Right as I reach the landing at the top of the stairs that lead to the main floor, all the wind is knocked out of me as I’m tackled to the ground, both the man and I sliding across the antique rug and crashing into the wall. His back is against it and despite the pain radiating through the entire right side of my body, I kick my legs until I hear him yelp, my foot connecting with his balls.
Then I’m running again.
Up the stairs to the third floor this time, set on getting to the servant hallway where I’ll take that steep as hell staircase and get outside through the kitchen. I’m nearly out of breath by the time I get to the landing, looking over the rail briefly to check on the man.
Who is no longer there.
He’s not on the floor and I know he didn’t come up the stairs but…
A figure dressed in all black comes flying out of the servant’s hallway, running at me full force while that distorted war cry comes from somewhere beneath the all black mask on his face, his forearm connecting with my chest so hard I flip over the railing.
And I’m falling.
It’s like slow motion and fast forward all at once, my body light as it twists in the air, my matted hair whipping around my face as I look up to see the man watching me.
That’s the last thing I see, too, before my body crashes to the floor, the only thing saving me from a fate similar to the former madam of this house, the rolled up rugs that are waiting to be cleaned. They broke my fall the slightest bit right before I pass out again.
When I wake up, I’m being dragged by my noose through the back of the property.
Through the open yard, the stalks of dry and busted corn.
Further through the woods, getting closer to the swamp.
My feet and legs burn from all the cuts and scrapes, everything from the waist down completely naked still. The t-shirt I’m wearing is barely hanging on, catching on every branch and twig, every rock and bit of cement, which is when I know exactly where we are.
“Stupid bitch, maybe you’ll stay dead here.”
The Bissonnette family cemetery.
We stop at the biggest tomb, the one that contains whatever is left of the original Bissonnette bastard and his direct family, the one that sits in the center of the fenced in cemetery with a huge marble cross in front with his name on it.
At the base of the cross, what I see, it has my eyes welling and my chest going tight.
Pierre.
My father is laid out on the sparse grass and leaves, his hands folded over his chest, legs crossed at the ankles, his empty eye sockets staring up at the night sky waiting for the angels to come and take him away.
Still with the fucking knife through his neck.
The man suddenly picks me up and slams me against the cross, using another zip tie to bind my left wrist, leaving me to dangle while he steps over Pierre to do the same on the other one. He stands on the huge base of the cross, staring at me for a few seconds before he reaches out and hits me in the face, my head snapping back on my neck before he grabs my noose.
My attacker wraps the free length of rope around the vertical point of the cross, circling my throat twice before tying a knot at the end that forces my head to stay up and restricts my airway. He pulls a bloody scalpel from his breast pocket moving closer to me before grabbing the collar of my shirt and cutting it down the middle, ripping the sleeves at the seams before I’m completely bare to him.
I keep watching.
I watch this man as he tilts his head, looking me up and down, obviously stopping on each of my scars. Then he moves forward again, the small blade pressed to my skin but I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything until warmth begins washing over my lower belly and pubic bone, coating the lower half of my body in a thin layer of red. Which is when this monster reaches for myankles and holds them in one hand while he opens his fly again, his penis already hard and covered in a condom.
Pointing my eyes to the sky I search for stars, for anything to hold my attention but as soon as I do, the man hits me again, forcing my stare on him with a threatening hiss.
“You will see me, Leonor.” He squeezes my cheeks before slapping me then moves to hold one of my thighs in each gloved hand. “See me, bitch.” He lifts my ass away from the marble behind me, my eyes on him this time, watching as he lunges forward, his erection tearing through my flesh until he’s slamming me into the cross. “You will see me.”
He chants it over and over, the words matching each bone breaking thrust and as I watch this man rape me, violating me over the dead body of my sweet daddy, once again helpless to stop this or my impending death that follows, all I can think is…
Please god, let me live, nevermore.
32
LUCKY
