Chapter 2 #11
The blood-curdling, inhuman howl of my teacher echoed inside my skull. Drops of his thick saliva spattered my face.
Mr. Miller tried to reach the sharp object lodged in his back and pull it out, but Chase was faster. He yanked the bloody blade free and struck again. The weight of my teacher’s body, now rigid, pressed down on me. He pissed himself—which ended up on me. I nearly vomited.
Sobbing, I tried to shove him off me, but Chase held the body in place.
He stabbed him in the back again and again, until Mr. Miller stopped howling—until he bled out.
That night, it felt like the end of more than just his life. He took a part of my innocence with him.
I lay frozen on the cool ground beneath Mr. Miller’s dead weight, staring up at the stars. No one howled anymore, and no one cried anymore. No one moved. Everything around us was silent.
The cracking of twigs and the crunch of leaves told me Chase was moving around us. He tossed a shovel onto the ground beside me, but I didn’t flinch.
He grabbed Mr. Miller by the arm and dragged him off me. I kept staring at the stars—silent. Unmoving. I heard him start to dig, the shovel thudding into the hard soil, scraping against pebbles. I remained there, lying in the same position.
I should have run. But all I wanted was for someone to hold me and comfort me.
A long time must have passed before Chase stepped close again. His clothes were smeared with blood and streaked with mud.
He looked deep into my eyes, but he couldn’t see me—I wasn’t there. In my mind, I was at home. With my parents and my siblings.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his gaze dropping to my torn panties. He was looking for blood.
He hadn’t raped me—if that’s what you’re getting at. You monster, I thought, and didn’t answer. I had to use my head, and I had a feeling I should act as if I were in shock.
And to answer the question: no, I was not okay.
You kidnapped me. My teacher almost raped me. And you… you killed him while he was lying on me, you sick bastard. I didn’t voice this thought either, just kept staring at the stars without blinking.
Chase waited for a few minutes, then left me there.
Idiot, I thought. When he got far enough, I carefully stood up.
My heart was in my throat, my brain buzzed and my body was exhausted. My head was swimming with fatigue, my muscles burned—but my survival instinct proved stronger. I turned and ran.
I didn’t get far. Chase bolted after me in an instant, like a wild animal—I could hear his footsteps pounding behind me.
I opened my mouth to scream, but he grabbed me and pressed a cloth over my face. It had a pungent, sickly-sweet smell. The fabric muffled my scream. An unfamiliar taste spread in my mouth as the smell filled my lungs in an instant.
When I woke up, I was in a bathtub filled with hot water. The room smelled clean. The water was a balm, soothing my aching body—but it also burned my wounds.
My head was throbbing. I could only keep my eyes open for short moments—through the blur, I saw him. He was washing my body with a small, round sponge.
The rough material irritated my sensitive skin, then his hand…
His hand moved downward, to the place between my legs. It washed off Mr. Miller’s urine.
I had appreciated his careful attention—until I realized his fingers had replaced the sponge. He was rubbing me, caressing me down there.
I wanted to close my legs, but a pleasant tension began to build.
I didn’t understand what I was feeling. I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
I wished I could feel this for the rest of my life: it was so good that, in those minutes, I couldn’t focus on anything else.
I felt as if I were floating somewhere in space—carefree. A light body. An empty mind.
I liked floating. I liked this emptiness.
“Grace.” Chase’s voice forced its way into the empty caverns of my mind, filling them with disgusting images.
I didn’t want him to talk, and I didn’t want him to speak to me. I wanted to be alone with the feeling.
My head slowly tilted to the side and bumped against the cold ceramic tiles. This cleared my head a little, but my vision remained foggy.
I felt his eyes and his breath on me, but I couldn’t see him properly—he was only a blurred shape in my vision. The feeling grew stronger. The water gently rocked against my body—it lapped against my bare breasts and splashed onto my face.
Something tore its way out of my throat.
Something dirty, something revulsive, something disgusting.
I was moaning in pleasure.
Chase did not enter my body, didn’t break my hymen or draw any blood. He was softly massaging my outer labia and my clitoris.
My lower abdomen tightened, and my heart beat faster. My veins burned. My face flushed, and an insistent desire spread through my body. Because… I wanted more of this.
My first orgasm shook me like an earthquake. It shattered my walls, tore apart the shield I thought would keep me safe. My thighs trembled, and I moaned again. Small bright dots danced behind my closed eyes.
Everything looked beautiful.
The feeling was wonderful while it lasted. And when it faded… I faded with it.