“Oohhh fuck yeah,” he ground out, “I love a girl with huge tits and baby, yours are the best. Mmmph! Yeah!”
I screamed then, literally let out a full-on shriek, but it was just my bad luck that someone was screaming on-screen at the same time. So no one heard, not our fellow guest, not the theater workers, my cry of fury and hurt drowned out by movie sound effects.
But I grew up in a trailer park and know how to defend myself, I come with a set of street smarts like none other, and no fucking way was this douche going to take me against my will. So gripping my keys in my hand, with multiple pointy parts sticking out between my knuckles, I punched the fucker in the nuts, making him shriek and clutch himself in agony.
“Aieee!” he howled. “Oh my gawd, oh my gawd, I’ve been punched in the dick!”
But it was Jock’s turn to be drowned out by the racket on-screen and I took the opportunity to punch him once more below the belt, hissing, “Fuck you mofo!” before grabbing my stuff and racing from the darkened theater. Hell yeah, he got what he deserved, that lunkhead had been mauling me like I was a piece of meat, and that was no way to treat your date.
But once I was in the theater parking lot, reality took over. Because oh shit, Jock had driven me here so I didn’t have a car, and I could hear pounding footsteps behind me, Jock’s agonized roars of rage and terror growing louder. Furiously, I scrabbled for my phone, my only thought to text Brent and Jake. I needed them to come, to save me, but it’d be ten minutes before they could get here.
So I whirled around, eyes panicked, but it was too late because Jock was on me. The dumb moron was like a lumbering monster, Godzilla with small arms, intent on causing pain.
“Fuck you!” he roared, grabbing my hair.
My scalp screamed in agony as I shrieked, doubled over at the waist, trying to get away, but my curls were clutched tight between those meaty fists.
“Get away!” I screamed. “Get away from me!” I yelled again, twisting and wriggling, trying to yank myself out of his grasp even while trying to land a kick on him somewhere, somehow, without getting too close.
But Jock had two big handfuls of my locks tight in his grip, and I was caught, my head stuck in a painful position with nowhere to go, and worse, no one to see in the deserted parking lot.
“You’re gonna pay for punching me in the balls,” he hissed. “You fucking bitch! You punched my dick, you’re a fuckin’ goner.”
And he let go with one hand, raising it and balling it into a fist, ready to deliver a death blow on my head, crush my skull with one massive pound.
But suddenly I was yanked to safety and it was Jock who was a squealing, a screaming mess on the floor, curled up like a baby, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Please!” he shrieked. “Please nooooo!”
I panted, stunned at the turn of events. What the hell had happened? One moment, I was about to be beat to death in the parking lot, flattened into a pancake as a result of Jock’s rage, nothing but broken bones on the floor. But instead, now I was encircled safely in Jason’s strong arms as Brent towered above the teen boy, his massive form looming over the writhing form.
“Shut the fuck up,” Brent ground out. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Jock kept crying, his wails pitiful.
“I’m –I’m Jock!” he whimpered, “Please no!”
Brent looked at him, disgusted.
“You’re such a fucking slob, I don’t give a fuck who you are,” he ground out, landing another kick to Jock’s stomach. “What the fuck were you thinking, treating a woman like that?” he grunted with another kick. Jock was a mess on the floor, snot running down his nose, curled into a ball wailing like a dead hyena.
And Jason didn’t want to miss out on the action. His big arms tightened around me as he whispered in my ear, “You okay baby?”
I nodded numbly, and that was all he needed. Jason immediately launched himself into the fray, taking out his anger on the fucking high school boy.
“You FUCK!” was all he roared before kicking Jock in the stomach, his boot digging into the football player’s small intestine. “Motherfucker!” he screamed before aiming another deadly kick, this time at Jock’s neck.
I had to intervene then because if this went on, my date was going to die here, a bloody, pulpy mess on the barren concrete floor.
“Stop stop!” I cried, running to them, trying to wave them off. “Stop, look I’m fine, I’m fine, just a couple scratches that’s all.”