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“Did you not hear me the first time? I said, ‘get up, bitch.’”
I timidly rose to my feet, holding the brown suede pump behind me. The man was tall and large, dressed from head to toe in all black.
“Y-You’ve got the wrong person.”
“No, I don’t. What are you hiding behind your back?”
Without thinking, I lunged toward him with the shoe, but he grabbed my arm, stopping me.
“Feisty, huh?” He took the shoe and then ripped the towel from me. “I wish I had time to give you a taste of my big cock.”
I shrank back into the closet, nausea rising in my throat, but he pulled me forward, right into his body, my naked skin pressed against the black fabric of his clothing.
“Unfortunately, I’m on a tight schedule.”
&n
bsp; I silently thanked whatever deity was watching over me for this perpetrator’s tight schedule. Surely, I would be raped, beaten, or worse, killed, before this was over, but the short respite seemed like a gift from above.
“Turn around,” he said.
I didn’t, and his fist came into my cheek with a dull thud. Pain surged through my cheek and jaw, and I screamed.
No one had ever hit me before.
I stood, trembling.
“I said, ‘turn around,’ bitch.” He pulled at a length of rope tied to his belt loop.
Rope like I’d seen the “mayor” purchasing at the hardware store in Snow Creek earlier today.
“You want to taste my fist again?” He leered at me.
I turned around slowly, still trembling.
He pulled my hands behind me and tied them together with the rope. I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut. Maybe I was finally getting what I deserved. Whoever this was had probably been sent by Gina Cates’s parents. They wanted to see me suffer. They wanted me to pay for what had happened to their daughter and now for what her mother was going through.
In that moment, I made a rash decision—a decision so foreign to me that I became numb to my attacker’s touch. I would succumb to whatever punishment the universe had in store for me. It was no less than the punishment Gina had endured. In fact, it wouldn’t be nearly as harsh. Maybe I deserved to die, as she had died.
This was my penance for not being able to help Gina. For letting her flounder. For letting her die.
When he was done tying my hands, he pulled me toward him, my back to his chest.
“Do what you want to me,” I said. “I no longer care.”
Something bit my neck, and I jerked around. His ice-blue eyes stared at me.
Ice-blue eyes.
And then they faded…blurry…wavy…
Until the curtain fell.
My mouth was dry. The walls were fuzzy, but appeared to be painted blue—a very light blue. I was on a bed, and my wrists were no longer bound. I was dressed in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, gray, too large. I brought my wrists to my eyes. They were red and chafed from the rope.
Was I in a hotel room?
The man in black sat at a desk, writing something. I closed my eyes. Perhaps it was best to feign sleep. I kept my eyes slitted open enough to see what was going on through my eyelashes.
