I fight harder, kicking out with my legs, and when that doesn’t work I drop my weight, but he still doesn’t release me.
“Girl’s got some fight in her,” the second man says. I twist to see him but all I can make out is a dark shadow.
The man holding me grunts and his grip on my throat tightens to the point that I know it’ll leave a bruise. Spots form in my field of vision and I claw at his fingers, desperate for air. “Just means this’ll be more fun.” His hot breath heats the side of my neck and I recoil. What does he mean, more fun? What are they planning to do to me?
Tears track down my cheeks, but I’m not resigned to my fate. Not yet. I try kicking again and this time I manage to hit his knee.
The man holding me curses and the hand around my throat loosens enough that I can finally suck in a deep breath.
I make it count and scream with everything in me. “Help! Somebody help me!”
The fist comes out of nowhere. A crack along my cheek that leaves me reeling.
“Dumb bitch.” He releases me and I crash to the ground, my hands meeting cool grass. I choke on a sob and reach up with a shaking hand to cradle my cheek.
The men don’t give me any time to recover. I’m shoved face first down in the cool, wet grass, my injured cheek pressed hard against the ground. I cry out again but it’s cut off when his hand comes up to cover my mouth. “You’re going to be nice and quiet if you want to leave here alive,” he spits at me. The threat in his voice settles deep in my bones, freezing me in place.
“Please—”
“That’s it. Beg for it.”
I try to shake my head but I can’t move. His weight has me pinned in place. “Please.” I hiccup. “Don’t do this.”
He releases my throat and leans back. His legs straddle my own and his other hand shoves beneath me to release the button of my jeans.This can’t be happening.I struggle against his hold, squirming and kicking, but he’s just so much bigger than me. My struggles make little difference. Deciding I have no other choice, I scream again. “Help. Som—”
Crack!
He grabs the back of my head and slams my face into the ground.Hard.Pain lances through me and sheer terror rips my insides apart.
“I won’t tell you again. Shut the fuck up,” he growls just before tugging my jeans and underwear down, exposing my bare rear to the cold night air.
Panic tightens my throat, but I manage to say, “Why are you doing this?” in a choked-out sob. My head is throbbing and black is quickly filling my field of vision, but I fight to stay awake and aware. I can’t black out. I refuse to pass out and be at their mercy.
The other man is chuckling beside us. “This is a message for dear old dad.” Ice freezes in my veins. “We want to make sure he knows that when he fucks with what’s ours, we’ll fuck with what’s his.”
What?I struggle to comprehend what he’s telling me, but as soon as I feel the other man press himself against my naked rear, my mind blanks.
No. No. No.
One hand pins me down, the other is beside my face as he braces himself against me. I hear the sound of a foil wrapper being torn open followed by more chuckles.
Tears prick the corners of my eyes and I struggle to breathe over the mounting pain in my chest. This isn’t happening.This isn’t happening.I repeat the words over and over again in my head but it doesn’t make them true.
A sharp intrusion makes my stomach lurch. I gasp and without realizing what I’m even saying, I beg him to stop. To let me go. I promise him anything and everything I can think of if he will just let me go. He doesn’t. Fighting doesn’t do anything but make him rougher. He grips me tighter, his hand bruising as he grabs my hips and forces his way inside of me. The other man presses his boot to the side of my face, holding me down.
My breaths are heavy. He moves behind me, grunting like an animal and vomit threatens to rise in my throat.
Everything hurts. My vision continues to swim as I force the bile down. I lock my gaze on his hand and force my mind to think of something, anything else.
The full moon manages to illuminate his tanned skin. The calluses on the side of his thumb. He has short fingernails with a thin line of dirt beneath each of them. I focus on the scars that cover the top of his hand. On the age lines. I force myself to count every hair follicle.
Time passes. I keep counting. I keep tracing the lines on his hand, blocking out the sounds he’s making. And then he stops. I sob in relief as his weight leaves me until he says, “Don’t fucking move.”
I don’t. I keep myself planted on the ground, my breathing shallow and my cheek still mashed against the lawn of the school. I need to move. To run and escape but my limbs are locked and frozen in place. I’m drowning in the realization that I was just—
Then the second man steps closer.
No.The word echoes in my mind before a raw animalistic sound pours out of me. He straddles my hips like the man before him did and I’m already shaking my head as another sob lodges itself in my throat, but just as he reaches for me, a voice speaks out in the distance.
