Page 98 of Vengeful Rotten Casualties

For tonight at least, Idon’t want to know. I don’t want to expect the pain.

My eyes fall on the men standing outside of the door. Men. As in plural. I grit my teeth and step back. They fall in line—one after the other. After the third, my eyes widen as more step inside.Fuck me.Or rather fuck Thomas. I told him I fucking hate gangbangs.

“Looks like she was ready for us, boys.” I close the door after the last one enters and takes up residence in the living room.

A few men take seats on the couch. One or two go rummaging through the kitchen—there’s always liquor in there for guests like this. My heart pounds against my ribcage as I ball my hands into fists.

“Come here, girl.” My nails sink into my palms, stabbing against my skin at the command. There’s no use in resisting, though. So, I stride into the living room and move to the center.

One. Two. Three. In the living room. Four and Five in the kitchen. Five. Okay. That’s not the worst. I’ve had more. I’ve hated more, but I’ve survived it.

I suck in a breath and scan the men waiting. The two sitting on the couch look older, relaxed. They’re familiar and I almost relax because I know they’re fairly tame. The one standing and leaning against the doorframe, however, isn’t a known variable. He’s tall and rough looking, not as old as the men on the couch, but definitely not young either.

I swallow reflexively, and as if he can sense my anxiety, he grins.

The men from the kitchen come back, each of them holding a couple of bottles—top shelf tequila and rum. On the table in front of the couch, the men lay out several shot glasses, pouring them each to the brim. One of them is shoved into my hand. I start to shake, but their attentions aren’t on me.

“Tonight is about celebration, boys!” one of the men from the kitchen—a younger looking man in his forties—exclaims. “Congratulations to us for closing that fucking deal. May our wallets get fatter and our profits get bigger!”

“Here! Here!” The cheer goes up and everyone downs their shot. Everyone except for me.

I feel like a fucking sideshow standing here in the getup Thomas sent. The bra I’m wearing plumps up my tits, shoving them together and the shorts are … well, underwear would probably provide more coverage. And here these men are, coming to celebrate probably some sort of job well done on their part, by fucking some underage whore.

The man who handed me the shot suddenly appears in front of me and urges the glass to my lips. “Drink up, girl,” he says, grinning. “You’re gonna need it tonight.”

I shiver at his words but part my lips and let the liquor flow over my tongue. It’s spicy and gross, but I swallow it anyway. My stomach, however, rebels the second it slips past my throat. I probably should have eaten more than a granola bar today. Then again…getting drunk fast might make this more bearable.

I force a smile and shake my glass. “How about another one?” I suggest. “You’re here to celebrate after all.”

The man in front of me smiles brightly, his lips stretching into a pleasant expression. I bet he fools everyone with that smile because when I see it—even knowing what he’s here for—he looks like your average man. Probably one with a wife and two kids at home.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” he whoops, snatching my glass away as he turns and refills it.

Shot after shot goes down and soon enough the tingling numbness of ease fills me up. Before, my skin felt cold and paper thin, but now… now I can’t feel it at all.

“I think it’s about time we get to the main event, men.” Main event—meaning me. I stumble slightly as I’m pushed towards the couch. One of the older men has moved to the center and the other has disappeared when I wasn’t paying attention.

Doesn’t matter, though. They’ll all get their pound of flesh from me. They always do.

As the older man unzips his pants and pushes them down, a hand falls on my shoulder and pushes me to my knees. Without thought—as if I’m following an automation—I crawl towards the couch on my hands and knees until I’m kneeling right before the man’s cock. It’s short, but fat. A pearly bead of precum lingering at the head.

“Open wide,” he orders.

I close my eyes and lean forward, my lips parting. As his dick invades my mouth, I feel hands on my ass, rubbing across my skin, peeling the shorts down until they’re trapped at where my knees touch the floor.

No matter who they are. No matter what they do. Everyone who comes here is just like this—all looking to fuck their way to heaven. It’s too bad the only place my body is meant for is hell.

43

MICKI

I blinkand the world returns. The old memory fades, but the shame remains. I thought I was all cried out, but apparently, I’m not. More tears stream down my face and I quickly wipe them away. It’s on the edge of my mind to reach for my cell phone, to check my messages, but I left that behind too. No doubt it’d be ringing off the hook by now if I still had it. Luc is probably awake. He’s probably already read my note and he knows that I’m gone.

And this time, there is no coming back.

I inhale the country air, letting it fill my wrecked lungs. My skin feels dry and cracked from all the crying. My eyes are swollen. I probably look like a psycho crazy mess just sitting in front of this empty, old house on top of a car that’s worth more than the land itself.

Minutes turn into hours. Long hours that seem to pass by all too soon. My mind drifts away, coming back every so often when a car drives by or when a bird takes flight from the trees beyond the house. The sun hovers over the horizon, sinking behind the house and trees. There’s only so long I can stay here. My stomach rumbles with hunger, but if I try to eat now I know I’ll just end up vomiting it all back up.

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