Page 51 of Endless Anger
I move back a step, my fingers spreading on the trunk beside me.
She manages to break away after some more gagging, and I hear her spit. “You’rehurtingme?—”
My heart lurches to my throat when a dull thud abruptly ends her sentence.
Ice solidifies in my veins.
Hehither.
I can’t tell if it was Beckett’s hand or another person’s, but someone hit her.
Celeste screeches, flailing as she apparently tries to push the people off her, dragging her mouth away long enough to let out a shrill scream.
This time, I watch someone’s fist drive right into her face, and shock washes over me, giving my feet roots. I can’t move, can’t run or rush in to help.
My stomach churns violently, twisting so hard that I wince from the onslaught of pain.
She goes slack without protest. Unconscious by the way her body slumps, held up only by the cocks still moving inside her.
“Fuck, man, I’m close?—”
“Knocking her out does it for you?”
“Don’tjudgeme. She’s really hot. Are you sure we have to do this?”
“It’s not up to us. Periculum in mora. Just don’t fucking come in her.”
“Aw, man. That’s so fucking boring.”
I glance down at my feet, trying to will them to move. This is—they’re going to hurt her. They already are, and I’m just standing here watching…
Oh my God. I was aroused earlier.
Putrid shame pulses into my heart, filtering into my bloodstream. For once in my life, I’m completely fucking immobile, but my body is trembling. I want to move, but I can’t—I’m stuck?—
Simultaneous grunts spill out around the group, each person halting their gyrations with a final thrust.
Vomit surges up the back of my throat, and I buckle, falling to my knees as it pushes past my lips. I hurl into a bush, digging my nails into the dirt, and let out a small sob.
“What the fuck was that?” one of them asks, and my heart seems to stop beating inside my chest.
Lifting my head, I shuffle against a tree. I don’t move a muscle, fear keeping me totally still.
The trunk across from me has the three-headed beast carved into it and outlined in some dark liquid. Paint, Ihope.
“Is someone out there?” one of the guys calls.
I cover my mouth with my palm, trying to regulate my breathing. No part of me knows what to do. My brain is short-circuiting, attempting to run through dozens of scenarios at once and coming up totally empty, unable to focus on any one thing.
How the fuck can I ever face my roommate again, or look in her bright blue eyes, after this?
The group remains quiet for several minutes before they finally pull away from Celeste. Listening for me.
Eventually, they seem to move on.
“Who fucking knows,” one says, walking toward a backpack lying on the ground a few feet from their tryst. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“It’s the worst part,” someone else says.
