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"Let's see what body you’re hiding under those clothes. Didn't your mother ever tell you girls shouldn’t try and dress like men?"
I want to respond that I haven't seen my mother since I was little girl, but I don’t think it would be useful in this situation. I had a random thought that she hadn’t been able to teach me very much before she disappeared. But that was obviously the insane part of me speaking since a rational person wouldn’t have even thought of something like that at a time like this.
He begins to pull on my shirt to try and rip it off, and I’m unleashed. Like a wildcat, I scratch and claw, coursing my nails against whatever skin I can get a hold of. He growls as I draw blood on his face, and he grabs a small dagger from around his waist.
He lashes out with it, shredding my shirt and a piece of my shoulder in the process. I cry out in pain. Blood starts seeping through my shirt. He pauses for a second and just stares at me with a hungry grin as if the blood seeping from my shoulder has turned him on. He pushes me to the ground. I can feel the cold of the ground soaking into my back. He presses his heavy boot against my throat as he leans over me. I try to gasp in breaths.
He uses the knife again to tear the rest of my shirt until it falls to the ground. I’ve never felt such vulnerability as I do laying there in nothing but a bra and my jeans.
He examines my plain black bra closely with admiring eyes.
"I've never seen this contraption before," he comments tracing the top of my breasts with the tip of his finger. I thrash against him once again, but I’m powerless as he presses down harder on my neck.
"I have to say I like how this looks on you. I think I'll like what’s underneath even better though," he murmurs with a smile.
The brunette guard is still standing by the cell door, shifting his weight around nervously. He peeks his head out the cell door to check that the hallway is still clear.
"Hurry up and finish... then it's my turn. And then we need to get out of here," he says, a mix of fear and excitement in his voice.
The blonde guard laughs and looks over at him. "I'm not gonna hurry my time with this pretty little thing. Besides, everyone in the palace is asleep at this time of night."
He takes the knife and begins to saw at the middle strap of my bra. Despite the fact that I’m bleeding, and my windpipe feels like it’s going to be crushed, I start to try and fight back again. I’m forced to stop when his boot pushes all the way down and I lose the ability to breathe at all.
I weakly cry out when his knife finishes popping open the front of my bra and my bare breasts are open for his perusal. I cover my chest with my hands.
My face turns red in shame and disgust. Tears stream down my face as I start to plead, "Please don't do this."
He is in the middle of trying to pry my hands away from my chest when footsteps sound down the hall, catching all of our attention and giving me a glimmer of hope. I look out the cell door and see James standing there, his face contorted in rage like I have never seen before.
The brunette guard who was supposed to be on watch by the door has a longsword protruding out of his chest. James pulls it out as the guard sinks to his knees, blood beginning to gurgle out of his mouth. He starts to advance towards us. I can smell the sharp stench of urine as the blonde guard wets himself in fear.
“Your Majesty, we were just…”
“You were just what, going to rape this prisoner? I don't believe that's ever been allowed in this palace since I’ve come to power,” James replies, his eyes glittering with malice and hatred.
“Please your Majesty,” the guard cries out, his words an echo of my earlier pleas to him a moment ago. James doesn’t seem affected though, and without sparing a thought, he lifts his arm and with a fluid swing chops the guard’s head off with one slice.
I gasp. I had never seen that before.
The guard lay sprawled out in front of me, his blood soaking my jeans.
Scarily, I felt that same rush of happiness as I had when I had shot those men dead with Landon. I was glad that these guards would pay for what they had done. Insanely happy in fact.
The room was silent for a moment as James's gaze turned toward mine, regret evident in his features.
Regret soon gave way to hunger as he scanned my body. Looking down I realized that I had forgotten about the fact that I was supposed to be holding the scraps of my shirt over my breasts and they were uncovered at the moment. It was more of my skin then he had ever actually seen.
“Keep yourself covered as much as you can," he ordered. "And what are you even wearing?"
I didn't bother responding that my clothes were the latest rage in the 21st century. I didn't think he would find that amusing at the moment.
“Guard,” he barked down the hall.
It took a few minutes for one to appear, and the guard who did appear, looked incredibly nervous.
"Why were these two down here?" James asks, imperiously gesturing to the bleeding corpses scattered around the prison cell.
The guard shifts guiltily, and I realize that he must have been asked by the other guards to stay away so that they could play with me. The sickness surges up in my stomach. As far as I was concerned, he was no better than them.
