Page 69 of Rules

Panic like I haven’t felt in years assaults me like a tsunami.

This can’t be happening.

Cold sweat covers my trembling, icy skin. I try to inhale, but the hand covering my mouth is pressed so hard against my lips, the little air I breathe gets stuck in my throat, making me choke.

“Cat got your tongue?” the male voice chuckles into my ear.

I swallow hard as his whiskey-stained breath touches my cheek. His words are husky, almost playful, but there is nothing playful in his touch, in the deadly warning hidden behind his words.

“Not so harsh on the words now, are you,baby?”

My whole body trembles. If I weren’t sure before, that one word he spits out lets me know exactly who I’m dealing with: the drunk college guys from the bar.

Is it only one, or are they all here? Ready to avenge their buddy’s bruised ego.

They left shortly after the debacle, barely leaving enough cash to cover the tab. Not even in my wildest dreams did I think they’d stick around, waiting to retaliate.

The hand that’s around my middle moves up over my chest. Dragging the zipper of my jacket down, he slips his hand underneath, cupping my breast and giving it a hard squeeze.

My whole body flinches as pain shoots through my limbs from his manhandling, but my hiss is muffled by his other hand.

I think I’m going to be sick. My stomach rolls from his unwelcome touch, bile rising in my throat, but I don’t dare close my eyes because if I do, memories will come and make this whole thing ten times worse.

“No snarky comments, huh?” He pulls my head to the side, exposing my neck. “What do you think, guys? Does she still look tough, or does she just look like the little white bitch that she is?”

They’re all here, I realize. Not just the guy I pissed off. They’re all here, and they have me cornered in a dark alley. All because of one stupid comment.

My body seems to be shocked still as all the possibilities that go through my mind in a span of seconds make me go dizzy. Tears gather in my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. Squeezing my eyes shut, I push them back.

I won’t let them see me cry.

I won’t let them break me.

I didn’t cry before, and I sure as hell won’t cry now.

Memories I was dreading start to come back.

The darkness.

“Dude, she ain’t half bad. Look at those tits.”

His hands on my body.

“Right?” The guy behind me chuckles, his hand harshly pulling down the material of my shirt, exposing my plain black bra.

Hot, labored pants touching my skin.

The guy in front of me comes closer, his body brushing against mine, sandwiching me between the two of them.

Both of them are so close I can feel a mix of sweat and cheap alcohol surrounding them, making my stomach protest in revulsion. My legs are so wobbly, I’m surprised they haven’t already given out on me.

The guy in front of me reaches his hand forward, rough, sticky fingers tracing my skin.

“What a little doll,” he whispers, taking a step forward and pressing his body hard against mine. Denim brushes against my bare legs, and I’m sure I can feel his bulge pressing into my lower stomach as his fingers go down, down, down…

It’s like his touch snapped me out of whatever spell I’ve been under.

“Numph…” My muffled protest makes the guys laugh. I try to get out of his touch, my whole body wiggling with the effort like a fish on the ground, but his hands only tighten around me as their laughter grows louder.

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