“Scream as loud as you want. Your guard can’t hear you. No one can.”
He continues to grope my breast as I continue to scream for help.
My phone starts to ring, and he pauses, but it only makes me scream louder.
Please. Whoever you are. Please check on me.
“I wonder who this is.” He leans up and grabs the phone. “I wonder who it could be. Well, let’s just send them a text letting them know you’re busy.” I watch as he types out a message on my phone then slams it down onto my nightstand. “There, now, where were we?”
My voice is hoarse now, but I still attempt to scream. For once, I wish my neighbors would be nosy. Hell, I wish they would call the cops, even though I know they won’t. No one in this neighborhood calls the police. Tears fill my eyes as I realize that no one is coming. Why would they? I live in a neighborhood of
“mind your own business.” Fillipo abandons my breasts as he slides his hands lower. I swing my hands toward his head, but he easily grabs them again.
“Tsk, tsk, Isabella. If you’re good, I might even try to make this enjoyable for you.”
I gag at his words. There is no way this would ever be enjoyable for me. “Fuck you, you fat fuck,” I say before I spit at him.
He backhands me across my face, and I cry out in pain. I try to refocus, but my vision is blurry.
“You dirty whore. You will probably enjoy it anyway.”
I hear a noise and realize it’s a zipper. The fucker has probably pulled his tiny dick out. I gag again and just barely manage to turn my head as I throw up on the bed.
“Go ahead, let it all out.” He slides his hand lower, to the apex of my legs. I clench my thighs so tight it hurts. There is no way I’m giving up without a fight. “Come on, let me in.”
“In your fucking dreams, grandpa.” I continue to struggle with him, and he cusses when I manage to land a kick to his shin.
“Fucking bitch! I was hoping you would do this the easy way, but it looks like we need to do this the hard way.”
He moves off me, and I can see his pants around his ankles while his little prick sticks out, staring at me. I attempt to crawl back on the bed, and he just laughs. He pulls something out of his jacket pocket and a syringe comes into view. He uncaps it as he stalks toward me. I fall over the other side of my bed and struggle to stand up. Before I’m on my feet, he lashes out and punches me in the face. I fall to the floor as my vision goes black hitting my head on the bedframe on my way down.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head. You will still feel everything, but you won’t be able to fight it anymore.”
I feel a sting in my neck, and then my body begins to relax. I try to fight it. I try to move. I try to scream. Nothing comes out. I’m paralyzed. I can’t do a thing.
He picks me up and throws me back on the bed. I can feel my puke on my back, and I want to gag, but I can’t. I can’t do anything.
I realize now that this should have been my worst fear. I’m going to be raped, and there is nothing I can do about it.
Giovanni
Izzy: I’m busy fucking. Talk to you later.
I know right then something is wrong. Izzy would never text me that. Even when she hated me, she would have told me to fuck off, but in the last month, we’ve made way too much progress for her to respond that way.
I try to call Dante and it goes straight to voice mail.
“Fuck!”
I speed up. When Dante called me earlier, I knew something wasn’t right. Then he called me back and said the house had been clear. I still abandoned my meeting and headed toward her house. I had to see she was okay with my own eyes. I slam my fist on the steering wheel and curse.
Why did my meeting have to be so far away?
I finally pull up to her house and spot Dante still stationed in his car. I park and jog over to him, finding him sitting there, eyes open and staring straight ahead.
“Dante, what’s going on?”
He doesn’t move. I feel for a pulse and find that it’s strong. I shake him, and he doesn’t respond. I dial my phone.
