Page 8 of Saving Barrette

Xander pulls me closer, his head buried in my neck and though I know with every ounce of my being I should pull away from him, I don’t and let his hands wander up my inner thigh. He smells like smoke and stale beer, not like the spice and summer scent I crave.

A CRACK OFthunder rolls through the inlet, bouncing off the water in waves. Startled at the sound, I jump and smile. I stagger and wonder where I am because it’s different. Nothing looks familiar anymore. “That’s scary. Think it’s close?” I say those words, but for some reason, they’re slurred and take so much effort.

“I’ll protect you,” a deep voice says. There’s an arm around my shoulder. It’s heavy. My eyes move to see it’s a guy who I don’t know. I can’t make out his face in the darkness, but his hand, there are tattoos on it.

Maybe you know where it’s heading, maybe you’re screaming at me to make sense and move away, but I don’t.

I look around. I don’t see Cadence. I don’t see Xander, though I thought he was right beside me. I’m no longer by the fire. I’m in the forest and I don’t know how I got there, or how much time has passed. There’s rough laughter around me, but I don’t think I recognize the voice.

Blinking rapidly, I look at the cup in my hand, the smell strong, potent. I should put it down, but I don’t. I think of Asa and his smile, and I drink more.

“Come with me,” a voice says, taking me by the hand. You’d think I’d know better. You’d think a girl like me wouldn’t follow.

Don’t follow, I tell myself, or at least I think I do, but my mind doesn’t comprehend the same action, held hostage by something I don’t understand. I can’t explain it.

I take his hand, but my arm feels strangely heavy, like lifting a weight that’s too much for me. I can’t see his face in the darkness, but there are specs of light shining through the trees. I look up, lost in the darkness. I’m swallowed whole by the black. It’s consuming and unforgiving. It feels like I might be floating, but I dig my hands into the dirt, and I know I’m on the ground. I don’t know how I got there.

“I think… I’d like to leave,” I mumble, or at least I think I do, but my lips are numb. Every motion feels foreign and forced. “I want to leave.”

Why do I feel so strange? Did I really drink that much?

“No,” he growls, pressing his mouth to the curve of my neck, “that’s not happening.”

Before I know what he’s doing, it seems too late. I’m held there and my heart rate drops. Fear. I fight against him. Harder than I’ve ever fought for anything. Every ounce of strength I can muster, I use.

It’s not enough. It feels as if nothing will be enough.

I’m being held down by strong hands and I hear the words, “She’s a virgin,” but I can’t distinguish the voice.

There’s a reply, a deeper more gravelly voice of, “I hoped she was,” but I can’t tell who it is.

More than one?

“Stop!” I scream. “Get off me!” I’m pressed into the dirt, a harsh breath leaving my lungs and he’s on top of me, panting and sweating, struggling to get my shorts off.

I can’t focus. Everything is a blur and just blinking feels heavy. It’s as if I’m underwater and my arms and legs are tied to the bottom of a muddy lake. I try to listen to the sounds around me, focus in on their voices, their words, but it’s all muted and the sounds, mumbled. It seems like it takes an eternity to form a thought, but when I do, I stare at the sky, the darkness, and I think, do they know what they’re doing? Don’t they see what they’re taking from me? What did they give me?

Then the pain hits me, harder than before. Between my legs burns, aches… and it’s more than I can take. “Asa!” I scream, but it’s muffled. I don’t know why I say his name, but I keep saying it, and I beg and plead for them to stop.

Nothing works.

Pain and wetness hit my shoulder, my neck, my chest. There’s grunting and the sounds of leaves crunching, movements and pressure between my legs. The pain, it’s unimaginable.

“Hold her still!” a voice growls, the one on top of me.

There’s pressure on my wrists, and at the same time, on my thighs. “I’m trying to. How much did you give her?”

There’s no answer, at least not one I comprehend.

His breath hits my ear. “Fuckin’ stop moving,” he grunts in a broken command. “I’ll only hurt you more.”

I squirm, I think, moaning for them to stop. Intense pressure hits my face and my heart already beating fast, picks up. There’s an image that appears in my mind, working its way through the jumbled thoughts. It’s him, the one. I hold onto that. His eyes. Not this guy’s, but Asa’s. I hold onto it like that rope swing when he begged me to let go when we were nine, telling me he would catch me.

He didn’t. I belly flopped into the bay and he smiled. This time, I couldn’t, wouldn’t let go of that one memory keeping me from drifting away completely.

They continue, I fade. I feel things happening to me, but I can’t do anything. My arms and legs feel so heavy. Like irons bolted to the ground.

I can’t move. I can barely breathe.

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