Page 47 of Ruthless Rose

“What are you doing playing at the park so late, little girl?” A group of boys advances toward me. I’m only eleven, so they have to be… I don’t even know how old. They’re big boys. Fifteen? Sixteen? Older? Definitely high school kids. Definitely older than me.

The closer they get, the bigger they seem—and there are three of them. They stalk toward me as I try in vain to back up and get away. Oh my gosh. My skin becomes sticky with sweat, and I get a funny feeling in my belly, like a swarm of angry butterflies.

“How old do you think she is?” One of the boys has managed to work his way behind me, and he speaks right before he reaches out a hand to flip up my skirt in the back. I swat it back into place and hold it down with both hands.

“I’m eleven. Um, I have to go. I was just going home.” I try to edge to the side between two of the boys so I can take off down the wooded path to my housing development, but they put their arms up, barring my escape.

“Middle school, huh?”

“She’s kind of skinny and gangly.”

“I have no doubt she’ll grow into those long legs.” This boy flicks his hand at the front of my skirt and, as a tear rolls down my cheek, I turn one way then the other, desperate to break free of the circle and run away from here.

“Still has pudgy baby cheeks.”

“Leave me alone. I-I have to go home.”

One of the guys tilts his head, a terrible smirk on his face. “Well, you know what I always say …” He chuckles, pausing for effect as he pulls my skirt up. “If there’s grass on the field, play fucking ball. Why don’t we have a look?”

The other boys snicker at that, and I blink, not fully understanding. Something about the looks on their faces oozes its way down my spine, stealing my voice and making me feel sick.

From behind, big, bruising arms wrap around me, like a band around my biceps. I struggle, trying to twist away, and I’m crying big fat teardrops that roll down my cheeks. “We’re going to turn you into our perfect little slut, okay, baby?” He laughs harshly in my ear. “Don’t worry, it’ll feel good. We’ll show you.”

My lips tremble, and I can’t talk because I’m trying so hard just to breathe. I squeeze my eyes shut as rough hands grab at my legs and then my undies.

My eyes blink open to this new horror, and I quickly scan their faces. All three guys are looking at me like I’m some strange curiosity.

“Hey, isn’t this the girl who wears the Star Wars panties?” It’s Shayne who snickers beside me, his eyes roaming down to my skirt as his meaty fingers continue to dig into my arm. He yanks me in front of him, wrapping a steel arm around me, trapping my other arm to my body.

Derek crosses his arms over his muscled chest. “Yeah, that’s her. She’s in my government class.”

“I’ve been wanting a peek at Baby Yoda for days now.” Carter edges closer, eyeing my legs and raking his teeth over his lip. I want to vomit.

Cold sweat trickles between my shoulder blades. They wouldn’t. Please, no.

My heart rate shoots through the roof, but this time I find my voice. “Let me go!” I shriek. The words fly out of my mouth and pierce the air before echoing through the locker room. I struggle, but it’s no use. Tears prick the back of my eyes. “Stop!”

“Aw, come on now,” he whispers near my ear. “Don’t be like that, baby girl. We just want to see those cute-as-fuck little panties of yours we’ve all been hearing about.” Shayne takes the edge of my skirt between his fingers and starts to lift it as Carter guffaws with laughter, covering his mouth with his hands.

Derek, on the other hand, swallows hard. I pray he mans the fuck up, and fast. My eyes connect with his, silently pleading with him.

“Fuck, dude. Let her go. Don’t be a dick.” Derek shakes his head and turns around, slamming his locker shut and picking up his duffel. “Come on. Let her go.”

Shayne gives a rough chuckle and shoves me away from him. “I was just fucking around.”

My chest heaves as I whirl back around, my eyes piercing his. “No you weren’t, you fucking asshole!”

My eyes flick to the other two guys one last time before I spin on my heel, and stumble blindly toward the exit.

When I make it to the door leading out to the main gym, I run smack into someone. I cry out, half sobbing.

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey …” Hands grab at my arms, stopping my progress.

“Let. Me. Go. Let me go!” I flail, wrenching myself free and covering my face with my hands. Terror still tears through my very being.

When I sense that the person responsible for stopping me hasn’t left, but also isn’t touching me, I slowly pull my shaking hands away. Micah’s watching me cautiously, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head. My voice croaks out, “N-no.”

My eyes follow the movement of his throat as he swallows. His voice comes out low and practically murderous. “Tell me.”

I close my eyes and shake my head.

His jaw clenches.

Whispering pathetically, I refuse. “I can’t. Please just leave it alone.” I turn and jog across the gym, memories of Micah at that park fresh in my mind.

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