Page 44 of Spiteful Lies

“Astrid?” Charlotte gently coaxes me, “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m back in that room, and I’m coming out of it. There are people around me. I can hear their muffled voices. And one person is laughing loudly. He’s close to my arm, but I can’t open my eyes. I sense his body heat and the way he smells. The laugh is deep and throaty, like he smokes way too much. I try hard to open my eyes over and over again. I try to open them, but I can’t. I feel pinned down and cold. My skin is damp, and the air is chilly. Oh my God. My nipples are hard.”

I stop and take a deep breath. I feel the side of the bed dip, but I don’t dare open my eyes as Charlotte sits beside me. “Breathe,” she says, “Remember to breathe. And I’m here with you.”

I swallow hard and start again.

“My top is gone, and I’m cold. I start to shake, and finally, I can move my fingers. My fingertips graze my thighs, and I can feel for my shorts. I hope that whoever is around me doesn’t know that I’m conscious. I rub the fabric, and a moan escapes my lips. Whoever is standing next to me turns, and I feel his hot breath on my face. Oh God. He’s touching me. I can feel his fingers on me.”

“Astrid, stop and breathe,” Charlotte’s voice is firm. “You’re not there. Pretend it’s not you. Take a step back and start again.”

My chest moves up and down, but the initial panic subsides as I recall more.

The hand brushes my side and stops on my breast. I try to reach for the hand, but my limbs are too heavy. No one is holding me down, but I can’t move. But then someone grabs my wrist and pulls it down.

The man’s voice shouts something, but I can’t make it out. The hand grasps my breast again, pushing a sharp nail into my nipple. I wince in pain as my eyes fly open. Ted Leister’s ugly face is hovering over mine.

“Oh, she’s a fighter,” he laughs as I try to roll away from him. Someone grabs my arm and pins me back down. I’m lying on top of the bar. And if I flip over, I can fall off and hurt myself if I land wrong. I grit my teeth as his hand rubs my breast. I try to tell him to stop, but my voice croaks weakly as he does it again.

I hear another voice. “Oh, the baby’s crying,” the woman says. Ted laughs and leans over me to kiss Blondie, standing on the other side. Her nails dig into my upper arm, and I try to do something, anything, but I can’t. “Look at those big sloppy tears,” she says. Blondie leans down, pressing her heavily made-up face against mine. She pokes out her tongue, licking the side of my face. I cringe, moving away, and she grabs my chin, forcing my head back as she does it again.

They both laugh while I groan.

Those fucking bastards. I try to move, but I can barely lift my hand. Someone takes it and places it down on my stomach. I position my hand on my shorts, determined to keep the rest of my clothes on me.

“Spread her legs,” he tells her.

Jesus. No. I try to kick as the sick girl grabs my ankles and pulls them apart. I watch her through my lashes as she sticks her tongue out at me. I try to kick her face, but my foot barely lifts off the bar. Her hands slide up my inner thighs. She looks up at Ted Leister and says, “Should I check to see if she’s wet?”

He laughs, grabbing my breasts and kneading them in his nasty hands. “You know who her daddy is?”

This time when I shout, it sounds like one. The note pierces the air. Someone must have heard it. Someone has to do something. I can hear people around us; they can’t just watch.

I suck in air as her hand creeps into the leg of my shorts. Her finger strokes me, and I struggle this time, closing my legs on her invading hand. I swear when this drug wears off, I’ll get her. I’ll get them both.

“Elliot Howland,” he says to her. “The prick of Rockingham.”

He grabs the waistband of my shorts and pulls it down until my shorts are wrapped around my hips.

“Cool tat, bitch,” she purrs.

“She’s dry,” he says. He spits in his hand, and then he touches me. I don’t want to cry. I never want anyone to know that I even care, but I do care, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him. I scream again, but nothing happens. No one helps me. Finally, I can turn my head and see that we’re in the room alone. The people I thought I could hear are on the TV.

“Get over here and unzip my pants.” He walks around the bar and holds his dick in his hand for her. “I’m going to need some moisture.”

She takes him in her mouth, and while she watches me, Blondie sucks him off. He grunts and groans as he squeezes my breast in his nasty hand. I try. I try so hard to move, but I can’t. I swear, I can’t. The only thing my body can do is cry.

He shoves her off by placing his hand on her forehead, and she tumbles backward, cursing at him. Ted Leister climbs onto the bar and hovers over me. His dick is hard in his hand, and I whimper, squeezing my legs tight together. He loses his patience.

“You little rich girls like to tease, but you knew what was going to happen when you walked through that door. Don’t cry, baby. Daddy’s going to make you feel better. He’ll fill you up with his hard dick, and if you’re a good whore, you’ll want it up your ass.”

I open my mouth, and a scream hurls out of my throat, loud and long, and someone has to hear it. I know someone had to have heard it. I try to lift my arms again, and this time, they move. I’ll scratch his eyes out if I have to.

I feel him pressing against my tightly closed thighs, and a wave of panic rises in my throat. I open my eyes, but tears blur my vision as he tries to push into me.

The bastard laughs at me. I brace myself, but it never happens. I hear a loud boom, and then his weight lifts off me. He curses as he hits the floor behind the bar. I try again to move, but a hand holds me still, but it’s not threatening. The touch is gentle as it keeps me steady. My eyes focus on Pierce’s face. He’s worried and frowning down on me.

“It’s me. We’re leaving.”

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