Page 160 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

Any words I’d speak to save myself would be lost to the gag, but words won’t work on these two anyway. The only language they speak is violence.

Jesse and Caleb each grab an arm and haul me up. Something inside me snaps and I fight, flailing my bound hands and screaming around the ball in my mouth. Tears squeeze from my eyes as the brothers tighten their grip on my arms.

“Now you react. Fucking cow!” Jesse yells in my ear. “We’re gonna teach you a fucking lesson. Act like a slut, get treated like a slut.”

“Not that we’ll have time to test you on the material before-” He’s silenced, likely by a look from his brother.

Caleb’s words make me stop, my head whipping around to look at him, but he doesn’t meet my gaze. When I’m a foot from the saw horse, they drop me and I grunt. Jesse takes a knife and holds it against my throat, bringing his face even with mine.

“I’m going to undo these,” he growls. “But if you try to get away, it’s going to be so much worse for you. Understand?” The blade pushes into my skin, pricking it, drawing blood.

Oh, goody–a scar to match the one his brother gave me.

I nod, readying myself to do exactly what I’m not supposed to do.

He cuts through the ropes around my ankles and I remain still, breathing heavily through my nose. Jesse saws through the ropes around my wrists. The moment I feel the last threads break, I bring up my foot and send it crashing into his chest. I don’t watch him tumble away. Scrambling to my feet, I stumble toward the door.

I barely make it three steps before something hits my head and I go down. My chin scrapes the concrete floor while my hands take the bulk of my weight, sending pain shooting through my wrists. My ears ring and the world goes all fuzzy as someone straddles me. I kick my feet, trying to scream around the gag that I would’ve taken off if I’d gotten any further. My thighs scrape on the rough concrete floor and I reach back, trying to claw whichever brother is on top of me.

“You fucking bitch.” Jesse’s voice is further away, grunting in pain.

“Can’t believe you trusted her,” Caleb mutters, letting all of his weight settle onto my ass. “Get over here and help me.”

He hisses when I reach back with both hands and dig my nails into his legs. If I go down, I’m getting DNA evidence.

“That fucking hurt, man,” Jesse complains.

“Of course it did. Get over here.”

Caleb lifts his weight, but before I can react, two pairs of hands grab me once more. They drag me back to the saw horse and Jesse holds me while I continue to flail. Caleb rips my leggings down and off. I try to kick him in the face, but he dodges my foot. Jesse pulls my arms painfully backward for that move. I try to throw my head back into his mouth or nose orsomething, but I don’t make contact.

“Nice try, bitch,” he growls in my ear. “I can’t wait to watch you cry. You’ll be begging for fucking mercy.”

They leave my tank top in place and force one of my legs over the saw horse. The corners are sharp, digging into my tender areas. I’m forced face down so that my sternum rests directly on the cold metal. The bar only reaches from my collarbone to somewhere beneath my stomach. One good thing about the extra weight on my body is that it relieves the pressure on the sensitive skin below my hips.

While Caleb ties my ankles and knees in place against the supports, Jesse ties my arms down. I’m bound in the shape of the sawhorse with my limbs stretched out. Jesse’s ropes are tight and I don’t know if it’s the stress or if they’re genuinely cutting off the circulation to my hands, but my fingers feel tingly. My limbs are restless and I flex my fingers to try to keep the blood flowing. My chest is tight, the anxiety of being unable to move is already stealing my ability to breathe. The rage from earlier–that blood-boiling, scream-inducing rage–isn’t enough to quell the panic.

The brothers’ hands disappear and I catch a glimpse of Caleb pulling on a black ski mask before he goes to start the recording on the camera. He walks over and pinches my chin, turning my head toward the lens.

“Say hi, Honey.” He laughs. “Oh wait, you can’t.” He turns his head to the camera. “You see, we’re going to have some fun with you, our unwilling whore.” He glances back at me and then his attention is on the camera once more when he drops my chin. “And then we have the ultimate surprise.”

“But we’ll save that for later,” Jesse chimes in. “Don’t want to spoil it for Honey, here.”

WHACK!

I cry out when something makes contact with my ass. I’m able to twist my head just enough to see that Jesse is holding a long piece of wood, an off-cut as if from aconstruction site. I have enough brain power to wonder if that’s where all of this came from. The building we’re in can’t have housed it, so it’s clear this equipment is missing from somewhere.

WHACK!

Another smack brings me out of my thoughts and I squeeze my eyes shut against the pain. My hands are trembling, my breathing coming in ragged and short.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you’d just listened to me. If you’dstayedwith me,” Caleb says as Jesse hits me again, in the same spot as the first two times. “If you weren’t such a disgustingslut.”

I used to like pain. Not to this extent, but I used to like rough sex and choking and all of that stuff, but now…

WHACK!

Tears prick the backs of my eyes, whether from the stinging and throbbing of my buttcheeks or the situation, I’m not sure. Those tears begin to well, threatening to spill over and if they do, I don’t know how much longer I’ll last. Caleb intends to break me. I want it to be difficult, but my body might have other ideas.

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