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I set about the task of setting up supplies for dinner, trying to ignore the men’s lewd comments and inappropriate behavior. But as the night wore on, their behavior only became more outrageous. They drank more and more, their voices growing louder and more slurred with each passing moment.
I built a fire and pulled out the food from my cooler. I typically made simple meals for the trails, stuff that could be easily packed and transported, but tonight, I had decided to go all out. I had brought steaks and potatoes. My mouth watered as I seasoned the meat with salt and pepper. They were a bunch of businessmen from Dallas and were willing to pay top dollar for a fun night—and I needed the cash.
I was hunched over the coal stove, grumbling under my breath while I cooked. My eyes caught glimpses of them out of the corner of my eye, their laughter grating on my nerves.
“Look at her,” one of them snickered, winking at his friend. “She’s a right beauty, ain’t she?”
The comment made my stomach churn. No matter how hard I tried to ignore them, everywhere I turned, their lecherous gazes followed me like shadows.
Then James lurched toward me, his whiskey-scented breath making me recoil. “You look mighty fine, Clover.” His hand shot out and grasped my arm.
My body ignited with rage as I ripped my arm away. “Dinner will be ready soon.” My teeth ground together as I spat out the words. “You should go back and sit down with your friends.”
James’s eyes narrowed and he stumbled backward. A lump formed in my throat as I fought to keep from yelling. If I did, who knew what would happen?
So instead, I forced a smile onto my face and held it there until he returned to his seat. Cautiously turning away, I exhaled and resumed cooking.
Once dinner was ready, the men ate in a blur of laughter and toasts. I sat away from them, listening to their stories, their laughter like wheezing hisses in the darkness.
The orange flames pulsed and danced, lazily licking the underside of the night sky. The jeers and drunken cackles spilled up into the stars, riling my insides with unease. One by one, the men drifted off to slumber, their unconscious bodies sprawled across the soot-laden earth. I let out a breath of relief; my work was done for the night.
With great effort, I mustered what remained of my strength, determined to put an end to the chaotic scene before me. I diligently stamped down on each ember until only gray ash remained.
No more bachelor parties; it was too much work.
I dragged myself back to my tent, sinking heavily onto my sleeping bag. The darkness cocooned me in its cool embrace as I shut my eyes, content with the tranquility that wrapped around me. But as I teetered on the edge of conscious thought, whispers from outside my tent pulled me back to reality.
“I can’t wait to feel her . . .”
My eyelids fluttered open at the sound of a zipper, the pitch darkness enveloping me in its embrace. I felt his presence move closer and closer, his oppressive aura smothering me as he neared. James’s putrid breath filled my lungs as he stood over me, his tall frame was ominous in the tiny space.
He barreled toward me, his face a mask of steely determination. I tried to dodge him, standing on shaky legs until my feet slipped on the floor beneath me. He wrapped one large arm around my waist, and with one powerful movement flung me to the ground. His chest pressed into mine with so much force I couldn’t move, my breathing coming in shallow gasps. I could smell the whiskey on his breath, feel the hardness of his body against mine.
I started to thrash against him, desperation and anger fueling my every movement. My hands flew through the air, slapping and pushing against him as hard as I could. I felt his hot skin beneath my fingers and knew he was trying to take what I wasn’t willing to give.
I tried to fight back, but he was too strong. His fingers dug harshly into my skin with no mercy as he groped and grabbed me forcefully. I screamed out for help but could only hear the howling wind in answer. I suddenly worried that his friends may join him—maybe they’d all have a turn at me before killing me. Hot tears slid down my face as I fought with everything I had.
His movements never faltered, as if he were driven by some dark force beyond his control. He didn’t feel pain. Only damning desire. And it wasn’t lust. It was raw, predatory power. He wanted to claim me because he could.
“Stop fighting, bitch,” he slurred drunkenly into my ear, hot breath on my skin sending chills down my spine. “Take my cock like a good little whore.” Revulsion filled my stomach as nausea hit me like a punch. His weight increased with each passing moment, pushing me further into the floor of the tent.
Practically tearing my shorts from my quivering body, he threw them to the side. He pulled his cock out, the thin greasy thing full of veins and coated in sweat. It was like a knife between my thighs.
He’d already put a condom on.
As if he’d prepared for this.
“No!” I screamed. The muscles in his arms flexed as he forced his shaft toward my entrance, and I didn’t even have time to stop him before he thrust deep inside me, filling me with pain I had never imagined.
It was like he was an expert at rape.
Had taken before.
Had forced before.
Like he knew exactly how to hold me down.
How to force my legs open.
