Page 55 of Devious Gambit

I glanced past him to the door, wondering if I could slip pass while he was swaying about and run to Marjorie’s. No. Wait. She’s not home, but she told me where the spare key was hidden.

“What are you going to give me?” As he slurred, a bit of spit flew out of his mouth and hit me in the eye. Puke.

“You’re not making any sense,” I told him, while planning my escape.

“I want what you’re giving Luxon,” he ordered.

“Pardon.”

“A deal. You give me some of your juice…” he pointed to the space between my legs, “and I won’t go to police.”

I was seriously close to vomiting, just from the stink peeling off him alone. It makes me so angry that these men can just barge into someone’s house and take whatever they want.

“No!”

“If it’s good enough for Luxon, it’s good enough for me. I’m not fussy,” the disgusting pig told me.

“Please leave!” I demanded, pointing to the door.

“I know what you diiid,” he sang, waving his finger about.

I refused to acknowledge what he was accusing me of.

“Murder in the first degree,” he added and I was close to arguing that because it wasn’t murder in the first, it was self-defense. But I was calling his bluff.

“You tried to rape that girl!” I screamed at him. As much as he was frightening me, I was angry and fed-up with asshole bullies.

He laughed evilly. “Which one. We’ve done a few group roastings. That’s how we celebrate-”

“-You said you weren’t there!” I shouted. “You horrible liar.”

“There’s always a fucking feminist cock blocker to spoil the fun. That time it was you.”

“You deserve to rot in hell for that.”

“Ooooooh, I’m shaking in my boots. What are you going to do? Kill me like Sweeney.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

He ran his finger across my jaw and I stepped back from his vile touch, slamming into the kitchen bench. I was trapped and wishing like heck, I didn’t give the pocket pistol back to Marjorie. He pressed his body against mine, pinning me against the bench. He stunk so bad, a little bit of acidy vomit rose up into my mouth.

“Who were the other two men?” I demanded to know.

“Why? Are you worried you’re fucking a rapist?”

“Tell me!” I shrilled.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against my ear. “The king of the castle,” he hissed, “and his dirty rascal.”

“Get off me!” I screamed, pushing him as hard as I could, only to find that it barely made an impact.

He laughed in my face and wiped the drool escaping his mouth with the back of his hand.

I had to get out of this situation, even if I died trying. I’d rather die than have that heap of shit on top of me. I rested my hand on the drawer handle as the big, ugly ogre began to bite my neck. I killed one rapist, I could kill another, but only if I got away with it. I had to be smart. The plan: relax and let him drop his guard.

I let him grope my breasts and the place between my thighs, while he kissed my neck. While he was distracted fondly me and grunting like a swamp toad, I slowly pulled the drawer open. I kept a large knife in there that had never been used to cut food. Since Sweeney, it became my go-to weapon for defense. However, this would be the first and hopefully, only time I’d have to use it. I felt for the handle as he pressed his crotch hard against me, forcing the drawer shut onto my fingers. I bit my lip to stop from yelping in pain.

If I stabbed him, I could run out the door in a flash. The door was still open, yet there was no one nearby to call out to. I was alone. I had to get out of this one on my own.

---