Page 6 of Fly Back to Me
He invades my space, reeking of liquor and tobacco as his dusky eyes burn into me. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you to thank someone when they compliment you?” he taunts.
My chest constricts as a tremor rocks my lips, and I peep over his broad shoulder. I manifest any glimmer of hope through distorted vision, searching for any sign of salvation.
Then he subtly shifts, thrusting one hand in his jeans pocket. My glossy eyes reluctantly meet his onyx ones—eyes that promise me everything but safety.
“I’ll give you whatever you want,” I beg weakly. “My wallet is in my car.”
“I don’t want what’s in your wallet,” he rasps, his tone lethal.
My eyes cut to the snapping of metal, his rough fingers revealing the blade of a pocketknife.
Icicles pierce my veins, frosting over my bloodstream. The chill suspends me in shock, all sound muted except for the bass of my heart crashing against my eardrum. He rolls the black handle between his long digits, and my flight response catapults my body into action.
I dart to the left, only gaining two steps before his steel arm wraps around my chest from behind. A screech exits my mouth, but it’s kidnapped when his large palm seals my cry.
The tip of the cold metal rests under my chin in his free hand. “If you make another sound, I’ll hurt you. I’ll hurt you really good. Do you understand?” he grits out, droplets of spit splattering against my cheek.
I pinch my eyes closed, wringing out tears as my chest wracks with vicious sobs. Mucus streams from my nose, soaking his bristly skin as I peel my eyes open and pray to see an angel.
Someone or something that’s going to terminate the terror of this moment.
But all that stands before me is the steel of the large dumpster.
Blocking any sliver of hope.
“Now, when I take this knife away, you’re not going to scream,” he whispers harshly, his hot breath biting my ear like the Grim Reaper himself.
My bones shrivel as I screw my eyes shut. Icy blood chips away from my veins, every fallen piece leaving my body paralyzed. A new limb immobilizing until I succumb to this brutal fate.
Rounding my body, he suspends the knife in front of my petrified stature. The refined tip shines a wicked glint amidst the darkness, and he lays his free palm on the brick to cage me in on one side. I desperately sag my back against the abrasive surface, the grinding of the brick providing me a pitiful comfort as I will myself to melt into it.
I pivot my head to the side, thick tears roaming down my cheeks as strands of my hair glue to my face. “Please. Please don’t do this,” I whisper desperately.
I crush my eyes closed as the tip of his blade grazes the front of my sweater dress. The metal point travels down the valleybetween my breasts, every inch of his journey unlatching a new tear.
Every droplet a silent prayer.
The metallic edge trails down the center of my stomach, eliciting a shiver that gradually deadens my nerve endings. It suddenly traces the hem of my sweater dress, slipping under to lift the garment higher along my thighs.
My eyes pop open, body trembling wildly as I realize this disgusting man is about to defile me behind a dumpster.
And to that, maybe death is my salvation right now.
Maybe I’d like it better there.
“Such sweet, long legs you got,” he breathes against my face.
He rests his fist with the knife on the brick wall, harshly kneading my inner thigh with his opposite palm.
His punitive touch ignites my last shred of strength.
Rage briefly replaces my fear, and I purse my lips before driving two closed fists into his firm chest. “No,” I seethe.
But his torso is solid stone.
And I surrender.
Reaching out for death’s hand, I beg it to rip me from this misery.
