Page 29 of Nocturne

Seems like that was the wrong thing to say. His eyes which were confused flare in anger, his grip tightening on my hand. The man isn’t that tall, only a couple of inches over me, but darn it, he is strong. Strong enough to back me to the wall and keep his grip on me despite my fight.

“Doesn’t matter,” he declares and horror fills my veins.

The narrow corridor is dark, the faint glow of a distant light barely cutting through the thick shadows. My heart leaps into my throat, terror freezing me in place for a split second before adrenaline kicks in. I twist violently, trying to break free, but the man's grip tightens. I bring my other hand to push him away but he easily pins it over my head. My back hits the wall with a loud thud, pain flaring all over.

My breath comes in short, panicked gasps, eyes wide with fear as I struggle against him. I feel his hot breath on my neck, the weight of his body pressing me into the cold, unyielding rocky wall that scrapes against my skin. My mind screams,every instinct screaming at me to escape, but his strength is overwhelming, his hold suffocating.

I thrash desperately, trying to free my hands so that I can do him some harm. His grip doesn’t lose and his smile turns vicious.

“Stay fucking still,” he orders.

I don’t listen.

I trash wildly, screaming until my throat hurts.

The time is against me as the fight has already started and it is impossible to hear my screams over the cheers of the crowd. Tears blur my vision as I kick out, my foot connecting with his shin. He curses his voice a low growl of anger. He doesn’t move but instead grips the base of my hair and bangs my head back on the wall.

I scream both at the pain and realise what he wants to happen. He wants me to fall unconscious so that he can rape me.

Adrenaline doesn’t let the dizziness cloud my vision, instead, I spit on his face, cursing the day he was born. I stop trying to beg him, monsters like him don’t listen. They get their kick listening to their victims begging and I’d be darned if I give him that satisfaction.

“Fucking bitch!”

His hand flies out of nowhere and smacks me right on my cheek. I feel the skin inside my cheek and the corner of my lip tearing. The immediate hits to my head momentarily have my vision turning black.

The slap was hard, painful and scary. He is strong, he is almost immovable but he is having difficulty in keeping me in place. Ican feel the strength slowly leaving my body. It can only fight for so long and he keeps hitting my head and hands.

I use all my strength for one last time and cry for help giving it my everything. Leo cringes at the sound but doesn’t deter his focus. I close my legs when his breath touches my cheek. His lips force on mine while his other hand roughly squeezes my breast.

It hurts, it hurts so bad but I don’t open my mouth. It aggravates him and he bites down on my lip, hard. This time I do cry as I feel blood dripping from his assault.

He lets out a sinister chuckle, his free hand going down to my thighs. I try to scream again, but it hurts. It hurts to even make the noises from his assault and I don’t think I can scream again. But I have to. I have to escape this. I don’t think I will be able to survive another nightmare. I’m barely keeping it together from the ones I already have.

I open my mouth, trying to scream but only a hoarse cry comes out. Leo laughs at my pathetic attempt and roughly spreads my legs. I feel the stretch in my hip joint, the pain so intense that I trash in his hands wildly, begging him to let me go.

“It hurts, please,” I beg, not knowing what to do.

He only laughs, gripping my thigh in place before his hands go for the button of my jeans.

No!

My eyes widen in horror. I try to kick him with my other leg, try to bite his face, to do something but he doesn’t come as close. He growls in frustration and this time when he bangs my head on the wall, the blackness that creeps in doesn’t leave soon. I can still feel his vile hands on my body, one of them gripping bothmy hands over the wall and the other trying to open the buttons of my jeans.

I try to move, I try to fight, but everything feels groggy. My words come out in a slur, fear that I cram into the deepest recess of my mind coming out to dominate my senses. It dims down my fight and tries to force me to accept the reality that no one can save me.

There is no one to save me.

No one saved me the first time.

I was all alone, left to rot and die with no help. It is hard to accept the reality that there’s no vigilante out there to save us. Numerous women are being subjected to abuse at the hands of men just because they can. I’m about to become another statistic.

The sound of the man popping open my button does it. The sound of it is louder than my screams, louder than the pain flaring from every part of my body, louder than the crowd that roars wildly in the arena.

Another demon is about to join the existing ones, waiting to devour me with time.

“Help…please…” I try one last time.

Maybe I should give up. Maybe I should let the darkness take over so that I wouldn’t at least be conscious or even alive for what’s going to happen next. Maybe if I close my eyes and I won’t have to wake up.

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