by Nina Levine
This is it. He's going to kill me.
He dragged me off the floor. The tears rolled down my cheeks from the pain. I could distinctly smell the alcohol on his breath as he put his face up to mine. He stuck out his tongue and licked my face—blood, tears and all; it turned my stomach. I tried to turn away, but he grabbed my jaw and turned my face back to him, causing me to yell out in anguish.
“You're mine now. I'm going to lick you, suck you, and fuck you. You need to be taught a lesson, bitch."
Shit. He's gone absolutely crazy!
"Get...Away...From...Me...You...Sick...Fuck. Don't touch me." With every word I spoke, the pain was worse. Attempting to push him away from me, I tried to find the strength to talk, but I couldn’t. I was dying; I was sure of it.
He pinched my breasts and twisted my nipples through the robe I had changed into after the ceremony. He glided his hands down to my underwear, slipping his thick fingers inside and roughly penetrating me. I could feel his sharp nails scratching the walls of my cervix as he continued to thrust his fingers into me.
"You’re dry. What a shame. The top model isn't wet. Shame. Shame. Shame. I'll get you wet, sweetheart."
His words made my skin crawl. My instant reaction was to spit at him in disgust. Bloodstained saliva dripped down his cheek, and I flinched.
Tate Turner was now totally enraged. Oh, shit. His face transformed into something more evil and sinister. I flopped back down onto the floor. He was now ruthless and unstoppable. He lunged for me and grabbed me by my hair, now sticky with blood.
The blow to my head was so hard and quick this time; I never saw it coming, but I sure felt it. I was becoming weaker by the second. My eyes started to roll around in my head. I was going to die.
I ached. Everywhere.
I was fading.
Fading away to nothingness.
Blackness.
Silence.
Peace at last.
******
My eyes fluttered open. Then they closed again.
I thought I could hear people talking and wondered if was Mia talking to someone. My head felt heavy, so I couldn't quite make out what they were saying very well.
"Look, Ms. Brunetti. When she was brought in last night, the police asked her who did this to her, but she insists she cannot remember her attacker. Your sister won’t or can't tell us what happened. She's suffered severe head trauma. All we know is she was attacked and assaulted by a stranger. We do know she wasn't raped. There is absolutely nothing the police can do if your sister can't remember who did it. I'm sorry, Ms. Brunetti." The sound of her shoes on the tiled floor and a door opening and closing let me know she had left the room.
Sister? Why is Mia telling them I'm her sister?
"She can’t remember? Damn it, Jada, wake the fuck up!"
Desperately, I tried to open my eyes again. It was a struggle to keep them open. As I looked at my surroundings, I realised I was in the hospital with Mia holding my hand.
"Hey, kiddo. Finally, you are fully awake!"
"I need your help, Mia," I rasped. My throat felt like it had been scraped with a knife. Maybe it had; I couldn't remember a thing after I passed out. All I could recall was a sense of pure relief; relief that he was gone. I was alive. God knows how, but I survived.
"Look, honey, try not to talk, okay? You look like hell, Jada."
"Thanks," I managed to whisper in a croaky voice.
"I'll go let them know you're awake."
Mia smiled at me before turning to walk out the hospital door to look for a nurse or doctor. She stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “It's all going to be okay now, Jada. We will find out who did this, and he will be charged. Once you have your surgery tomorrow, I’ll get you discharged as soon as possible."
"Surgery? What surgery am I having, Mia?" I questioned.
"Listen, Jada, I don't think you understand the extent of your injuries. There is a lot of internal damage and they need to repair it. You can't go anywhere, not just yet, anyway," Mia soothed me, walking back into the room and rubbing my arm affectionately. “I haven’t told anyone, either, Jada. I even had to lie and say I was your sister Milan; otherwise, they would have called your parents. There was no way I was going to let your parents see you like this, Jada. You're a mess. Your parents don’t need this right now.”
God, I loved this girl. We grew up together, and she truly was like another sister to me. Just like my younger sister Milan, only bossy!
“Listen, what if I call my brother, Max, or his friend Zane? Zane is a detective, Jada; he will know what to do and how to find that fucker.” Mia paced around the hospital room, obviously agitated.
"No! Please don’t tell anyone, Mia. Especially not Max, please. Nobody can know what happened, Not one single person,” I pleaded. “Do you understand me? I’m scared, Mia, scared of what he will do to my family, to me, to you if I go public. I’m a famous model. I can't risk all the publicity I'll receive if this goes public. I can’t do it. I can’t. No one must know, Mia, ever. Please, promise you won’t ever tell anyone, please.”
“Okay, Jada, but please calm yourself down. I love you so much; you’re like the sister I never had. I was so scared when I found you in your dressing room. You have no idea how long I stood there, staring at your bruised and battered body before I called security. I thought you were dead, Jada, DEAD! You scared the shit out of me. I won’t say anything for now, but you are going to tell me who the fucker was that did this to you, and I want to know now!”
“Deal, but for now, I just want to go home, Mia. I need to go home. I have to be around my family. I can't exactly model looking like this anyway, can I?"
"Home? When you say home you mean home, home, as in the Barossa, or your apartment here in Sydney?" Mia probed.
“The Barossa. I want to go home, Mia. To the Barossa.”
*****
COMING 4th AUGUST 2014
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