In the living area was an ancient, couch that might once have had a flower pattern, but was now so worn and marked it was hard to say what was a flower and what was a stain on the faded fabric. Across from it was a small table covered in trash and two rickety kitchen chairs that looked like they might fall apart if someone sat on them too hard. The floor was littered with liquor bottles, beer cans, and candy wrappers of all kinds.
There was dirt and other unidentifiable substances ground into the grimy shag carpet which might once have been green but was now a muddy brown. Piles of clothes lay in random heaps, none of them clean. In short, it looked like a complete shithole, as her mamma would have said, Christine thought.
And now she was a prisoner here.
Well, not for long! she told herself. She might have been disarmed but she wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
She renewed her struggle to get free of the youngest and strongest Fenster brother—damn, the boy was built like an ox!
“Let me go! Let…me…go!” she panted as she tried to kick him. But Dweebo kept dodging away or just absorbing her blows, which really didn’t seem to hurt him much at all.
“Set her in a chair and tie her down,” Mike Fenster snarled, seeing the difficulty his younger brother was having holding onto her.
As he spoke, he shoved Jenny into one of the rickety kitchen chairs. Grabbing a black zip-tie from the mass of litter on the table, he pulled her hands behind her back and fastened them together with the tough plastic tie.
Jenny gasped during this operation but didn’t say a word. Her big blue eyes were wide and frightened and she was still crying silently, Christine saw.
Dweebo—she wondered distractedly what his real name was—shoved her into a chair at the same time. As soon as Mike Fenster finished securing Jenny, he grabbed another zip-tie and stomped over to Christine.
“Oh, no—you’re not doing that to me!” she exclaimed. Kicking out, she caught him in the knee—which was too bad, since she’d been aiming for his balls.
“You bitch!” Mike Fenster lunged forward and backhanded her across the face.
Christine’s head rocked back on her neck and she suddenly saw stars as her vision winked in and out for a moment. She had never been hit like this before and it stunned her—quite literally took her breath away!
In the moments it took her to recover, Mike Fenster had zip-tied her hands behind her back, just as he had done with Jenny. Then he stood back, glaring at her.
“There, you bitch—you’re not goin’ nowhere now!” he announced.
Christine’s ears were still ringing and the side of her face ached. She could taste blood where his blow had busted her lip and she felt sick to her stomach. Still, she wasn’t ready to just give up.
“You’re never getting away with this,” she told Fenster, wishing her voice sounded less shaky. “The Sheriff will be here eventually.”
“Yeah, but like I said, not before I get to do what I want with you two. Now which one do I want to fuck first?” He grinned, eying first Christine and then Jenny, who turned her head and refused to look at him.
“You take me and leave her alone,” Christine said at once. Being raped by the disgusting asshole in front of her would be horrible, but she couldn’t sit by and just watch as Jenny was violated. She was too delicate, too young—Christine was afraid she would never get over it.
Mike Fenster leered at her.
“Oh, so you think I should fuck your saggy pussy while I let Dweebo here shove his dick into sweet little Jenny’s tight snatch? She’s pretty, right little brother?” he said to his brother, who had come around to stand beside him.
Dweebo was wearing a muscle shirt, as always, that showed off his bulging biceps. There was an eager expression on his rather dull face as he looked at the weeping girl.
“Yeah—I get to fuck ‘er first!” he exclaimed, like a kid whose been told he gets the first bite of a candy bar. He leaned down to leer into Jenny’s face but she gave a muffled sob and turned her head away, not meeting his eyes.
Christine saw it was time to switch tactics.
“You don’t dare touch a hair on that girl’s head—either one of you,” she snapped. “She’s a minor and you’ll both go straight to prison! They’ll lock you up and throw away the key.”
“Prison?” Dweebo’s dull face turned from an expression of eager lust to dismay. “You didn’t say nothin’ about prison, Mike,” he protested, turning to his older brother. “I don’t wanna go to prison—that month I spent in jail that time after you made me say I was driving when we wrecked was enough for me! Nun-uh—don’t wanna go back!”