AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As I approach the store on the other side of the street I start to realize I might have just made my way out of this mess, until a voice comes from the side, out of nowhere.
Just before I’m about to cross I spot a man leaning against a street light pole, smoking a cigarette. “They don’t open until seven.”
I prepare to cross the street, realizing it’s a highway with a median in the middle. This isn’t going to be as straightforward as I thought.
“How do I get over there?” I ask him.
“You don’t,” he says, taking another puff as my pulse starts to kick as I feel it in my neck. “You don’t know that if you can’t see or you ain’t from around here. Which is it?”
“I’m just passing through. Thank you. Wish you a nice start to your day,” I say, turning in the other direction, and starting to walk back along the highway. Maybe I’ll find a way to get across further down.
“You pass through, you pay the toll.”
Looking back over my shoulder I know instantly what he refers to. This is a public highway that doesn’t require payment. What he wants also doesn’t require money, but instead something altogether different.
He tosses his cigarette onto the ground, never taking his eyes off me as he puts the tip of his boot on it and then rubs side to side, crushing the last embers of his cancer stick.
“You ain’t gonna last a minute in this world you little rich bitch,” he says just before he takes off running straight at me.
Fuck!
Pushing off with my left heel I take off in a dead sprint, like an Olympic runner out of the blocks. Pumping my hands I run as hard and fast as I can. I hear him wheezing and coughing behind me, but I’m not losing him. Not one bit.
There are maybe fifteen feet between us, and at this point, it’s simply a matter of who gets winded first.
The extra weight of my backpack isn’t helping and I feel like he’s gaining a step on me every ten to fifteen seconds.
The lights alone on the highway seem like the lit highway to hell, where my life is about to take a very wrong, and very violent turn that is going to be hard, or impossible, to recover from. At least not fully.
But I don’t give up, keep moving as fast as I can, scanning the shoulder of the highway for a rock or anything to defend myself with.
Nothing.
I don’t know if it’s the lack of sleep, my circadian rhythm being off, the fact that I’m vertically challenged with small legs, my propensity to avoid the gym and embrace gelato, or what it is, but I start to lose speed.
And he doesn’t.
I hear the footfalls closing in on me and suddenly a hand grabs me by the shirt, slowing me even more, yanking me back into a wiry body.
The smell of those cigarettes, mixed with alcohol smacks me in the face like a stack of unpaid bills. I look down at the thin forearm wrapped around me, seeing needle marks and bruises.
“Keep struggling,” he breathes against me. “It only makes me harder.”
His rapidly swelling cock presses into me before he bends his knees and tries to hoist me over his shoulder. I fight and kick and scream and manage to stay on the ground the first time, but not the second.
My world tilts as I slam my fists into his back, but my world tilts again, in a different way when the man starts to turn toward the side of the road which is not lit only to freeze in his tracks.
The sound I know too well, that motorcycle engine, revs and comes to a stop a few feet from us.
“Put her down now, and I’ll make it quick. You don’t, your death will be dragged out you piece of shit.”
“Fuck you,” the man says, spitting in Sergio’s direction.
Swinging that tree-trunk thick leg over his bike he closes the distance between us, fists at his side after he yanks off his helmet, letting it fall to the ground as he stalks toward us.
The man flips my legs, sending me flying face down toward the concrete. Luckily I’m able to tuck my head and roll, avoiding breaking my neck as I land.
I hear a roar and look back just in time to see Sergio block a punch from the man, grabbing his fist in mid-air and squashing it in that vice grip of his.
