Page 47 of Mex

I never thought that would feel the way it does, but it’s soul crushing.

I just got used, and I fell for it.

I fell for it, and, more than that, I let it in.

I lethimin.

I fucked up.

I fucked up so bad.

~*~*~*~*~

“WELL, WHAT HAVE WEhere?”

Low male voices jerk me awake. I’m cold, and my skin is prickling beneath the light blanket. That prickling only intensifies when I realize that I’m no longer alone in this room. Cool fingers run up my thigh and I flinch, my surroundings become only slightly clearer as my eyes adjust. It’s dark in the room, only a dull light from outside where the party is still raging comes shining through.

“Get your hands off me,” I hiss, jerking my cuffed arm to no avail.

I’ve tried to escape, and even though I only have one arm secured to the bed, it is enough that I can’t get free. I did everything I could, I thought of every plan, but there was no way out without breaking my own hand to get there. I thought about it, but I figured Mex would come back eventually, so, I laid there and let my rage grow, and grow it did. Simmering inside me until it is ready to be unleashed.

That’s how I cope with hurt.

I smother it with anger.

The voice is a little closer now when the man growls, “And what are you going to do about it, sweet thing? You’re someone’s toy for later, but we can borrow you for now.”

We?

Squinting my eyes, I see the outline of two men. I don’t know who they are.

“She’s not wearin’ clothes, makes it even easier.”

The second male seems a little more hesitant than the first. “You know we’re not meant to be up here.”

“Relax, we’ll be quick. They’ll never know. Go on, feel how fuckin’ soft her flesh is.”

A hand glides up my leg, and I use my free foot to kick whoever it is so hard in the mouth his bellowed rage fills the room before another hard body slams over mine, his hand covering my mouth, digging in so intensely my teeth cut into my lip. I thrash and scream as he fights with his jeans, trying to get them down. There is no doubt in my mind these men are here to rape me.

I scream as loudly as I can, even with his hand firmly fixed over my mouth, and I don’t stay still. I move every part of my body, flailing to make it as hard as possible for him to get close. His free hand comes down over my face, slapping over and over again as he barks at me to shut up. Tears burn under my eyelids. I’ve been through a lot, there is no doubt about it, but rape is one of my biggest fears and, somehow, I’ve managed to get through my life untouched by the horror that it brings.

I would rather be stabbed a million times over than have my body taken from me unwillingly.

Gasping for air, pain radiating through my face, I keep fighting.

I fight with everything I’ve got.

A loud gunshot fills the room, so loud it has my ears ringing.

Then, he’s gone.

The man who was on top of me, is no longer.

A light flicks on, but I can’t get my eyes to adjust. The only sounds I can hear are those of someone being hurt. Grunts and slams, over and over again. I don’t even realize I’m still thrashing until someone places a hand on my wrist. My eyes focus to see Fury standing, staring down at me, his eyes wild with rage. “It’s okay,” he tells me, using the key to unlock my wrist.

The moment my hand is free, I launch off the bed and scramble to my feet. Panic grips my chest, and I can’t breathe. Even as my eyes move around the room to the two men on the ground, one dead, one bloodied beyond recognition, I don’t register the voices speaking. The only sound I can hear is my labored breathing as I try to stop my knees from falling.

“Acacia.”

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