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Mara shook her head, tears flowing down her cheeks. Angrily, she wiped them away with the back of her hand. Fuck you, Alex. Fuck this place.
She gasped, shocked at the words that had just entered her mind without her permission. What was happening to her? She needed to breathe. To calm down. To say her mantra, to let it remind her of what she was, of where she belonged, of why she existed. She closed her eyes, willing the protective words to wrap around her senses.
I exist to serve… I am a cunt…
No. No. I am Mara. I exist for me.
Stop it. Say the words. Why do you exist?
I exist to serve, to suffer, to please and obey.
Yes. That’s it. Go on. Say it.
I am a cunt, a piece of ass.
Mara’s brain stumbled, the words sliding away. What was next? What was next?
She was distracted by the scene going on a few yards away. Raeanne’s ass and the backs of her thighs were covered in dark red welts, her arms still held high overhead by the curly-headed buffoon. Another wave of rage and hatred crashed over Mara’s senses. She clamped her mouth shut to keep from screaming. Her hands were clenched into fists, and she was glad for the distraction of her fingernails digging painfully into her palms.
Finally, the disgusting old man seemed to tire of whipping a defenseless woman. He lowered his arm, letting the whip fall to the ground. DJ gestured with his free hand toward something nearby.
The guy moved to what Mara now saw was a backpack, larger than the ones she and the other girls had been given. Tied to its side was what appeared to be a long aluminum cane. Jesus, were they going to beat Raeanne with that thing?
When he held it up, however, she saw it was more like a ski pole. At DJ’s direction, he telescoped the cane to three times its original length, screwing it at the breaks into one long, sturdy pole, perhaps eight feet long.
Keeping the pole in one hand, Jed pulled several small skeins of rope from the pack and stood, moving toward Raeanne. DJ let go of Raeanne’s wrists, but only long enough to pull them together in front of her. Both men moved in, obscuring Mara’s view, though she could guess what they were doing with the rope. Then DJ pushed on Raeanne’s shoulders and she sank to the ground.
Mara closed her eyes, not wanting to witness Raeanne’s inevitable rape, but after a moment she opened them again, aware she had to remain vigilant in case either man became somehow aware of her presence. To her surprise, instead of one of the men climbing onto the supine girl, they were binding her wrists and ankles to the aluminum pole.
Mara could hear the men laughing, the sound coarse and guttural to her ears. The older man’s words were inaudible from where she hid, but DJ’s loud voice carried in unwelcome snippets. “…Told you she can take a beating… Oh yeah, don’t you worry, she lives for this shit. This girl loves it all, don’t you, babe?”
As far as Mara could tell, Raeanne didn’t reply, but the men didn’t seem to notice or care. When she was fully bound, each man grasped one end of the pole and crouched, placing a shoulder beneath it. As they stood, each with an end of the pole on his shoulder, Raeanne was lifted between them, tethered to the pole by her wrists and ankles like a gutted animal.
The men began to walk, Raeanne swaying in her bonds, her eyes wide with fear. Her lips were pressed tightly together, as if she’d promised herself she wouldn’t make a sound, and if it was possible, Mara’s heart broke a little more for her friend.
I’m so sorry, Raeanne. I’m sorry I can’t help you. I’m sorry I can’t kill those men with my bare hands for what they’re doing to you. The sudden image of DJ, big hulking, brutal, stupid DJ, naked and trussed like a hog on that pole almost made Mara smile. Bullies were cowards when you scratched just beneath their false machismo. Unlike brave, stoic Raeanne, he would probably squeal like an actual pig.
The men moved slowly through the brush with their prisoner until they disappeared from Mara’s sight. Mara tried to feel satisfaction at the knowledge she was the last one standing. She tried to tell herself Alex would be proud of her achievement, but the sentiment was hollow. She didn’t care what Alex thought. The realization was both terrifying and freeing.
She didn’t want to be caught. Not now, not ever.
Cautiously, she eased from her hiding place and stood, getting her bearings. The air had grown humid and oppressive. Looking up, she saw the sky had filled with clouds, some of them dark and fat with the promise of rain. A flash of lightning lit the clouds in the distance, followed by a rumble of thunder.
