by Day, Vella
Oh, no. He’s going to rape then kill me. The repulsion of what was to come stole her breath. Tears leaked out. I don’t want to die.
He lifted her chin, exposing her neck. “I’m so going to enjoy this. Scream and I’ll rip out your throat, too.”
Too? Jeffrey’s bloody image surfaced once more, and all she could do was nod. The murderer dragged her bra up over her breasts and the chilly air pebbled her nipples. He grabbed hold of her breast and squeezed. Pain tripped past her ribs.
Do something.
She couldn’t stand there like an accepting lamb while he stuck his cock in her. Thoughts of getting DNA under her fingernails seemed her only option. She glanced to the street and hoped someone would happen by, but the partial fence blocked her view.
“Don’t touch me,” she whispered through gritted teeth.
He barked out a laugh. “Like you’re in any position to tell me what to do.” The smack across her face came so fast and hard her knees gave way, and her ass dropped to the ground.
Her heart slammed against her ribcage as the intensity of the pain radiated across her cheek and down her teeth.
The man wasted no time. While he held her wrists in one hand, he knelt and straddled her. She struggled to get free but failed to move at all.
Oh, no. Oh, no. Her mind whirred as she tried to figure out what to do. Do something. Anything.
When his fingers reached up under her skirt and grabbed hold of her panties, she clawed his cheek and snarled. Take that you asshole.
“You fucking puta.” He tore off her underwear with one swift pull, and the expected blow to her face came so hard she blanked out for what she thought were a few seconds.
When she roused, her vision blurred and her jaw ached. He was kneeling on her wrists, making it impossible for her to grab him. She rocked right and left but couldn’t throw him off.
Stupid. Now because of her resistance, her imminent death would be more painful.
Aw, hell. She had nothing to lose. Nothing! Once more, she lifted her knee between his legs, but he deflected the blow.
“You want to play hard to get? I’ll show you, chica.” He reached behind his back, withdrew the gun and tossed it to the side. His fingers grappled with his pants button and his tongue lolled out.
She closed her eyes, not wanting to watch the sadistic bastard leer at her during the assault. All she could focus on were his zipper lowering and his hard, fast breaths. Spittle dropped to her face, and she worked hard not to gag.
She considered another tactic. Hadn’t she read that a rapist got off on the victim’s fear? Could she act interested instead of showing she was scared to death?
Reality hit. No matter what she did, he would rape and murder her. Not only would she suffer a horrific end to her short life, her poor parents would suffer terribly with the knowledge.
To hell with what she’d read. Let him hurt her—torture her. She wouldn’t die without a fight.
She opened her mouth and let out a blood-curdling scream.
