on the
clothes he had ripped from her. No longer could I hold back my
emotions and I started to dry heave, though nothing came up. Sophie
grabbed my wrist and squeezed, and I closed my eyes and tried to
breathe. It felt like the walls were caving in around
me.
The woman began to cry deep sobs
as she lay in a ball on the floor holding her body, trembling from
the pain. I wanted to go to her and tell her everything would be
okay, that she would be okay, but I didn't know if that was true. I
broke inside watching him be so rough with her. Derrick was a
monster.
"I said to shut the fuck up," he
said, but when she didn't stop, he pulled a knife from a sheath
around his leg and bent down beside her. Before he slit the woman's
throat, he looked over at Sophie and smiled. When he stood and
wiped the blade on his shirt, the woman's empty brown eyes stared
into mine. I watched a puddle of blood form close by the other
one.
"No," I screamed out in horror,
then covered my mouth realizing what I had done.
Within an instant, Derrick was in
front of me, pushing me against the wall until I felt the cold
cement against my back.
"And you are?"
I swallowed. I didn't want to
answer because of the venom in his tone. He was like poison, and I
refused to take a sip. There was murder in his eyes, a need for
more blood that I didn't want to address.
He chuckled. His face was only
inches from mine, and I could smell something sweet on his breath,
like strawberries. The smell sickened me.
Derrick moved his mouth close to
my ear and whispered, "When I ask you a fucking question, you
answer immediately. If I tell you to fuck, you bend your ass over
and take it. Do you understand? Do you want to be the next nameless
fuck who I take and kill? Or do you want to live?" He never raised
his voice, but rather stayed completely calm, and that alone scared
the shit out of me. He had just killed and raped a girl in front of
us.
"I'll obey," I whispered, knowing
exactly what my outcome would be if I didn't.
"So what's your fucking name,
sweetheart?"
He pushed against me harder, and I
could feel the growing erection against my stomach. He had just
fucked and wanted more. I couldn't handle this. I was slowly losing
myself, hoping that it was a bad dream, hoping that I would wake
up.
"Lauren," I said.
Being in control of me made him
harder. Having power over me turned him on while scaring me
shitless. He slipped his hands up my shirt and rubbed his cold
fingers across my nipples. Blood was sprinkled across his shirt,
and looking behind him, I could still see the cold eyes of the girl
he had just murdered.
His hand found its way down my
pants, and he rubbed my clit with two fingers. I wanted to cry, I
wanted to crumple into a piece of paper and be thrown away as I
fought back the tears. I hated every second that his hands were on
me. It wasn't right.
"You're enjoying it," he
said.
But I wasn't, I wanted to say. It
was about survival at this point, and I knew he couldn't be crossed
or he would kill me. Slaughter was in his eyes as my body betrayed
me. He placed a finger inside, then two. As if he had already
memorized my body, he was pushing places inside of me that made me
want to die. Slowly, he moved his large fingers in and out, then
picked up his pace. I wanted to scream out in horror at his foreign
touch. My insides trembled with fear and hate, but my outward
appearance stayed unwavering.
He watched my every movement. How
I closed my eyes and tried to pull myself away, to pretend I was
somewhere else.
Please let this stop. Please.
Please. Please. I wasn't the type of girl to beg, but inside my
head I wished and pleaded that it would all be over soon. If there
was a God out there, wouldn't he hear my silent cries? Could he
save me from this devil of a man?
I tried to think of Henry and the
last six years we had spent together. How he never wanted to touch
me in ways like this. Missionary was his thing, boring as hell, and
to make matters worse,
clothes he had ripped from her. No longer could I hold back my
emotions and I started to dry heave, though nothing came up. Sophie
grabbed my wrist and squeezed, and I closed my eyes and tried to
breathe. It felt like the walls were caving in around
me.
The woman began to cry deep sobs
as she lay in a ball on the floor holding her body, trembling from
the pain. I wanted to go to her and tell her everything would be
okay, that she would be okay, but I didn't know if that was true. I
broke inside watching him be so rough with her. Derrick was a
monster.
"I said to shut the fuck up," he
said, but when she didn't stop, he pulled a knife from a sheath
around his leg and bent down beside her. Before he slit the woman's
throat, he looked over at Sophie and smiled. When he stood and
wiped the blade on his shirt, the woman's empty brown eyes stared
into mine. I watched a puddle of blood form close by the other
one.
"No," I screamed out in horror,
then covered my mouth realizing what I had done.
Within an instant, Derrick was in
front of me, pushing me against the wall until I felt the cold
cement against my back.
"And you are?"
I swallowed. I didn't want to
answer because of the venom in his tone. He was like poison, and I
refused to take a sip. There was murder in his eyes, a need for
more blood that I didn't want to address.
He chuckled. His face was only
inches from mine, and I could smell something sweet on his breath,
like strawberries. The smell sickened me.
Derrick moved his mouth close to
my ear and whispered, "When I ask you a fucking question, you
answer immediately. If I tell you to fuck, you bend your ass over
and take it. Do you understand? Do you want to be the next nameless
fuck who I take and kill? Or do you want to live?" He never raised
his voice, but rather stayed completely calm, and that alone scared
the shit out of me. He had just killed and raped a girl in front of
us.
"I'll obey," I whispered, knowing
exactly what my outcome would be if I didn't.
"So what's your fucking name,
sweetheart?"
He pushed against me harder, and I
could feel the growing erection against my stomach. He had just
fucked and wanted more. I couldn't handle this. I was slowly losing
myself, hoping that it was a bad dream, hoping that I would wake
up.
"Lauren," I said.
Being in control of me made him
harder. Having power over me turned him on while scaring me
shitless. He slipped his hands up my shirt and rubbed his cold
fingers across my nipples. Blood was sprinkled across his shirt,
and looking behind him, I could still see the cold eyes of the girl
he had just murdered.
His hand found its way down my
pants, and he rubbed my clit with two fingers. I wanted to cry, I
wanted to crumple into a piece of paper and be thrown away as I
fought back the tears. I hated every second that his hands were on
me. It wasn't right.
"You're enjoying it," he
said.
But I wasn't, I wanted to say. It
was about survival at this point, and I knew he couldn't be crossed
or he would kill me. Slaughter was in his eyes as my body betrayed
me. He placed a finger inside, then two. As if he had already
memorized my body, he was pushing places inside of me that made me
want to die. Slowly, he moved his large fingers in and out, then
picked up his pace. I wanted to scream out in horror at his foreign
touch. My insides trembled with fear and hate, but my outward
appearance stayed unwavering.
He watched my every movement. How
I closed my eyes and tried to pull myself away, to pretend I was
somewhere else.
Please let this stop. Please.
Please. Please. I wasn't the type of girl to beg, but inside my
head I wished and pleaded that it would all be over soon. If there
was a God out there, wouldn't he hear my silent cries? Could he
save me from this devil of a man?
I tried to think of Henry and the
last six years we had spent together. How he never wanted to touch
me in ways like this. Missionary was his thing, boring as hell, and
to make matters worse,
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