Page 10 of Captive Vows
“You’re all alone now,” he taunted, unzipping his pants while he used his other hand to shove me up against the closed door again. “Miguel ain’t coming home tonight, little kitten.”
I grunted, kicking out at him as hard as I could. He’d blocked me from smashing my knees into his dick, though, his pale, skinny cock that he got out from his sagging jeans.
Oh, fuck. No. No. Fuckingno!
This couldn’t be happening.
This couldn’t be my reality.
I didn’t have time to wonder about what he was saying. I didn’t want to slow down and think about why my dad wasn’t coming home. He was probably shit-faced or high, too out of it to make it back to the apartment. And knowing that I’d be alone and unprotected, Tony thought he could help himself to being here and raping me.
“Get off me!” I shouted it louder.
He didn’t. Laughing harder, he slapped me. I gasped, lifting my hand to my cheek to ride out the pain, but that was the lapse in fighting back that he must have been counting on. With my arm up, he could ram it above my head. Faster and faster,he shoved at my shorts and panties. Every scrape of his grimy fingers on my skin sickened me. Each taunting laugh and needy growl of lust threatened to make me pass out from sheer horror and fear of the unthinkable happening.
I couldn’t catch up to understand why and how this was happening. How my dad could be such a lowlife as to let his friend have a key to get in here. How my only parent could be such an uncaring idiot not to be concerned about my safety. Nor my happiness. Expecting him to wonder if I was happy was a ridiculous joke. But how much worse of a human could he be to not even give a damn about my safety? About preventing a sicko like Tony from raping me?
Over and over, he yanked at my clothes. It took every bit of my strength to squeeze my legs together. Staying upright was critical. I couldn’t let him get me down. He’d cover me and never let me back up—not until he got what he wanted. Keeping that nasty dick away from me was all I could focus on. I refused to lose my virginity like this. He wouldn’t reconsider, too frenzied like a wild, feral predator with this need to rut.
“Stop!” I screamed it that time, wishing the neighbors would hear and call for help.
No rescue would be coming, though. No one knocked on the door to inquire about the sounds of a struggle. I didn’t want to let myself cave to the alarming idea of my dad being dead and never coming back. If I let that fear overpower me, I’d be frozen and useless, too scared to fight back.
Because my life was this unfair and because I had no one to guard me or help me, this was it. It was a fight to the death as far as I was concerned. I wouldnotbe defiled, not like this.
To the best of my ability, I fought Tony off and tried to get enough distance between us so I could wrench the door open and escape. It felt like an eternity of hell, resisting his touches and squirming to break away. A smearing blur of anxiety anddread gave me the energy to fight, and at last, I managed to pull on the door knob.
I yanked on it as hard as I could, letting the edge of the door smack into Tony’s face as he lunged after me. Spinning quickly, I dropped low to dodge his outstretched arm.
Then I was gone.
Running right back down the hallway with half of the lights out or blinking, I escaped the one place I was supposed to be able to count on.
My home was no longer safe.
Nowherefelt safe.
No one would make me feel safe ever again. My dad never had done well in that department, but after this incident, I knew I couldn’t live with him for much longer. Not when he’d let creeps into the apartment. Not when he’d associate with rapists.
Sprinting down the sidewalk, I scanned my surroundings. Panic fueled me. The adrenaline rush of fighting Tony back and then fleeing had me primed and aware. All my senses were heightened. With every movement I spotted and each sound of the city nightlife that I picked up on, I wheezed and strained to steady my breath.
He’s gone.
He’s not coming after you.
I jerked around to check that Tony wasn’t chasing me out on the street.
You got away.
You’re alone.
I couldn’t dupe myself into thinking everything would be all right. Nothing would be okay ever again.
I’d had a lesson in how others with privileges would always get ahead at the studio.
I’d experienced a harrowing near-rape incident in the supposed security of my home.
Out on the street, afraid to go to my room and lock myself in, I feel utterly spent and scared.
