Then his pants drop.
Kicking out and screaming in my head, I struggle to escape when he slides his spare hand beneath my dress. Rough fingers, not the same as Kane’s, slide along my panty line and tear them from my body.
I cry out in fear.
Twice, I’ve walked into a dangerous place I knew I shouldn’t.
Twice, I’ve learned my lesson, but only when it was too late.
He brings my torn panties up to his face, and with a feral grin, shoves them in his mouth.
I want to be sick.
I want to die.
I wanthimto die.
Leaving my panties between his teeth so the thong string hangs from his lips like a spaghetti noodle, he brings his spare hand back to my crotch as black dots float in my vision.
Not enough oxygen.
Too much pain.
Too much everything.
My arms and legs continue to jerk, but it’s my body’s dying nervous system and natural reactions, not my fight-or-flight instincts.
No more flying for me.
Just sleep.
Go to sleep and escape before he gets his way.
Like I’m in a tunnel, I watch through the graying mist over his shoulder to avoid looking at his horrible face. I pay no attention to his hungry eyes or my panties hanging from his lips. Those panties touched my most private flesh only a minute ago. Now they touch his tongue.
His hand slides along my ribs on the outside of my dress. Then my thigh. Then up to my bare ass and around to my tightly clenched core.
Don’t let him in.
Don’t give in.
Calloused fingers crawl over my pelvis like scary spider legs, over the small thatch of hair, between the folds and over my clitoris.
It’s not like when Kane touched me. When he was touching me, my skin was on fire with need.More. I wanted more, but my common sense said no. Now, my chest is on fire with fear and disgust. Every part of me is aligned – my heart, my brain, my stomach; and every part of me says I don’t want this.
Don’t touch me.
Don’t hurt me.
Turning my eyes to the dark sky, the millions of stars, the half-moon, I don’t give him what he wants when his fingers force their way inside my body. He wants a reaction. He wants me to scream.
I’ll do neither.
If I die, I’ll do it without begging him for a thing.
Waves roar in my head at the lack of oxygen. It feels like I haven’t taken a breath in ten minutes, though it’s probably only been one. Tears slide along my cheeks, but other than that, other than my nervous system twitches, I give him nothing.
Eyes.