“Where the fuck is she?” I’ve heard the venom in that voice before.
“We have a few more places to check, Boss.” That’s a new one.
“Slut’s probably out slutting.” The man from last night chuckles that same, awful scratchy sound as I remember. “We’ll just have to wait right here for when she comes home.”
Why is he here? And who has he brought with him?
Fear-fueled tears spring to my eyes, the situation I’m in getting more desperate by the second. I left my phone on my bedside table without thinking, and now I’m stuck in a closet. Maybe if I can wait it out until morning, they’ll leave. It’s just after midnight, so only like five or six hours to sit and stew in my panic.
Having a strange car in my driveway isn’t unusual, but it still being there on a Monday morning will be. I never miss work, not even when I’m ill. I have student loans to pay off, a mortgage to deal with, and I want to travel, dammit.
Banging and shuffling outside my hiding place makes me hold my breath, my body completely frozen.
“Have you checked the closet, Boss?”
No, no, no, no, no, no, no…
I close my eyes and the first tears fall down my cheeks.
“There she is.” A large hand slams down on my head and pulls me up by my hair before a heavy palm smacks around my face and my stomach drops. “Look at me, bitch.”
I see him now, the same features I didn’t pay much attention to last night all scrunched up in a demented anger.
“Little Miss Cock Tease, did you really think I’d let you get away with leaving my balls blue?”
Okay, I’m scared, yes, my whole body shivering with adrenaline or fear or both, but what the fuck? The entitlement of this prick.
“I fucking owe you nothing!” I scream the words into his face.
His hand is still in my hair, pulling it taut in a way that is not fun or sexy. My survival instincts must be somewhere else right now, the adrenaline winning over the fear, because I can’t help spitting in his face as he snarls. Remembering the baseball bat in my hand, my frozen body comes back to life and I yell, swinging the bat at his arms first, which removes his grubby hand from my head. Then I keep hitting him, his ribs, his back, and I gear up for a huge swing for his head, forgetting the other person in the room who is quick to stop me.
The bat won’t move from where I’m holding it above my head because the mountain of a man behind me now has it in his grasp, so I let go and make a run for the bedroom door. Only to get stopped by another mountain in a black suit.Why are they wearing suits?
“Cunt needs to learn some fucking respect.” Tiny Dancer stands from where he was hunched over, and I’m considering the fact that his nickname is really not fitting at all. It was supposed to be funny, reminding me of the song I’ll forever hate because of this man, but now it feels too cutesy. Tiny Prick, maybe. Tiny Balls, because beating up a woman in the middle of the night is what all the big, strong men do…not.
Mountain One and Two double-team me, and each grips one of my arms as Tiny Balls approaches, a bleeding gash on his temple. I don’t recall getting his head, but I’m proud of the damage I caused all the same. I want to do it more, over and over again.
My tank top and shorts PJ combo is torn from my body, leaving me frazzled and bare in front of these three evil men. I have no way out of this, no more weapons, no skills, no fucking friends.
I’m screwed.
The moment Tiny Balls steps closer to me and touches my naked breast with his clammy palm, I want to curl up and die. He squeezes, way too hard, and I cry out in pain, praying to whatever deity will listen that this will be over quickly.
At some point, I passed out. I don’t know whether to be thankful or not that I can’t recall everything they did to me and my house. My vagina feels hot and raw, my body beaten and broken, and my mind is…I have no idea. I think I’m in shock. No amount of education and knowledge can ever prepare you for this feeling of loss, like something has been taken from you and you’re not sure you’ll ever get it back. A piece of your very essence stolen.
Sitting up at the bottom of my stairs, I dare to look at the damage caused to everything I have worked my ass off to own. My back feels bruised, my ankle swollen, and I think I can recall being pushed down the stairs when they were finished, just before they walked out the front door without a care in the world.
I need my phone.
The cops will have more than enough DNA evidence from my body, regardless of the threats from those men to come back and finish the job if I report them. I manage to drag myself about halfway up the stairs before I see it, and my hope deflates in an instant. My cell is on one of the steps, crushed…useless.
Tears flow freely down my cheeks in despair. This is so fucked it’s almost unreal. I’m angry, I’m scared, and a whole other heap of emotions along with it. Confusion doesn’t even begin to explain how my brain is feeling while trying to process everything.
The neighborhood is supposed to be safe, and now Tanner’s worry about danger coming here because of me has come true. I need to get help but I’d give our older neighbors a heart attack if I showed up on their doorstep at almost two in the morning, which leaves me with one option.
Tanner Black.
I’ll eat my weight in humble pie if I have to. It’s better than dying alone in my house because I’m too stubborn to ask for help.
