The Desired Victim

Chapter 7: This Demonic Angel

Just when I thought I couldn't get any more terrified, something like this happens. The burly man was literally dragging me by my hair down a hallway I didn't notice was there before. Everything was dark, and I couldn't even scream. A door opened, and the man grabbed me by my neck and threw me on to a mattress.

This was it, I thought.

This is what's going to happen to me for the rest of my life.

I just hoped it wouldn't hurt too badly . . .

The man wobbled towards me, and took out a dagger.

"Scream . . . and you'll . . . get this up your pussy, hear me?" He was practically drooling from being so drunk, but his threat didn't cease to make me freeze and cry.

He wobbled towards me, blade in hand, with a hungry look on his face. Blood drained from my face, and my heart was beating uncontrollably.

"Please . . . don't . . ." I begged. I shouldn't have. He took the dagger and sliced a very deep and large cut into my left thigh.

"Stop talking . . . Honeybird . . . " He drawled. "And just let me . . . f**ck you . . . like a good girl . . ."

I couldn't help but scream from the cut he just left on my leg. It started bleeding immediately and I began to feel nauseous from the sight and smell of my own blood.

Without much of a warning, he slammed himself on top of me, holding down my shoulders. His knee forced my legs open, and that was when I began to pray for a miracle. He was feeling all over my body hungrily, and all I wanted to do was die.

Please, I thought. Just kill me first.

I closed my eyes tight, letting the tears fall.

I felt something hard on the inside of my thigh that wasn't ravishly bleeding, and prayed one last prayer.

"WHAT THE F**CK?!?!"

The door was slammed opened so hard, it fell off its hinges. The heavy, toxic, foul-smelling body was suddenly thrown off of me. I opened my eyes to see Emory viciously punching and hitting the man in the corner.

Emory had been mad before, at me in particular. But compared to this, mad didn't even cover it. He was swearing up a storm, and was punching the man so hard I couldn't even tell what his face looked like anymore. It was covered by blood, and even if the man survived, he would most likely have a deformed face the rest of his miserable life.

For some reason, I wanted to stop this.

"Emory, stop . . . "

I dragged myself off the mattress with my still bleeding wound, and kept pleading for Emory to stop.

"WHAT THE F**CK DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING, YOU SON OF A B**CH?!?" Emory's eyes were filled with evil hatred, and he kept going. The man wasn't even responding anymore.