It’s like at my school. Harmless words at first, until a weak spot is found. After that, they always want something from you. Money, in Mr. Spock’s case. For me, it was often my school things, which were then destroyed. The next level is a physical attack. Escape routes are cut off, and you’re boxed in. Pushed. Hit. Or more.
I’m numb with fright. John slowly takes the path up. “You really can’t speak? Not even scream?”
I swallow and look from one to the other, my legs paralyzed. The black-haired man climbs over the slackline and focuses on me like a sniper’s crosshairs. “She doesn’t have to talk to get fucked, right? It has its advantages.”
“Well, I like it when women scream my name.” John is level with me.
At that moment, the numbness disappears from me, and my body reacts. I rush through the bushes toward the motel. Toward River. Toward security.
“Dammit, stop!” John shouts from behind. “It was only a joke, little angel!” Thorns rip at my arms, sharp as barbed wire. The slope is steep and overgrown with bushes. My long hair gets caught on a dry branch, and I pull out a clump as I rush forward. Tears reflexively spring to my eyes. Footsteps follow me, and branches break under the weight of heavy soles. I’m not fast enough.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see John running down the path.
River!I scream silently.I’m here!
I try to take a sharp corner but lose my footing on the soft earth, staggering forward and landing hard on the gravel. But I don’t feel any pain.
“Look who’s trying to get away. We ain’t gonna hurt you.”
Before I can get to my feet, Jack pulls me up and twists my arm behind my back. A thousand glowing needles pierce my shoulder joint.
“You’re really not screaming, little angel. Good,” John, who has now caught up, whispers. I gasp, and Jack loosens his grip.
Now I get it. That was a test. Now they know how truly helpless I am.
“I’ll tell you what happens now,” John says quietly. I turn my head away because he still smells of rotten meat and liquor. I stare at the ground with shimmering eyes, hearing his words as if through water. “I have a key to a room. My old man was so drunk he didn’t even notice. Even if he had, little angel, he wouldn’t care. After all, his brother is the police chief of this community. My old man is basically above the law. So now, we’re gonna take you and this key, find a cozy room, and have lots of fun. Got it?”
John’s words flash through my head, but in my fear, they become a meaningless jumble of disjointed words.
They start moving, and Jack pushes me forward. But they’re going in the wrong direction. They walk across the back, not around the outside to the front, where someone else might see me.
“Get going!” There’s our window, and behind it is River. I struggle against his grip with all my strength, but it’s no use. This time, Jack pushes my elbow so high that the pain shoots up my arm, and a host of red stars flicker before my eyes.
They lead me to a room unseen from the front, right behind the reception desk and maybe part of Buddy Miller’s private residence.
The blond catches up. “It ain’t the honeymoon suite, but you’ll still like it.” He opens the door with one hand, and the black-haired man shoves me inside.
All I hear is the door slamming shut with a squeak.
Chapter 16
Iretreat step by step, my heart is racing. I want to scream, to shout, but the doors to my words are closed tighter than ever before.
The black-haired man approaches, a dangerous glow in his eyes, while the blond pulls his lumberjack shirt over his head in a single movement.
The smell of sweat and alcohol permeates the air. The wordsnoandhelpspin in my mind. I hear them speaking, but I don’t understand anything. Their laughter seems to come from all around.
When my back hits the wall, my gaze falls on the window across from me. I consider leaping and pounding my fists against the glass, but the black-haired man is too close.
Do something! Anything!
There’s static in my ears, like it’s between two stations, and I notice John is closing the curtain. After that, everything happens much too quickly. With the last of my courage, I run toward the door, but I stumble straight into the arms of the black-haired man. I kick, thrash, and grab his hair. He gasps. I claw at it with my fingers, yanking and not letting go, like a dog sunking its teeth into something.
I don’t know how or in what order it happens, but I hear him curse, and something hits my face full force.
Stars explode along with pain, and for seconds, all I see are colorful patterns on a dark background.
He overwhelms me, but it doesn’t register until I’m on the bed and taste blood. The black-haired man sits on top of me and presses my hands next to my head.
