Crimson Ice

Prologue

Arianna

“Help!” I scream, my voice cracking. “ Someone help!”

“No one is coming to save you,” the demonic-like voice says with amusement.

Everything is ice cold. A shiver rolls through my body as I slowly drag my weak and naked body across the ice. The shadows loom over me, and I know the demons want more—I can’t escape this hell. Hands dig into my thighs as they are forced apart.

I try to fight.

God, do I try…

Pain surges through my belly, and a shrill scream rips from my throat when the stick is rammed into me again and again as I try to crawl away.

It’s brutal and unforgiving. My nails dig into the ice, trying to make it another foot.

Another inch. Another anything. I don’t want to die.

This feels like what I imagined death to be.

The longer I claw my way across the rink, the more bloodied my fingertips become.

I am dragged back, and my screams turn even more panicked.

This is it.

It’s going to get worse.

“Grab that other stick and fuck her ass,” the voice growls.

“Please. I’m sorry,” I sob. Agony suddenly shoots through me when the handle of the other hockey stick is forced into my ass.

Their cackles echo through the rink as they jam them into me.

It’s like a game to them. They laugh as if my pain is the punchline, and my blood coating the ice is the meat of the story—details matter.

“Open your fucking mouth again and I will fucking kill you,” a voice growls in my ear as my head is pulled back with fingers tangled in my hair.

I try to apologize again, but my face is slammed into the ice.

My body is suddenly numb, and I can feel the warmth of my blood on my face.

The world is too loud. I am flipped to my back, and the sticks are yanked out of my body, forcing more whimpers between the groans of pain.

I am dazed as I stare up at the ceiling.

The metal beams look as though they are melting, and I can almost make out faces looking down at me as the weight of the demon presses down on me.

A grunt is forced out of me when he rams his penis into me over and over.

My blood is acting as a lubricant, but I can’t feel anything.

My fingers are tingling, but the ice doesn’t feel so cold anymore.

I made the one mistake every girl my age should know better than to make. I took a drink from someone, and whatever they drugged me with is making the world look different. Colors are brighter, and their faces look demonic.

Two demons with hockey sticks.

I thought if I just got across the rink and to the door, I could escape to my car.

I could get away. I’d be safe. I should have known better than to think I could outrun them.

I knew the consequences of speaking up, but I did it anyway.

I thought I was safe, but I was dead wrong.

I am so weak, but I still try to fight. I refuse to die because I gave up.

I try to push the demon’s face away when he leans in.

At first, my brain doesn’t quite understand what’s happening.

My hand is on fire as I try to pull it free from his teeth.

I hear a sickening crunch before I scream when blood is suddenly everywhere.

Hands grab the sides of my head before the demon lifts my head and slams it back down to the ice.

He is screaming something at me, but the world is quickly fading.

When my body is limp and the weight is gone, I put all my remaining energy into opening my eyes. I know this is the end for me, and dying doesn’t seem so scary anymore from down here at rock bottom. As my eyes flutter shut, and I descend into darkness, I am surrounded by beautiful crimson ice.