Her Secret Life

Another hand reached her bra. Ripped the tiny scrap of lace and squeezed her breast.

“Help!” Kacey tried to scream. Fear suffocated her and only a whisper came out. “Help! Help!”

They yanked her sweater up, exposing her breasts to the cold night air.

“Wow, look at this...” The voice was by her head.

“Just like the photo...” She heard the voice from down by her feet.

“Oh, wow, man, I’m not sure how long I can wait.” The voice on her right...

Hands grabbed her waistband. She was going to be raped. She struggled to remember her self-defense classes but couldn’t move her hands or knees. “Help!” She tried another scream.

She would not cry.

“Please,” she said, trying to cat

ch the eye of the face looming closest to her in the dark. She couldn’t make out hair color, but she could see features. “Please, don’t do this.” Begging was supposed to be good if they were just drunk kids looking for fun.

And would only egg them on if they were psychopaths.

One nipple was being pinched, the other licked. She zoned. Became Doria. Separated Kacey from the scene.

And realized that the weight on her feet was gone.

“What are you doin’, man? Where you goin’?” Lips were still at her breast, so she figured the talker was the one with his hand on her chest and his pants partially undone. She held her legs together on her own now.

She’d have written the scene differently. On a street. Far away from the beach.

Doria was crying, which was odd. She wasn’t a crier, even when the love of her life had been killed right in front of her. She’d waited until weeks later, when she was alone, to finally lose it.

“I gotta go...” The voice at her feet was fading. “I gotta puke!”

Doria had thrown up on set for weeks when they’d had her pregnant. So they could have her miscarry when the love of her life was killed...

When the hand fumbled at her waist again, she raised both knees at once, and landed a blow to the head on her right.

He twisted her breast. “Shit, man, she likes it rough.”

She swung again with both knees, moving every part of her body she could. Sand grated against her back. She noticed but couldn’t focus. She could only move.

“Get off her breast, man, get down there.”

“Hold her legs...”

She turned her head. If she was going to lose this battle, she would not be present.

She couldn’t lose. She couldn’t.

With a knee ready, she waited for the guy on her left to move lower. She caught him, just as he was going to sit on her thighs.

“Ugh!” She heard his grunt and felt him land on her legs and then roll over to the sand.

The third guy had gotten his pants undone and was reaching inside. She turned her head. She wasn’t done fighting. With her free arm, she slammed her hand to his face, hoping she got his nose, but cried out when he caught her wrist instead.

“I like it rough, too, baby. Just wait...until I...show you...” He was out of breath. Panting. And a hell of a lot stronger than she was.

She was not going to lose...