Page 137 of Moth to a Flame

“Fuck you,” I hiss, still kicking and throwing punches at him with my ankles bound. I hit him in the chest, making him growl. His face is a picture of pain. “You can’t do this to me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He lifts his gaze to mine. Ugly and hateful. He twists away from me again when I kick him. “I can do so much worse.”

Without blinking, he hauls me to him until I’m lying down. Prowls up my body. Puts his hands on the waistband of my leggings.

Memories of that other night flash before me. How he ripped off my panties. Spread my legs. Hiked up my ass and punched my pussy.

I cried and cried and cried while he laughed.

“Don’t touch me,” I mumble.

The piece of my T-shirt I had is gone. I’ll take care of it later.

Right now, the imminent threat is him. I strike Lester, scratching him with my nails. Drawing more blood from his already wounded forearms. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

“Not so brave now, are we?” As soon as he starts shoving my leggings down my thighs, I punch him harder, reaching for his eyes. “Bitch! Bitch!”

His anger invigorates me. A tiny bit. I keep going. Hurting him. Insulting him. “I have a boyfriend. You’re not him.”

Of course, he keeps pushing my leggings down. He gets nowhere, because I won’t stop attacking him.

He’s weak. Hasn’t slept, probably.

I’ll push him off me. I will.

I thrash my body, slapping him over the face. Five strikes. That’s what I manage.

That’s how long it takes for him to give up.

“Cunt,” he talks to himself, shaking his head furiously. “Gotta get to the cabin. I’ll rest there. I don’t have time for this here. What the fuck. Motherfucking fuck.”

Information. I have to milk it while I can. I’ll use it somehow later, I’m sure of it. “What cabin?”

“None of your business.”

I grimace when he barks at me. I scream when he reaches for the pliers.

“I’ll fight you all night. I’ll take your eyes out while you’re down there, motherfucker.” Thinking about him touching me for another second has bile creeping up my throat. “You’ll be a sitting duck. Landon will find you.”

“Fucking bitch. You’re lucky I believe you.” Brown eyes bore into me. I want him out.Get out!“You’ll pay for it later.”

Panic. It rises and damn near swallows me whole as Lester pushes me by the collarbone to the floor. “Pay for what?”

He straddles me, wrapping one hand around my wrists.

“For that time you raped me?” Desperately, I fling my head up, hoping to bash my forehead against his. He lifts his at the last minute and laughs at me. “For the night you abused and sodomized me? If anyone has to pay, it’s you.”

“Wrong. It’s you. For being such a smartass bitch.” He pins my wrists over my head.

Those rotten apples. I smell them as he leans over me, so close that his oversized, crumpled shirt brushes my nose and mouth. The smell has haunted me for the past decade. It has to go away. I need it to go away.

“For sending someone to chop my dick off.” His weight shifts andno. No, no, no.

The pliers are on my index finger. Beneath the nail.

“Stop. Stop.” I wriggle. I scream. I try to bend my knees.

I fail. He’s too heavy.

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