Chapter 32 #3
The pig of a man smiles above me with yellowed teeth, as he straddles my body. He begins to fumble with the zipper on my jumpsuit, grasping at me with his dirty hands. Squeezing roughly at my chest. Then the zipper slowly starts to move downward.
A choked, desperate cry works its way up my throat. “Please! Please don’t do this!”
His nose wrinkles, while his crazed grin nauseates me.
I brace for this man’s vile hands to touch my skin…
to knead my exposed breasts, but he does something even worse.
Painfully my hearing aids are yanked off my ears and thrown out of reach.
I watch in silent horror as the man’s mouth begins to move.
I can read lips. Understanding fully when he says, “I’m going to fuck your deaf cunt. ”
My sobs are soundless, but the ringing in my ears grows increasingly louder, as if leading up to an ear-splitting crescendo. I am powerless, struggling for breath from the weight of this man’s body. If I pass out, it’s all over. Breathe, Cindel! Keep fighting!
The tears make it impossible to see straight, but… we’re not the only ones here anymore. A dark figure stands behind him. One second the disgusting man is looking down at me, and the next his face is turned in an unnatural direction. The weight of his body is pulled from me.
Blinking back tears, frozen to the floor, until…
I’m lifted into the air. I cling to whoever my savior is, gradually I’m lowered.
I’m in a chair a moment later, with a stack of napkins set before me on the table.
Patting my eyes, I try desperately to slow my racing heart.
Deep breath in… steadily letting it out, just like I’ve learned in therapy.
Before me, on his knees, is him. Dax is my savior. Unmoving from the shock, he gingerly takes the zipper from below my belly button and carefully pulls it up to cover me. I regard him voicelessly.
Although he’s wide-eyed, his features are soft. The pinkish raised scar etched across his neck is such a striking contrast to his pale features. He signs effortlessly, Are you hurt? Dilated pupils, tense jaw, and chest moving with heavy breaths, he waits for my response.
I shake my head from side to side, but I'm still unable to use my words.
Remaining on his knees, unmoving, and patient he signs again… I’m sorry. I should have never left your side.
I chew on my bottom lip and nod in understanding, because that’s all I seem to be able to do right now.
Move my head. I glance over to my attacker in blue, whose body lies contorted, unmoving…
lifeless. I stare back at Dax and now he’s the one nodding.
Confirming what I already suspect. The man’s dead.
Dax did that. Staring at my rescuer, he stands and proceeds to the front door of the bar, locking it from the inside then flipping off the neon, open sign.
The reality of the situation is sinking in.
I feel like I’m going to be sick. Finally, my body remembers how to function, I run to the bathroom and make it just in time to empty my street hotdog from hours prior, into the toilet.
I’ll never be able to stomach one again.
After splashing some water on my face, I emerge from the bathroom to find Dax leaning against the bar counter, spinning keys on his finger, with no body in sight.
I find my hearing aids placed together on the counter for me.
It takes me a few moments longer than usual to place both devices back on my ears, because my hands are still trembling.
“Where is he?” I whisper. I can now hear the jingle of the keys as he continues spinning them, not answering the question.
Suddenly, he pushes from the counter and tilts his head as if telling me to follow him.
“No way! Not until you tell me where he went!” I cross my arms, feeling fed up with men telling me how it’s going to be. I want answers.
He makes a pouty face. His features almost appear boyish, when he isn’t moody. Medium length, honey brown hair that he’s constantly pushing out of his face. Sharp jawline, prominent brow, and wide full lips, that rarely split to speak. Unexpectedly, he reveals a devilishly handsome smile.
If I was in high school and I found his face in one of my teen magazines, perhaps advertising some ridiculously expensive cologne, you better believe I would be tacking him up on my wall.
Ghastly scar or not, this man gave Casper’s real boy form, a run for his money.
Man-age though, no ghost boys. Get your mind out of the gutter!
Pull it together, Cindel! Dead body. Nearly assaulted by a lunatic.
He steps toward me and takes my hand, and I yield to this gorgeous man without so much as an explanation.
Dax leads me out of the back door, locks it from the outside, then pulls me toward a black 69’ Camaro parked in the alley.
Going to the back of the car, he stops at the trunk.
Using a key from the ring, he unlocks and lifts the hood to reveal a mound of blue limbs, nappy hair, and the unpleasant aroma of cheap liquor.
I can’t help the gasp that escapes me.
My reaction triggers a crack in his usual steely facade. His hand combs through his unruly hair. Pulling the trunk shut, he rounds the car with me in hand, opens the passenger door, and signs home. I lower myself into the seat, ready for this fucktastic day to end.