***
Hayley wearily trudged down the sidewalk, wishing she didn’t still have ten more blocks to walk before she was finally home. It had been a long, frustrating day. First, she’d had another unpleasant run-in with Christopher and once again he’d acted like a spoiled, whiny child clearly used to getting his way in all things. He’d demanded to know where Hayley was living now, as though he had the right to such knowledge. He’dstomped away outside the school, a look of rage mottling his cheeks that concerned Hayley because she had a feeling he was only going to become more persistent the more she resisted his disgusting advances.
As a result of the ugly encounter, she hadn’t had time to take her violin home and was forced to bring it to work with her, and she was ten minutes late, to the annoyance of her boss, Dan, who was nothing but a lecherous scumbag who thought every woman in his employ was his own personal property, even going as far as to call them “his girls.”
As punishment, she’d been stuck with doing all of the cleanup at closing while he let the other women go home. Shelly, a girl close to Hayley’s age, had been sympathetic and had offered to remain behind to help, but Hayley had told her to go and not to piss off Dan, or she’d be next on his list and hewouldretaliate.
She’d worked as quickly and as efficiently as possible, enabling her to clock out only half an hour late. She snorted and rolled her eyes as she punched her time card, knowing full well she wouldn’t be paid for the extra time. But at least she was done and could head home.
She didn’t like walking home so late in the night, or rather so early in the morning hours after midnight. But she didn’t really have a choice since there wasn’t a subway or bus line that ran close enough from her job to the apartment. Though the city never truly slept, it was quieter, eerie almost, the shadows from the buildings seeming to loom larger, reaching to enfold her in their embrace. She hugged the violin case closer to her chest and firmly pressed her purse between her elbow and her side even as her gaze constantly darted left and right, seeking any possible threat.
The walk home in the dark didn’t usually bother her this much. She wasn’t sure why she seemed so unsettled tonight. But then she had endured a less-than-stellar day, so perhaps her paranoia was merely the resulting fallout from having confrontations with two assholes.
She relaxed when she was five blocks from her apartment buildingand picked up her pace, despite the fatigue beating incessantly at her. Maybe tonight she’d forgo her practice session and get in a few hours of sleep, which she desperately needed. She was so lost in the fantasy of catching up on her sleep that she never heard anyone until it was too late.
Strong arms hauled her back against one of the stone buildings and out of the glare cast by one of the streetlights. When she started to scream, a hand clamped over her mouth and she gagged at the horrible smell and taste of the filthy palm.
“Keep quiet, bitch,” her attacker growled in her ear.
“Ohh, we got us a nice little piece tonight,” a second man said in amusement.
Her heart sank when she realized not one, but three men were preventing her escape. She stood little chance against one, much less three of the street thugs.
Her purse was yanked roughly from her shoulder and one of the men rifled through it, rage mottling his features when he turned it upside down, shaking the contents onto the street.
“Where’s your money, whore?” demanded the man whose arm was now firmly around her throat, nearly cutting off her air.
Tears burned her eyelids. “I don’t have any,” she choked out. “Do I look like I have money?”
“A sweet piece like you?” the third man hooted. “If you don’t have money, then you sure as hell have a sugar daddy who does.”
“Go to hell,” she yelled.
Pain exploded in her face as the one who’d rifled through her purse brutally backhanded her. She could taste blood in her mouth where her lip had split. Warm liquid slithered from her nose, over her lips and to her chin, dripping to the street.
“What have we here?” the third said silkily, wrenching the violin case from her grasp.
“No, please,” she begged. “It’s my violin. I’m a musician. I have to have it to play.”
He opened the case and then swung the violin against the stone wall, laughing when it shattered into pieces. Tears flowed freely and a sense of helplessness and keen grief overwhelmed her. Her violin was all she had left from her father. Without it she couldn’t attend school. Couldn’t pursue her dream. Couldn’t play the music that was so much a part of who she was.
Her head lowered, bowing as tears splattered the ground at her feet, mixing with the blood dripping from her mouth and nose.
“I don’t have anything else,” she whispered. “I have nothing. Please, just let me go.”
The man tightened his arm around her neck until her vision blurred and spots appeared. “Seems to me if you don’t have anything of value for us, then we’ll have to make do in other ways,” he said in a sickening voice that sent chills cascading down her spine.
His hand drifted down her neck to her breasts, roughly fondling them through the thin shirt she wore. Impatient with the barrier, he ripped the shirt and then yanked at her bra, baring one breast to his touch and the other to his friends’ gazes.
“Hell, this is better than money if you ask me,” the third man smirked. “I haven’t had me a piece of ass this sweet in a long time. I want her first.”
Hayley went wild, struggling frantically as the implication of his words sank in. She’d die before she let them rape her right here on the street. She tried to scream but she nearly blacked out when she was struck again.
Two sets of hands groped her roughly, mauling her sensitive flesh. Fingers bit into her nipples, twisting painfully and pulling until she cried out in pain. Once more a dirty hand clamped down over her mouth, rendering her silent as the other two men began tearing at her clothing.When they went to tear her jeans open, she kicked and writhed, desperate in her bid for freedom. A fist rammed into her ribs, completely robbing her of breath. Blackness encompassed her and perhaps she did lose consciousness for a brief moment because the next thing she heard was a terrible sound of fury. Like a wild animal attacking its prey.
Suddenly she was free and she slithered to the ground, her legs too weak to hold her up. She lay huddled there, curling her legs up to her chest in a defensive position as howls of pain erupted and the sound of fists meeting flesh, the cracking of bones breaking drifted to her.
Through her hazy vision, she saw a man systematically taking apart the three men who’d attacked her. He was untouchable, dispatching them with minimal effort. She should have been terrified at the way he meted out violence as if it were second nature to him, and yet she felt... safe.
