He flipped me onto my back, the rough wood cutting into my fresh wounds, and started to undo his pants. Disbelief struck so hard, a wave of dizziness washed over me.
No. I shook my head. No way. Not rape. Not rape. I had been stabbed. I had been sliced so deep, the knife scored bone. I had been dragged by my hair and had my neck broken. But in all my years getting into every bad situation imaginable, I had never been raped.
And I wouldn’t be. I couldn’t be. I was the grim reaper, for Christ’s sake, yet I couldn’t clear my head long enough to summon Angel or Reyes. They had no idea I was in trouble. Maybe it was the head injury blocking me somehow. So I did the next best thing. I used my girl powers. With a fierce determination, I knocked him off balance. He fell next to me, and I leaned over as fast as I could and buried my teeth in his neck. With adrenaline rushing through my veins, I clamped down hard and refused to let go. I was going for the nose, but that was out of reach, so the neck would have to do.
He howled in pain and pushed until I flew off him. Fortunately, the bottom half of the bridge had a lattice barricade also made of metal. I hit it and fell face forward, but I twisted until I was on my back again.
“Son of a bitch,” he said, anger filling him so completely, his aura roiled with a murky darkness. Clutching his neck, he scrambled onto his feet and charged forward. I kicked with both legs, a shrill pain shooting through me with the contact. He flew back and tripped on the wooden slats of the bridge, hitting his head on a bolt in the bracing. “Fuck!” He clasped his head, pressed his fingers to his neck, and rocked a moment, doubled over from pain. “You f**king whore.” He glared at me – then, with jaw set, he staggered back down the bridge to his SUV.
I lay between the barrier and a train track, gasping, pants down to my ankles and barely able to move. The world spun at warp speed as I waited to see what he would do next. Would he just throw me off the bridge? Strangle me as promised? Stab me or beat me with his tire iron next? I felt like the bridge was tilting and I was going to fall off it with my pants down and my shirt ripped almost completely off.
I rolled slightly, trying to get my own weight off my back, but everything hurt, so I gave up and rolled back against the rough wood. The metal bracings overhead were beautiful, intricate, like a spider’s web glistening in the night, spinning with the stars, blurring. A movement captured my attention, and I saw Faith. Little Faith, out from under my bed and about to watch me die. She was on one of the metal bracings above, looking down at me, her expression one of mild curiosity. I heard nothing for a long time. That probably meant I was in for a whole lot more trouble, but I was just glad to be rid of him for a minute. I wished I could have signed to Faith.
Marv walked up until he was standing over me. He could have been swaying, but most likely, I just couldn’t see straight. He had patched up his neck with a rag, like the kind mechanics used.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
Like I’d never heard that before.
Then he brought around a handheld torch. Like the kind mechanics used. And I knew my life was about to get a whole lot worse.
“Let’s see how you like this,” he said, pulling the trigger on the small torch until the tip emitted a blue glow. It made an airy sound like the low hum of a gas leak. With a seething hatred glittering in his eyes, he knelt beside me. The Y at my crotch caught his attention and he paused. Still thinking about it. I looked up at Faith again, but she was gone. No, not gone. I looked to my right. She was beside me, watching with a calm dread, her chin puckering.
I couldn’t let her see this.
The flame from the torch left blue streaks in the air. I could not steady my world, but I couldn’t let Faith see this.
“If you’ll spread your legs, I’ll put this torch out and we’ll enjoy the rest of your life together.”
“I’d rather burn, thank you.” Big words coming from someone so scared, she was about to piss herself, but giving him the satisfaction of seeing the terror trembling inside me was more than I could bear at that moment. Of course, once that pinpoint flame seared a lovely pattern into my flesh, I’d probably change my mind.
“Too bad.” He put the torch down. The flame died the minute he released the trigger. Then he rose again, picked something else up, and walked back. “You could have lived another hour or two.”
He took a red plastic gas can into both hands and shook it, dousing me in the freezing liquid. Ironic since it was about to burn me alive. Damn it. Nicolette didn’t say anything about being burned to death. I curled into a ball and tried to avert my face, to keep it out of my eyes. It stung when it hit the open flesh on my back and bu**ocks, and I screamed through gritted teeth and closed mouth.
He put the gas can down and picked the torch back up. Lit it with one click of the trigger. Stepped closer. Knelt down.
I’d always wondered, bizarrely, what it would feel like to burn to death. I had seen people set themselves aflame on TV. The act horrified me. Did they regret it once the fire started?
I wanted to apologize to Faith, but my hands were still expertly tied at my back. I had no idea what he’d used, but I could not get out of it.
The torch loomed closer and Faith’s eyes grew rounder until I saw her through a sea of fire as I burst into flames.
20
I came into this world covered in someone else’s blood and screaming. I’m not afraid to leave it the same way.
—T-SHIRT
No.
This was not going to happen.