Page 80 of Muted

My monster rains down blow after blow on my body. He punches my face, stomach, arms, sides, thighs, until I’m dangling in his hand. Limp and unable to ward off his torture.

My grandfather tires after however long he spends beating me, panting heavily into the pouring rain. The air is chilled and there’s a fog streaming from his nose and mouth on every puff of air he releases.

“Pathetic,” he growls as he tosses me to the ground like I’m nothing more than garbage. My body curls against the cold concrete to shield myself from the pain of his hands.

My reprieve is short lived when he drops his body to his knees at my feet, panting through his exertion of my abuse. Although my eyes are squeezed tightly through the aches radiating from every spot he connected with, I can feel his eyes slide over my body. Assessing me. Deciding what to do next.

Just as I force my eyes open, I watch him tilt his head back, arms held out to his sides in supplication to whatever deity he’s gaining his strength from, and he roars up to the sky, screaming for justice over the loss of a man I don’t remember.

I reach above me to dig my fingers into the solid stone to try to turn myself over and crawl away, but his raging cuts off abruptly and his head drops back down to lock onto my face.

“You’re her spitting image. You have the face of a woman I fucking hate,” he spits out.

Dropping his hands to his sides, he lets one of them roam over to the front of his slacks, where he unsnaps the top button and lowers his zipper.

The hatred pouring off him is more terrifying than when I was crying for my mother in our empty trailer as a little girl. Gasping, I use my legs to kick my body away from him, but he slams his hands on my knees, stopping me. His hands quickly fight against the fastening on my pants as I try my best to slap them away.

“STOP!” I cry out, fighting as hard as I can to keep my clothes on.

“THIS IS YOUR BURDEN!” he screams into my face. There’s a power in his words that forces my hands to the sides of my head, freezing my body from any movement. It’s only a moment before he’s removed my pants from my body, leaving me bare from the waist down.

Gripping my thighs, he pushes them apart and looks down at my privates like they disgust him. He jerks his gaze away as he lets his body fall on top of mine.

I can feel his fist work in an attempt to make himself hard. The knuckles of his hand slam against my tender flesh exposed to him, over and over again as he grunts in frustration. Squeezing his eyes tight, he strokes harder, bruising my skin.

“This is your fucking fault,” he grunts out, still jerking himself. “You fucking disgust me, but Christ, I want to hurt you so bad.” His admission makes another wave of bile rise up, and I turn my head to gag against my shoulder.

He wants to rape me, to hurt me. But he’s so disgusted by who I am that he can’t get his body to react. Growling, he strokes faster and when his knuckles connect with my skin again, it’s enough to jerk me out of the frozen state he had me locked in.

Lifting my knee, I slam it into his balls as hard as I can. The ear-piercing scream he bellows out only brings me joy for the briefest of moments.

My grandfather’s body falls to the side as he holds himself, crying against the pain I’ve delivered, and I scramble away, this time successfully.

Cradling my stomach from the beating it took, I sprint away from the house, down the driveway, and into the street.

Flashing lights from a police car illuminate my face, and I hold my hand up to my eyes to ward off the blinding light. Limping toward the squad car, I hold my hand up to wave them down.

The car stops only a foot from me, the headlights so bright that I can’t see anything beyond them. I cry with relief when I hear the doors slam shut, and the light is broken by bodies moving in front of them.

“H-Help me, PLEASE. He’s trying to ra—”

My words are cut off when multiple hands wrap around my waist and chest, and I’m yanked away from them in the air, screaming and holding my arms out to them for help.

Chapter 22

Aviation

Chester/Theo

Chester

“She won’t answer my texts.”

I haven’t even sat down before Theo is digging for information on what happened with Susu.

Dropping my jacket on the back of my chair, I sit and wave over the server. “She’s asleep.”Christ, I need a fucking drink.

“What can I get you?” Peeking at the server’s nametag first, I give her a tired smile.

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