Page 15 of Bad for You

Fight or flight takes over, and ignoring my injuries, I begin to fight with every ounce of strength I have. I kick my legs. I rear up and bite Hugo’s neck. But it’s all in vain when I feel his fingers penetrate me crudely.

He doesn’t care that it hurts so badly I can taste blood from biting down on my tongue. He just continues to violently assault me, keeping me pinned down with his forearm over my throat, watching me with his one eye.

He’s getting off on this. He’s just as sick as all the other men who have violated me. Every part of my body hurts. As does my soul. How many times can this happen to me before I drift away and am never found?

I detach from my body, just as I always do, but Hugo won’t allow it.

“No, bitch, look at me!” He spits in my face and slaps my cheek. “You’re wet. You like it. You’re nothing but a filthy whore. I would fuck you, but my cock is too good for your diseased cunt. But you need to be taught a lesson.”

He reaches for the broken mop handle, and my question as to why he snapped it in half is answered as he removes his fingers from me, intending to replace them with something else.

“No!” I wheeze, flailing with the last shred of fight I have left.

But it’s fruitless when I feel the most grotesque pain splitting my body into two, followed by Hugo’s elated, victorious screams.

I stop fighting because I am robbed of life.

Robbed of breath.

I can’t feel any part of my body any longer. It stops hurting, but I know that’s not because Hugo has stopped raping me with a household item that is supposed to represent cleanliness.

I will never be clean ever again.

Hugo bites my neck, whispering into my ear what a good girl I am as he continues violating me with that handle, and just as I close my eyes, surrendering to defeat, fate reveals it’s not done with me just yet.

The only reason I know this is really happening is Hugo’s pained screams for help are a salve to my blistering soul. I realize the pain between my legs is an echo because I’m no longer being assaulted. But my attacker didn’t stop of his own accord.

He stopped because someone was delivering to him what he did to me.

All I can hear is fists connecting with bone and flesh, but instead of recoiling, I rejoice because it’s music to my soul.

Opening my eyes, I slowly lift myself onto one elbow and focus on the scene before me.

Who I see has me realizing I made the right choice when Aldo asked who I wanted to come with me.

Lenny punches and kicks Hugo on the floor while he’s curled into a ball, begging him to stop. But Lenny doesn’t stop. In fact, he only seems to grow more incensed as he continues to beat the living hell out of Hugo.

“I’m sorry!”

Punch.

“I didn’t mean—”

Kick.

However, Lenny isn’t listening, and when Hugo begins crying, he kicks him in the ribs until he collapses onto his stomach. What he does next, I take complete delight in because an eye for an eye…figuratively speaking, of course.

He yanks down Hugo’s trousers and reaches for the handle that was used on me in the most brutal of ways.

He doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t hesitate.

He drives the handle into Hugo’s ass and inflicts the same treatment on him as he did to me.

Hugo’s pained screams excite me, and the deeper Lenny shoves that handle into Hugo’s ass, the nervous energy inside me explodes, and I am breathless with exhilaration. Something must be very wrong with me because this doesn’t disgust me. On the contrary, I want to see Hugo’s blood.

Pushing past my pain, I come to a shaky stand, and when Lenny meets my eyes, he nods.

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