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“I should go. But you really should try talking to Joanie. And soon. I don’t think she’s the one that trashed your room either. Come find me after you talk to her. But I don’t feel right saying anything until you do, Fallon.” With that, Harper walks off in the direction we came in from, leaving me alone. A cool breeze passes by me, and my skin chills.
I’m not talking to that old bitch. There must be answers around here somewhere.
Chapter9
Fallon
The more I search, the more questions appear with no answers to follow. After Harper left me, I came back to the house, deciding to leave Joanie to whatever the fuck it is she was doing. My brain is begging me to leave. My gut is telling me this is where I need to be. I need answers. No matter what is trying to push me out or who.
My dad always said trust your gut, so I am. Nothing will get in my way.
I’m freshly showered. The redness on my cheek has faded. While the bruise on my neck is more vibrant, and my headache is almost gone. Wrapped in my towel, I walk back to my room. It’s still a mess, but it’s a mess I’ll take care of tomorrow.
Then, out of nowhere, my spine shivers, causing the hairs on my arms to rise and goosebumps cover my body. It's the same cool breeze washing over me that I’ve felt over the past couple of days. My heart begins to race. It’s going to happen again. I just know it. Bracing myself, I wait. But nothing happens.
Looking around, I lower my guard. I’m not a paranoid person and I refuse to let this place make me one. Then something catches my attention in my peripheral vision.
Refusing to look, “Who. Are. You?” Is all I can think of to say. But the room remains quiet. It wants me to see it.
Quickly, I turn around, hoping to catch it off guard, but nothing is there. What the… I swear I saw something. Turning back around, I do not expect to see what I do. Within an inch of my face, there is a man staring down at me. My mouth opens in fear, but nothing comes out.
His skin is more pale than mine. He has thick dark eyebrows and messy white blonde hair hanging over his forehead. Cold blue eyes stare down at me. He has no visible facial hair, and his thin lips are expressionless. Scanning down the length of his body, he has to be at least 6 feet tall. His frame filling a black tee, distressed black skinny jeans and worn combat boots. A couple of thin bracelets line his wrist and he stinks of weed. He isn’t thin, but isn’t built either. His fingernails have chipped black polish on them.
Moving my eyes back up his body, I realize he is so close to me I should be able to feel his breath invading my space. Watching his chest, it doesn’t move. Not even once. My eyes widen, as I meet his. He tilts his head slightly, and I’m not sure what to expect next. He stands like this for a few moments, while neither of us speaks or moves. I don’t think I could move even if I wanted to.
Before I am even able to register what is happening, my body is spun around so my back is to him. His cold hands grip my wrists, and he holds them behind me. Once he has them gripped in one hand, I hear the sound of his zipper lowering.
“No, no, no. Please don’t do this.” I plead as tears well in my eyes.
There’s nothing but silence behind me. Instead, he pushes me forward so I am bent at the waist and my chest is against the mattress. The towel is moved up past my waist and then I feel the pressure of his free hand holding my head down. He kicks my legs apart with his leather boots, and it stings against my skin. Then, without warning, he thrusts into me. Showing no restraint. His movements are fast and hard. The sound of our skin slapping against each other echoes around the room. I haven’t had sex in almost a year. The intrusion of his cock hurts, my body wasn’t given any time to adjust to his size. He has to notice how tight I am, but he doesn’t care.
Tears silently run down my cheeks. I focus on one spot on the wall and start to zone out. My body isn’t responding, but that doesn't stop him as he continues to work himself inside of me repeatedly. Just as I begin to hope it will end soon, he grunts and whispers, “Fuck,” into the room. I feel his release coating my walls. Warm cum fills me as he works himself through his orgasm. His thrusts begin to slow, and he lets go of my head as he thrusts one final time inside me. Pulling out, I can feel his cum dripping out of me and the sound of his zipper being pulled up fills the silent room. He pulls me up by my wrists, which he still has a hold on, and brings his lips up to my ear; his touch is cold as he brushes his lips alongside the outside of my ear. He nips on my lobe, then whispers, “You shouldn’t have come here. Stupid little girl. I’m going to fucking destroy you.”
“I’ll leave,” is my response. It is the only thing I can think of which will make this stop. Instead, it only encourages a laugh out of him.
“I’d like to see you try.”
Then he's gone. His cold touch on my wrist is nothing more than phantom. The pressure of his body against mine disappears. I begin to shake, and I’m sure it's in shock like it was last night. Then something clicks in my head. There was something very familiar about him. I’ve seen him before. Rushing over to the shelves, I grab my photo album that is still on the floor and begin flipping the pages. I know it's in here. My towel falls to the ground, but I don’t care. What more could happen to me that hasn’t already? That’s when I see it. Stopping on the page where my dad is in his graduation gown in Port Canyon’s town center. Next to him is his big brother. His big brother died over thirty years ago after driving his car off the town's only bridge in or out.
How is this real life? This is something you only see on TV. The person that just force fucked me, is my uncle.
That was Merrick!
Rubbing my bruised neck, I wonder, was this him too? But how?
Why is this fucking town so weird? My dad never talked about his place, said it was better forgotten than remembered. This place was my last resort. Shit.
Fuck your threats, Merrick.
He is just as miserable as Joanie. Neither of them will win.
I am not leaving Port Canyon until I get some fucking answers.
Chapter10
Merrick
Fallon’s pussy was as dry as the fucking desert. I haven’t fucked in thirty years and that was my grand return to it.
