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Screw self-perseverance, I'll do whatever it takes to get back to them.
Headlights appear out of the abyss of night, the beams only feet from illuminating us. The man lowers the knife and wraps both arms around my midsection from behind.
I wonder if that's Wolf driving to our meeting spot.
How long will he wait before thinking I ghosted him?
With the threat of the weapon gone I have to move quickly.
Mustering all the courage I can, I flail my arm in the air in an attempt to catch the driver's attention and flag them down, but the man pins them tightly against my body before I’m seen.
“I told you not to fucking move. The situation will only worsen if you don't listen,” he hisses and presses the knife's blade back into my flesh.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
God, I’m so stupid. How did I think I could do this, do something so frivolous with my life? I’m about to die and I’m going to leave my kids motherless.
“Please don’t hurt me. I have three children, and I'm all they have,” I say, gritting my teeth to keep my bottom lip from trembling.
His movements still for a moment as if he’s considering my words. He must have a soft spot for kids, because almost instantly he removes the blade from my neck.
Small victory. Just as I’m about to let myself experience a bit of hope, it shatters when he begins to drag me back among the cover of trees.
“If you let me go , I promise I won’t tell anyone. I haven’t seen your face. Just let me go and we can pretend this never happened.” I plead.
My head is jerked around as he harshly yanks on my ponytail, pulling tiny strands of my hair with it. My scalp burns like it's being pricked by a million tiny needles. He’s using it as a leash, establishing that he is in charge and I’m completely at his mercy.
He throws something over my head, and I swallow the lump forming in my throat. It’s rough in texture and constricts my face. I can’t see anything but darkness.
What the hell is that?A t-shirt, maybe?
It has an odd yet intoxicating scent of campfire smoke and aftershave.
He yanks me back again by the base of my ponytail, and his lips caress my ear with each word, he growls, “I don’t give a fuck what you have at home. You’re mine now, Bambi.”
Bambi? This definitely isn’t Wolf. And what does he mean by,I’m his?
“There are only two ways to get out of this. Either I lose interest in the chase, or I catch and slowly defile every inch of your body until you're begging me to stop.” My heart is almost pounding from my chest. The only thing I’m begging for him to do is let me go. “On second thought,” he growls, jostling me so that his lips brush the base of my neck, “you’d probably beg for more like the filthy little whore you are.” His words are sinister and although I can’t see his face, I know he’s grinning as he says them. He’s enjoying this.
I wonder, what will happen if he loses interest?
Do I get to go home?
Regardless, it has to be better than him defiling me.
“No, please,” I plead, begging him to let me go. “I. I. I don’t want this. This. This isn’t what I wanted,” I hold the sides of my head, trying to keep the strands of my hair from pulling free from my scalp.
His warm breath fans over me again and there’s a wet smack as if he’s licking his lips then he says, “No one innocently plays in the dark expecting to make it home unsullied, Bambi. The monsters aren’t under your bed. They are right here among the shadows, ready to snatch you up.”
My eyes burn from tears I refuse to shed for this creep. I wanted this, but not with whoever this is. My chest hurts but there’s an ache even deeper, touching my soul. Where’s my wolf?
Without being able to fight back, he grabs both of my wrists with one of his massive hands and pushes me forward while still holding my hair by the root.
Teetering blindly forward, I rely solely on him guiding me by a fistful of my hair, resembling a reverse reign.
Rain continues to pour down around us with no regard to my current situation. Not even Mother Nature cares that I’m in danger. The cloth is so wet now that water and whatever else on the shirt is dripping into my mouth. I can’t breathe through my nose anymore for fear of waterboarding myself.
Oh my god, I'm going to puke. I need to get this shit off my face. But I don't know how I’m going to do that with my hands restrained behind my back. I scrunch my nose in hopes it will lift from my mouth, but it doesn’t.
