I try to get up again, but my body feels like it’s trapped under a huge weight and I can’t breathe. I’m gasping and struggling to get free to get air when suddenly the weight is gone from my chest, but it’s on my legs now. I suck in a deep breath and holy fuck, that hurt! I start to panic when I can’t fill my lungs with air and then realize that’s making it worse. Taking little gasping breaths seems to be the only way to breathe without the crushing pain.
I’ve been so focused on breathing that I didn’t even notice my pants are being removed. I kick out, but my legs don’t move,almost like they’re tied down. I try to grab my pants but my arms are frozen too.
What’s happening?
Why can’t I move?
I can’t see anything.
No one’s here.
WHY CAN’T I MOVE?!
“Damn, you look good like this.”
Chad’s sitting on my feet with my pants in his hands.
“Get off me,” I shout, but nothing comes out. My jaw won’t move. A rough hand grabs it, and I almost black out from the shooting pain.
“Looks like his jaw is broken, man. You think I can still fuck it?” Tanner asks as my head lolls to the left, and I see his gorgeous brown eyes. Of course the stupid fuckers have to be handsome.
“Try it?” Mitch says.
“You try it.” My head flops to the right where Mitch rolls it back to Tanner. My stomach roils, and I’m going to puke.
“Fuck no, I’m not going to have him bite my dick off.” Tanner shoves me again, and I vomit all over Mitch.
“That’s it,” a soothing voice says. “You’re home, you’re safe.”
I puke again into a trash can.
I thought I was on the floor?
With those three fucks again.
“It’s me, Brendan, and you’re at home safe in bed.”
“Safe?” I ask.
“Safe,” he whispers, and my eyes open to see him sitting on the floor holding the trash can. “You done, pixie?” He brushes some hair off my forehead.
“Yeah, I think so.” I flop onto my back and huff a laugh when I see the cat poster Brendan put on the ceiling so I would wake up and know I was home.
“Let me get cleaned up and I’ll be right back.”
I want to beg him to stay with me, but the smell of vomit is making me even more nauseous.
“Okay.”
“I’ll be quick.”
When he comes back, he’s got a glass of water and a wet washcloth.
I take a small drink of the cold water and flop back down. Brendan sits beside me and places the cloth on my forehead.
“You want to talk about it?” he asks.
Normally I say no, but… “I was in the classroom on the floor, but I couldn’t see them. I just knew that I was hurt and breathing was hard. Then they appeared and started arguing about who was going to fuck my throat.”
