me against the counter with his body. I feel how hard he is, and when I keep trying to wiggle away, he moves his hips, grinding against me. His face doesn’t look so normal right now. I can see the darkness starting to take over, the crazed look in his brown eyes, the part that he likes to keep hidden wanting to come out and play.
“Easy,” he whispers, bringing his hand to my cheek. “Maybe I want you to myself for a little bit.”
