51. Win
51
Win
Six Years Ago
T onight’s the night.
I think I’m finally ready. Or as ready as I mentally can be. I’ve got it all planned out— if it’s dark, he won’t see my scars. I packed stolen lube packets and condoms in my backpack. At this point, I've researched, prepped and over thought it more than enough.
My mind’s made up: I’m losing my virginity to Remy.
After his track meet.
He’s been agitated and defensive lately and while I want to be the person he leans on, I’m struggling. Disassociating. Numb. Maybe by taking this step, both of us can feel something good.
Call it excitement or nervousness, but I’m too jittery to sit at home. Not even V can calm me down. Hundreds of insecurities whip around like race cars, occasionally crashing and exploding into flames.
Taking the new route to Kingsbury that I discovered when escaping Grant the rain soothes me. I’ve got hours before the bus returns. Hopefully the walk clears my head.
Halfway down the path through the copes of trees, I finish my joint and toss the roach into the underbrush. The mild buzz humming beneath my skin releases some tension, but I’m still anxious as fuck.
Music . Music always helps.
I sling my backpack off my shoulder to dig in the front pocket for my headphones and phone.
They’re not there.
With a huff, I drop to a crouch and open up the main zipper.I swear I packed them. I never leave the house without them…
“What do we have here?”
That voice is ice water dumped down my spine.
They say monsters aren’t real. That they’re used in stories as cautionary tales. But I disagree. Monsters are very real. They hide in plain sight, wearing good, upstanding, charismatic skin suits, banding together in secret groups. They’re experts at camouflage, mimicking likable characteristics to deter anyone from noticing the evil, emptiness in their eyes. And when they find suitable prey, they shed their facades like poisonous reptiles, molting until their true form is revealed.
Slowly I pivot on the balls of my feet.
Staring down at me with a gruesome grin is the reigning king of monsters: Grant Larson. Beside him, poised to strike like the venomous snake she is, stands his right-hand bitch, Jessica.
“You owe me a hundred bucks. I told you he’d go this way,” she hisses, slinking closer. “He has been all week.”
Instinct screams to shuffle back, but my legs have sprouted roots, anchoring me in the dirt.
Grant shoots her an annoyed glare. “No, you got the time wrong. You said in a few hours when the track team gets back.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be cheap. Pay up.”
He scoffs, “Later,” and returns his unwanted attention to me. Every unseen bruise he’s inflicted on my body screams. His grin widens. “Aww, are you excited to see us, fag?”
At my silence, he clicks his tongue. “You like to play hard to get, but we all know you’re a slut for attention. Let me guess, you’re going to let that little boyfriend of yours use you like the willing whore you are, aren’t you?”
They’re just empty words. They mean nothing .
“No, he totally gives virgin vibes,” Jessica hums, towering over me now. My knuckles bleach as I fist the nylon strap of my backpack. Her shadow engulfs me, a cruel sneer on her pouty lips. “We should show him what he’s been missing.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My pulse accelerates. I’ve been rendered mute. Grant’s scrutinizing gaze rakes over me, then flicks over my head—
A foot slams into my back.
My hands shoot out—
Roots and small rocks cut my palms. Dark laughter rings in my ears as the newcomer snatches my backpack. Pure terror rockets through me. I twist free of the heavy foot pinning me down and lunge for the bag—
Pain explodes through the side of my head.
Black vignettes my vision.
“Lube and condoms? Virgins don’t carry those around,” snickers Marcus.
I blink rapidly. Shit . Pushing up on all fours, I wobble.
Another blow below my ribs.
“You know, Jess might be onto something here,” Grant muses, his shoe digging into the same spot he just kicked. With a cry, I collapse to the ground, curling in on myself.
“Then how do you explain this shit?” Marcus asks, snapping the string of foil packets.
“Just because he’s a virgin, doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it,” Grant chuckles. “Clearly, his little boyfriend isn’t giving him what he needs.”
No , please no .
“Wait, let’s film it so he can learn!” Jessica exclaims.
“No way,” Marcus balks.
“Why not?” Grant shrugs, his menacing glare locking on mine. “He’s not going to tell anyone. He wants it.”
I should’ve told Andrea.
“He totally does,” Jessica giggles.
