They shoved her hard against the wall, her skull hitting the cold bricks behind her. Her wrists were locked under their grasp. She only had one thought reverberating through her head over and over again.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
There were two of them and one of her. She didn’t stand a chance. The first hand clamped down on her mouth. The second hand locked her wrists together above her head. The third hand was lifting her shirt and holding her stomach down. The fourth hand was ripping open the button on her jeans and snaking down doing things she had never yet experienced.
Utter shame washed over her as the hot tears spilled out the corner of her eyes. It was only the beginning. She squirmed, clutching her legs together, but he only ripped them apart. Her muscles were screaming at her, but she wasn’t strong enough.
Her body went limp knowing there was no point in fighting back. Holding her down with one hand, Jason started to undo his own belt while Charlie stepped aside still restraining her wrists.
“Don’t act like you don’t like it,” Charlie groaned, his wet lips around the shell of her ear. She cringed, praying it would stop. Praying that something would save her from what was next. But her prays weren’t heard. At least not in time.
No matter how much she braced herself for the pain that was coming, she still screamed into the sweaty palm clamped down on her mouth when he forced himself inside her.
Why is this happening to me?
It was if all the choices she made up to this point didn’t matter. She’d always tried to be kind and do the right thing despite what she saw in her parents. Despite being hit like a punching bag anytime they needed an outlet. Despite their voices telling her she’d grow up worthless. Despite the voice of the white powder calling her name. Despite her decision to save herself for someone she loved.
She was still being punished.