The stare continues, almost as if he’s trying to convey some sort of message to me. Either that, or he’s trying to read what it is I’m thinking. Little does he know that there are horrors that live inside my head, taunting me every day like a sick, twisted devil.
I’m trapped. My feet cemented to the ground, the rolls getting hotter in my hands, but I can’t seem to move.
And just like that, his posture straightens, he turns his head, and walks away.
For the first time ever, I felt awkward at work. When I got back, I had handed Charlie his roll, my eyes sheepishly glancing a peek at him. He simply nodded and disappeared in back for a while, which disappointed me. It made today slow. A lot slower than usual. It got to the point that when five came around, I was glad to get out of the shop.
Grabbing my coat and bag, I shout my normal goodbye and head round to the back of the shop to fetch my car. The atmosphere outside is stagnant. It’s the start of the afternoon rush hour, but the faces in the crowd look belligerent. They pose no threat to me, and yet like a Meerkat perched high on a hill, I look out for a threat. Something just feels… off.
Wanting to brush it aside, I take out my phone and like the diligent girlfriend I am, I call Chris. It only takes one ring before he answers.
“I don’t know if you can tell, but I’ve been waiting for your call.”
I chuckle into the phone. “I kind of guessed that, yeah. Have you missed me that much?”
A deep rumbling sigh resonates through the phone. “Baby, I miss you every second you’re not with me.”
Smiling, I answer, “Only another 600 seconds to endure, and I’ll be home.”
“Okay, hurry. My tongue is in need of a workout.”
Fire ignites deep inside me at the thought of Chris’s tongue hitting my sweet spot. My breath hitches, and Chris chuckles down the phone at my reaction.
“Drive safe, sweetheart.”
“Jerk,” I respond, my hand outstretched. I’m ready to end the call and pull the handle, when my initial fear of a threat becomes reality.
A gloved hand quickly covers my mouth. Another around my waist, trapping me against a solid chest. I drop my phone, my body jerking in response, a scream ripping from my lips. As my arms are trapped, my head thrashes from side to side, and at one point, I manage to move it enough to let out the blood-curdling scream that previously had been trapped inside the gloved palm of this maniac’s hand.
The hand secures itself around my mouth again, and then I’m being dragged. My legs instinctively kick out.
“Take her fucking legs!”
Shit, he’s not alone!
Fight or flight kicks in, and as I can’t escape, I have no other choice but fight. I kick, scream, and even try to bite my assailant’s hand, but to no avail. Whoever this guy is, he’s strong.
A body comes into view, but whoever the arsehole is, he’s wearing a ski-mask. All I can see are his dark, widened eyes zeroing in on me. I lock him in with my own, nothing but venom and determination greeting him back.
I won’t go out without a fight. I will fight till my last breath.
I have always known that one day, Chris’s dealings will come to haunt me. I just never envisioned it would be this soon. In truth, I have no idea if this is just some random attack, but since they came prepared with ski masks and gloves, I’m guessing that this was all premeditated.
This can mean either one of two things. They want to simply hurt me and send a message to Chris, or… and this is the option I fear the most.
They want me dead.
The dumpsters round the back of the antique store come into view after I’m forced onto the grotty floor. I close my eyes, fear gripping my insides. I don’t want to die, but the day I eventually do, should not be by a dumpster. Nobody deserves that.
The man behind me still has a hold of my mouth as he pins me down by the neck. Another man comes into view, this one bulkier than the other. The two men in front of me bend down towards me.
“Take her jeans down. Teach the fucking bitch a lesson.”
Hysteria is the only word I can use to describe the crippling panic crawling up my spine. Not wanting to acknowledge the fact that they’ve come to gang rape me, my senses kick in, trying to gather as much information as I can about my assailants. I don’t recognise the voices I’ve heard. The bulkier of the two men in front of me evilly smiles. I can’t see his face, but the lines around his eyes and the gleaning shine in them portray his excitement. He’s getting enjoyment out of seeing me held down. Seeing me completely helpless.
He bends over, placing his knee at my crotch, the pain of bone crushing against my pelvis makes me whimper with pain. The fucker laughs but doesn’t utter a word. He simply pulls my jacket up and unbuttons my jeans, but when he tries to yank them down, I spread my legs, halting his effort. My mouth is dry, my body exhausted from fighting, but I continue to writhe and continue to scream, no matter how muffled they may be. The asshole stands, his knee releasing from my crotch, but the momentary relief is quickly followed by a violent kick between my legs. My head dizzies, colours dance behind my eyes, and my body clenches in response to the agonising pain rippling through me. I’m temporarily paralysed, which gives this guy enough time pull my jeans down until they’re just below my knees.
“These guys are gonna rip your pussy apart, and you’re gonna fucking love it,” the guy behind me whispers in my ear. The other two laugh, and that’s when all the fight that’s left inside me quickly gets destroyed, leaving me with numbness. Pure numbness.
Then their laughter stops. Everything stops. It’s only when the two guys in front of me turn around that I realise someone else is here. Someone who could either be my saviour or just another member of this fucked up gang.
“I said step away from the girl.”
The less bulky guy steps forward, poking a finger at who I can finally see is my boss, standing his ground, chest out, heaving with anger. His eyes land on mine and then to my jeans pulled down to my knees, exposing my nakedness. His nostrils flare, his anger visibly heightening as his murderous gaze flits back to my attacker.
“This shit has nothing to do with you, arsehole. I suggest you move along before you get hurt.”
Time seems to stand still. Apart from everyone’s heavy breathing, no other sound can be heard. I still lie on the ground trapped, but I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. Charlie doesn’t speak for a second or two. He just stares at my attacker. Then he cocks his head, smirking at the guy.
“You fucking piece of shit!” the smaller guy steps forward, lifting his arm to throw a punch, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish what he started. Charlie, like an unseen force, sucker-punches him in the nose. I hear the crack, then red liquid oozes out of his nostrils like a faucet. I stare, eyes wide, mouth agape as he lands another blow at the side of the guy’s head. He goes down, but then immediately scrambles, his feet skidding against the concrete in an effort to get himself back up. He’s moaning, gripping his side as he rushes to his feet and surprisingly takes off.
“Terry, you fucking pussy, come back!” the guy behind me shouts in anger, but the little shit is gone. “Fuck this shit.” The guy holding me down suddenly lets go like I’m a piece of garbage, almost kicking me as he gets up.