Page 1 of Shared By My Brother's Best Friends

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Knock, Knock

My heart races, wondering what nightmare waits for me in the kitchen as I creep down the hallway, baseball bat gripped firmly in my fists. Animals, bears, raccoons, squirrels have been known to find their way inside the cabins out here. The metal pan crashing on the tile floor startled me awake. Still too sleep-drunk to handle even the smallest creature.

The closer I creep to the source of the noise, the more I hope it’s something small. Something that will be more afraid of me.

Then the laughter starts. Deep, uproarious laughter.

Shit.

Not at all the animal I was expecting.

I hug the bat against my chest and back into the coat closet around the corner from the kitchen.

I came to our family’s cabin in the woods to get away for a peaceful weekend. Just my luck, this would be the weekend it gets broken into by some boys looking for a place to get drunk and destroy some unknowing person’s property.

My heart sinks.

Now what do I do?

Even if I had my phone on me, there’s no service out here. Even if there was, the nearest police station is over thirty miles away. There’s every chance these guys will find me before they get here.

I hate to think what a few drunk guys would think to do with a nearly naked woman in the middle of nowhere.

What do I do? Stay here? Curled up on the floor of this tiny closet until they leave?

They’re probably here for the weekend. I’ll need to pee at some point. I’d rather die, fighting for my life than cower like a scared little mouse, swimming in a puddle of my own piss.

So, what’s left? Confront them?

I look down at my legs, bare up to my cotton panties and my cleavage poking out of the deep swooping neckline of my oversized tank top.

Are the type of guys who don’t respect private property rights also the type of guys who would take advantage of a defenseless woman?

Their voices are muffled as they stomp in and out of the cabin, most likely, unloading their vehicle.

Heavy feet tromp on the wood floor, passing the door of my hiding spot. On their way to…

My room.

All of my stuff.

The second they walk into my bedroom they’re going to know someone’s here.

“Web,” one of them shouts.

A second set of feet thud past me.

Moments later, one of them whistles. You know the whistle. That cliche wolf call that comes from every construction zone when a woman in a skirt walks by.

This is it. They know someone’s here.

Not just someone.

A woman.

My heart races even faster than it did when I thought I might have to fight off a wild animal as a third pair of feet follows the call of his friends, most likely, ogling the bikini I left hanging on the bed post to dry after my twilight swim in the lake.

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