Page 31 of Seen By Larabe

“I will give you two some privacy,” my father says turning his back on me.

“Papa. papa please don’t do this!” I cry out before I am thrown myself onto the bed and his entire weight is on my chest.

“Let’s see what kind of pussy made a man steal another man’s property,” he snarls in my face. Screeching, I spit in his face and attempt to claw at his eyes. His hands are grappling with my fists trying to control them, but I am like a wild cat. I don’t know what I am going to do but I am going to fight.

“Get off me!” I yell. I am flailing my body trying everything to extricate myself, but I am small compared to him. His hand covers my mouth and I sink my teeth into his skin, spilling blood. He growls and curses before his fist comes down on my face, so hard I see stars.

“Fucking cunt.” I am trying to fight the darkness from being punched, trying to regain my vision and ability, but it is hard.

“No. No.” I hear myself saying, when his hand rips open my robe. Vomit threatens to creep up my throat when his hands crudely grip my breasts. “No!” I try to say more forcefully. I hear his zipper go down in my head and the real fear begins to set in.

“Fucking putas think you have rights. The only right you have is to lay on your back,” he spits at me. I gather enough strength to slap him. He simply laughs and pushes my legs further apart. His fist swings at the other side of my head and I swear I can no longer hear. Everything is ringing now, and my face feels hot. His weight on my chest is taxing and I swear inside of my head I can hear my ribs cracking under the pressure of his mass.

Vaguely like I am in a bad dream, I can feel his fingers slide through my sex. I cry out in anguish at another man touching me that isn’t my husband. The bile rises in my throat, but I force it back down because right now I have to get off this bed. My body is weak, languid, jello from the blows to the head and the lack of oxygen, but I am trying to fight for my life and the life of the man I love.

Sachi begins fumbling with his pecker and I use the second I have to lift my knee and make contact with his tiny manhood. “Ahhh, fuck!” he shouts, falling back on the floor. As hurriedly as I can, aware that I am moving at a snail's pace, I get off the bed. My father runs into the room as I try to dash around him. His arm whips out to catch me. My breathing is hard and vision still blurry, but I reach for the vase on the side table and smash it against his head.

“Bitch!” My father calls out, but it sails behind me like it is being drifted off.

Stumbling, I make my way toward the panic room, tears running down my eyes as I pray for Larabee to come and save me. Not so far in the distance I hear shouting, running and gun fire which I didn’t hear a few minutes ago.

I keep moving, keep pushing myself but when I hear my father and the subsequent footsteps, I know I am not moving fast enough. I’m trying, but everything is spinning.

Finally I make it to the room and try to remember everything he said. I get the panel visible, but before I can get to safety, I hear my father call my name. “Satine!” and all of the fight deflates. My body physically gives up. I feel the resignation in my unsteady body, and it breaks me on the inside.

Turning, I face them, but where there were two, there are now three. “Please just leave.” I cry, no longer able to hide the defeat and sorrow.

“If you come now, I might not scar you too much.” Sachi says, the evil on his face is palpable. Suddenly, more gunfire fills the house and then I hear my name being shouted.

SATINE! PICCOLA!” Oh thank God.

“I’m here, Larabee. I’m here!” I yell back, hoping they get scared and run. Sachi looks at my father, his face menacing and diabolical. I watch in slow motion as he looks at me, smiles his satanic grin before the gun in his hand raises and he pulls the trigger.

Simultaneously I yell no, the bullet fires and I see Larabee’s face right before I feel the burning pierce of being shot. I hear his cry of my name before everything around me is chaos.

I know something is happening and I don’t know who all in the room is, but a heavy body falls beside me as I am gasping for breath, fighting once again to not leave the life I have craved. I am chanting in my mind to stay awake, stay alert, stay aware, because intrinsically I know the minute my eyes close, I may never awake again.

The gun he was holding slid down by my hand and my fingers twitch, itching to grab it. I hear another shot, a grunt and a tussle. I know he is fighting to get to me. I can feel it.

“Oh no. She’s been shot.” I think it is Aurora’s voice. Then there is a boom, a shout and then I feel him.

“Piccola. Baby open your eyes and look at me.” I didn’t realize I had closed them. “Come on angel, look at me. Please look at me baby. Satine, damn it open your eyes.” I’m trying. I want to look at you. I am screaming on the inside. “Go get help!” he shouts to whoever is in the room.

I can feel his hands on my face, his lips on mine while he begs me to wake up. I am awake, I think. I mean I can hear him. I can hear everything.

“Cain, you're bleeding.” Aurora’s voice is back. Wait, did she say he is bleeding?”

“Yeah pansy ass shot me in the chest, but I don’t feel it,” he says. “The only thing I feel is my heart stopping with each passing second she doesn’t look at me. What is taking the ambulance so long?” he decries. I hear feet leaving the room and then somewhere not so close but not far enough away I hear grunting. The same feeling I had right before my father came into my bedroom is what I am having now.

Something in me is telling me I have to open my eyes right now. Right now. My hand reaches out for the gun. Larabee is unaware because his face is buried in my stomach like he is praying, and I am moving only my arm. My eyes open for a moment, a single second, wide enough to see my father standing over him, covered in blood on his leg breath pointing a gun at my husband. I use the last ounce of will I have to lift my arm and whisper ‘No’, before pulling the trigger. My husband's head lifts, and he makes eye contact with me before looking behind him and then everything is black. Even if I don’t make it, I did one brave thing before I died. I saved the man I love.

Twenty-Three

Larabee

Three Days Later

For three days the love of my life has been lying in this bed in a medically induced coma and I have been unable to do anything. I don’t hear my phone, see anyone but the doctors and speak to anyone but her. I talk to her about how sorry I am that she had to kill her own father, how much I regret not being there when she needed me, and I whisper all of the ways everyone is going to pay for trying to take her from me.

---