“Oh no, you don’t, Miss Abby,” he seethed. “Not this time.” The dip he had tucked into his lower lip sprayed out of his mouth with the emphasis of each of his words, chunks of it sliding down his lip to his chin. Owen crushed his cold, wet, tobacco spit covered lips over my mouth. My face ignited at the sensation. I managed to get an arm free, and as soon as I did, I cocked it back, and slammed my fist straight into his jaw.
Owen’s head snapped to the side. He dropped me and rubbed his face, which was already red from the blow. I turned and bolted, but in no more than three steps, he’d caught me again, pulling me into him with one hard muscled arm and crushing us together, chest on chest. I felt his erection through his jeans, pushing against my stomach. He might as well have doused me in gasoline and set me on fire. But, I wasn’t about to let the unwanted heat weaken my resolve to fight him off. I tried to kick at him, aiming for the very area of my concern. He laughed at the attempt. “Fucking stop it, Owen!” I screamed. “Get off of me, you asshole!”
This wasn’t just Owen teasing me. This was Owen taking what he wanted. I was just an outlet for his anger. The object of his revenge.
I had to get out of there.
“Now now, Abby. You know I like it when you struggle a little. It isn’t fair that little bitch Jake gets to have all the fun, now is it?” Owen trailed his tongue over my earlobe, his hot breath almost making me wretch. I stretched my neck aside, pulling away as much as I could. I screamed until he covered my mouth with one large filthy hand and began to pull me backward into the dark. I pressed my feet down into the dirt, trying to hold my ground.
Where was he trying to take me?
With his hand still over my mouth, he hoisted me up with his forearm under my breasts, dragging me over the jagged rocks of the seawall. I lost one boot, then the other. My knife was securely tucked in the last one. Still, I refused to let up on my struggle.
The rocks sliced painful cuts on the soles of my feet. With my arms locked to my sides, I tried to use my elbows to dig into his ribs. It did nothing more than annoy him. He was too big, too powerful. He just turned and lifted me, carrying me like a suitcase tucked under his arm. His other hand never left my mouth.
My heart raced. Every vein inside me throbbed in panic.
Jake! I need you! Was my primary thought.
I did the only other thing I could think of, I bit down as hard as I could, digging my teeth all the way into the flesh of Owen’s hand. His blood instantly flooded my mouth, tasting of liquor and copper.
“Motherfucker!” he shouted. But, he never loosened his grip, and he never missed a step.
Hot tears streamed down my face.
“You think that’s going to change anything?” He spoke with a playful tone piled on top of his menacing laugh. I knew now that this was just a game to him, with rules I didn’t have any hope of understanding.
I screamed into his hand, blowing his blood into my nose, breathing it into my lungs. I coughed and choked but didn’t stop the onslaught of teeth into skin. I bit into him again, only this time he released me. I spun around, trying to gain some footing on the uneven sand only to be met with the wrecking ball of his fist smashing into my right cheek. It crunched under the pressure of the blow, spraying the blood from his hand all over my face. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before, like my head had exploded. My entire body vibrated as my legs collapsed under me and I fell onto the beach.
“Fuck, Abby. Look at what you made me do!” Owen scolded me like I was a child who’d knocked over my dinner plate at the table. “If you’d just behave yourself, it wouldn’t have to be like this.”
Words I’d heard before and had hoped to never hear again.
Owen paused and let out a deep sigh. “Either way, baby, it’s gonna be real special.”
I drifted in and out of consciousness after that punch.
Truth be told, I wished he would have knocked me out cold.
Owen took both of my feet in his hands and dragged me under a palm tree leaning over the water. I couldn’t open my right eye, the vision in my left had begun to blur. I kicked my legs aimlessly as hard as I could, hoping to hit something or anything of Owen’s that would cause him to stop. Either my kicks were so weak they had no effect on him, or my perceived kicks were purely a product of my subconscious still willing me to fight.
He dropped to his knees, hovering over me. His sweat dripped onto my forehead like water torture. His pungent body odor mixed with the smell of the salt in the air. I spent the last bit of fight I had left trying to keep my knees together when he pushed my shorts down off my legs, shoving his hands between them and holding my thighs open with his elbows. He hooked his fingers through the crotch of my underwear, ripping them off in one swipe, groaning when his fingers brushed over my sex. He brought my panties up to his nose and sniffed. His jaw tightened. The thick vein in his neck throbbed. His rage erupted.
“I can fucking smell him on you, you fucking whore!” he roared.
He tossed them blindly into the canal. He used his knees to keep my legs spread open, then positioned himself between them.