Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
This is a big man. A man I could never take on by myself. Knowing this, I cry harder.
I cringe in disgust when his warm wet tongue licks the side of my face, very slowly. “Oh, shush. You’ll like it. I promise.”
I won’t like shit, you twisted fuck!
He demands, “Close your eyes.”
I don’t listen. I’m being defiant. My eyes remain open.
Then he pushes a blade into my side. Deep. I feel the tip pierce my skin, and I whimper into his dirty hand. “Close your fucking eyes, bitch.”
My body quaking, I shut my eyes and feel his free hand try to tug my pants down. The belt stops that from happening and he barks, “Undo the belt and the pants. Now.”
My shaking hands work slowly, buying time, but I can only do it so long before my hair is tugged, hard. I cry out in pain. The blade disappears a moment before he wraps his forearm around my neck, hand clutching the knife tight, and he moves the blade to rest under my ear. Somehow, in my trembling state, I manage to undo the belt and buttons. He turns me around to press my cheek into the cold bricks on the side of the building, the blade now resting by the side of my throat. Yanking my pants down, he reaches forward then down, and instinctively, I snap my legs shut. His fingers work their way into the juncture between my thighs and he rubs my mound through my panties, making me cry out loudly. His erection presses into my ass cheek, and I cringe so hard my body shudders.
I’m disgusted. This is disgusting.
Tightening his arm around my neck, he hisses, “Shut your mouth and don’t make a fucking sound.” His smell all around me, crying as hard as I am, I gag.
His hand leaves my most intimate place, comes up under my shirt, and squeezes my breast.
My heart weeps with every revolting touch. He fondles my body as he likes, as if I were a toy and not human at all. Sliding his hand down my ribs, he rests it on my hip a moment before he utters, “Oh, man. You’re a pretty one.” He then slips his hand down the back of my panties, squeezes my ass cheeks hard, and my body jerks with every loud, muffled sob.
I’ve never been violated. But I work with people who have. And now I know that every single time I said the words I understand to one of my kids, I didn’t.
Not even close.
I can almost feel my heart shatter.
Suddenly, I’m pulled back harshly. I land on the hard concrete with a dull thud and watch the scene before me in alarm.
My large attacker gets his face slammed into the bricks at the side of the building by an equally tall man.
The black hoodie.
It’s him.
He holds onto my attacker’s neck and throws his head down while he brings up his knee.
Thunk, thump.
He does this again and again. My gut revolts at the level of ferocity before me. Eventually, I hear soft pings hit the ground and realize my attacker has lost some teeth.
Oh God.
The man in the hoodie continues his wordless assault. He throws my attacker on the ground and kicks him in the ribs as if he were kicking a football. He does this a few more times before his eyes catch me.
Breathing heavily, he stops and comes towards me.
Petrified, I watch him come towards me through blurry eyes. He’s almost at my feet when I whisper shakily, “Please, stop. Don’t come any closer.”
My elbows throb; the skin on them surely gone. I try to scramble backwards and cry out in pain.
That’s when he does something I’ve been wishing for forever.
He lowers the hood.
“Not gonna hurt you.”
Oh God. That voice. It’s just how it sounds in my dreams.
Smooth with a little huskiness. Then, something registers with me. “You’re American.”
Not missing a beat, he says, “So are you.” The tone of his voice conveys boredom.
Looking up at him, I still can’t see his face in the dark, but I hear a zipper come down and I whimper out loud.
Choking through tears, I beg, “Please, don’t hurt me. Please.”
Not saying a word, he comes towards me. Trembling, I shut my eyes tight and plead on a whisper, “Please. Please. Don’t.”
His strong arms come under mine and he lifts me to a standing position. He pulls something warm over my shoulders, and its then that I realize the zipper I heard was actually his jacket, not his pants.
I’m so relieved that I slump forward into him.
Burying my face into his chest, he wraps his arm around me while I sob noisily. His body bends and he reaches down. My pants come up my legs and he holds them in place, clearly too torn to zip up.