“Even if he does try, we’ll edit the video to show just how much of a slut he is for us. No one will believe him, especially not his little boy toy.”
Panic sets in. Adrenaline dulls the agony radiating through my skull and side. Rolling onto my knees, I scramble to get my feet beneath me. My sneakers slide on dead leaves, fingers sinking into the earth—
A blocky heel descends on the back of my hand.
I scream.
“One of you, shut him up before I press record,” Jessica barks. The fine bones in my hand screech as I flail, desperate to free myself from her.
Legs bracket either side of me.
A meaty hand slaps over my mouth at the same time one sinks into my hair, grips the roots and rips my head back.
“And… action!” Jessica shrieks.
“Fight me and I’ll make it hurt more,” Grant hisses in my ear.
Fuckfuckfuck .
The threat isn’t enough to stop survival mode from kicking in. I'm bucking and thrashing and howling—
He drops his full weight on my ass as he yanks my hair hard enough to tear tufts out, forcing me to arch. The tendons in my neck strain. The canopy above blurs. A few fat raindrops smack my cheeks. Marcus kneels in front of me, palm flat and lips puckered—
Blowing pink dust in my face.
Stinging. Burning. Choking.
My heart rate skyrockets. Heat spreads through my limbs. Marcus’s face warps, his lips stretching into a horrifying Cheshire Cat smile. Radio static roars in my ears. Hands grasp my wrists, pulling them out from beneath me—
Damp earth fills my mouth.
Grant’s voice is slowed and reverbed. “Hold him.”
So… dizzy .
Rough hands tear my pants down.
Grains of dirt crunch between my molars. My tongue is sandpaper.
Coughing, I twist my head. My lips move around the word, “ Stop ,” but no sound comes out. Tingling stretches to my fingers and toes. Two torn foils crumble to the ground inches from my gasping mouth. Each breath is like inhaling fire ants.
No. I’m covered in ants. Tiny legs skitter all over me and they’re biting and biting and—
“Wait, I think he wants you both at the same time,” Jessica cackles.
“Get him on all fours.”
Like a ragdoll, I’m hoisted between two men twice my size. They’re giants. Enormous and grotesque. Curling horns sprout from Marcus’s skull, wrapping around like a ram’s as he straightens and unbuckles his belt. Then unzips his fly.
The ants have overtaken my face.
He grasps my jaw.
Doesn’t he see the insects eating me alive?
Something prods my backside.
I can’t breathe.
Can’t move.
None of this is real. It’s just a nightmare .
Sharp, stabbing pain tears through my rectum—
My jaw falls on a cry.
A hard, salty rod jams past my teeth straight to the back of my throat. Grunts coalesce with deranged giggles. A blaze of horrific, unending agony ravages my insides.
I’m.
Dying.
Over and over and over.
“Flip him. I want a turn,” the demon-woman behind the camera demands.
No.
No more .
The shell I’ve become can’t take it.
Laughter.
The world spins.
Air returns to my lungs, saliva and blood from my cracked lips drip out of the corners of my mouth. Jessica hands Marcus the phone. His horns have tripled in size, his eyes pits of tar. Grant resumes, the visceral agony even worse than before.
Someone… save me.
“Get him hard, Jess.”
A small, soft hand grabs me and jerkily tugs.
Bile pools in my mouth.
The tingling travels down.
My body betrays me.
Helpless, dry sobs rattle from my raw throat. Grant finishes in a frenzy of brutality. They don’t even care about my hoarse screams anymore.
Then Jessica straddles my hips.
I’m nothing but a piece of meat shredded by feral wolves. Black and white specs dance in my vision. The ants have chewed through my skin. They feast on my flesh until they reach the bone. The dirt beneath me is now mud, sucking me into the earth.
Swallow me whole.
Once they’re satisfied, I’m tossed aside. Snot, tears, drool, sweat and blood cover every inch of my being; I’ve been reduced from human to fluid, washing away in a rainstorm.
Cleanse me of this nightmare.
Eternity passes.
Rain comes and goes.
Bruising throbs and knife-like stabs escalate.
Death… please take me .
But Death isn’t listening. No one is.
I can’t stay here. I need to leave this hell of a town. I have to break my promise because if Remy finds out… it’ll destroy him. I have no choice but to break him.
Break us .
Even if it kills the last sliver of my soul.