Hold On

“Shut up. You’ll enjoy this. Girls like you always do.”

He reaches into his backpack and draws out a clear bottle and a white rag, unscrewing the top and pouring some of the liquid onto the fabric before stepping toward the bed. Panic closes my airway, and there’s a ringing in my ears.

“Either way, you’re going to look like you’re enjoying it. You won’t remember enough to make a good report, and the video will show you consenting. Not just consenting, enjoying. Now, take a deep breath, it won’t be over soon…”

Carver hovers over me, bringing the cloth to cover my nose and mouth. The acrid chloroform scent gags me, and I think of the last week and the joy I’ve felt. How this piece of shit thinks he can take all of that away from me.

The anger gathers in my gut and explodes out of me like a cannonball.

“No!” I scream into the pressure of the fabric as my vision blurs, my strength already draining away. “No! Carver, stop this!” I mumble as the cloth is suffocating me.

I try to hold my breath. With the image of Marshall in my mind, I refuse to go own without a fight.

Tightening my core, I fling my legs up and around his neck. With my remaining power, I squeeze like a python on its prey, throwing him off balance, then I drive with all my force downward, hoping I don’t break my arms in the process. I give it my all, but Carver’s weight is more than I can overpower, and he slaps a hand down on the bed, regaining his balance.

“Fucking bitch…” He raises a hand to grab one of my legs, and I know I won’t be able to hold him off if he pulls them apart.

His fingers grip my calf, and just as he begins to tug them apart, releasing my futile grip, there’s a snarling and growling from the doorway, and Carver looks down and yells as Buddha comes running like a greyhound through the door, launching himself into the air like a gazelle.

He bares his teeth, latching onto the back of Carver’s bare thigh, and begins to shake it like it’s a rabbit he’s trying to put out of its misery. A moment later, he re-sets his teeth as blood covers his mouth.

“Jesus Christ!” Carver’s pained voice fills the room, and I realize this is my last chance.

I bend my knees and reset my leg grip around his neck. I gather all my strength and with a grunting effort I shift my weight, my shoulder pops and I scream with agony, but I slam Carver’s head down and into the corner of my nightstand.

Pain blinds me as I release my leg hold, tears burning my cheeks, but I hear Buddha’s snarling and biting even as there is no sound from Carver. When I catch my breath, I look down to see Carver laying there, his mouth open with blood already pooling beneath his head, his eyes closed, and his limbs splayed at weird angles, in a heap on the faded blue rug.

“God, please…” I sob, the pain in my shoulder more than I’ve ever felt. Buddha’s lips are curled, red-tinted slobber streaming from his mouth as he stands face to face with Carver, and I see he’s torn several spots in Carver’s leg, leaving the flesh purple, crimson rivers bubbling from the puncture wounds.

I’m breathing like I’ve just run for my life, but relief floods over me. Sooner or later, Marshall will come looking for us. I only hope it’s before Carver comes to and decides to finish things in a way that may not have been his original intent.

“Good dog,” I grit out as Buddha looks up at me, and his stub of a tail wiggles against the floor before he returns his focus to Carver.

I do my best to draw a deep breath through the pain. Looking at Carver, I don’t foresee him getting up anytime soon, so I concentrate on sending Marshall telepathic signals to come and find me. My only consolation is I forgot to text him when we got here, so he will call and text, and when I don’t answer, I’m sure he will head this way.

Just as my breathing settles and I come to an understanding with the blinding heat burning through my shoulder, I hear a snap and a pop and look over to see the outlet on the wall where Carver plugged in that ridiculously bright light starts to smoke.

“Noooo…” I plead to the universe or God or whoever might be listening. “No, no, no, no…”

Three seconds later, another pop, and there’s a flicker of flames from the base of the cord where it connects to the wall. Two seconds more and the fire ignites the old wallpaper, blackening the space above it, spreading by the second.