Suddenly Wren is brought out of her own thoughts by the feeling of her legs being untied and pulled back painfully, only to be retied to the same points as her wrists. When this is done she immediately realizes why, as she feels the brain searing pain of her anus being rapidly and forcefully stretched open again with the added feeling that she is being impaled. Wren now realizes that the girl had been being very gentle and probably was not as far in as she seemed to be at the time. She knew it would be coming, but she just had not expected it so soon, or was it that soon? She had no real idea of how long she had lain there or how many men had used her. She only knew it must have been hours for her to relive that memory in full.
Suddenly, as she lay there in pain and turmoil, everything starts going dark like an old cartoon from the edges moving in toward the center. When she comes to it is hours later. She is shaking with cold where she lay, most of her body is numb and her eyesight is blurred. She blinks for several minutes before she is able to look around clearly. From what she can see everyone seems fast asleep around the small dancing flames that are mixed in amongst the glowing embers and popping coals of the now dying camp fires.
Wren is now wide awake, and other than parts of her being numb that never had been before, and a slight blueness to her skin, she is completely herself. Her mind is clear, and she knows what she has to do is get out of here, but how? She tries moving her legs and finds they have been left untied. Unfortunately, though, her arms are still tied. However, her left arm is not tied as tight as her right, and there is some slack in the rope on that side. Being left handed, for once in her life, was going to be to her advantage. She works her arm further into the loop, but it just is not far enough. She lay there fighting with desperation, when she pulls her legs up to her chest trying to keep warm, and the answer strikes her. She places her feet flat against the tire and as close to her buttocks as she can and pushes while walking her shoulders forward over the hump of the tire until she can just reach the knot on the eye bolt. With some difficulty, owing to the numb condition of her fingers, she starts to undo the knot by feel. It takes her some time, and several false tries, but she eventually manages to free her hand allowing her to roll off of the tire, so she can untie her right hand.
Now, free of her bonds, she starts anxiously looking around in the partial moonlight for a trail that she just barely remembers even being there. She knows it is out there, somewhere, but her mind is a jumble on where. The mixing feelings of nausea from the drugs and alcohol mixed with the disgust of having the fluids from the raping running down her legs don't help her concentration either. Her joints are wracked with pain from being tied down for so long and her back sore and raw from being arched over the tire. She can’t tell which burned more, her vagina or her anus. Her jaw throbbed with cramps so violent from being stretched open so much that it feels like she is chewing unconsciously, and she can’t help that her eyes are now tearing up from the pain. Wren knows she is crying, but her voice is quieted by a dry, scratchy, and acrid tasting soreness in her throat, but she can feel the heat of the tears running down her cheeks.
Even with all of this she manages to spot the trail from where she stands. Then slowly and carefully she starts to head toward it, carefully stepping around the litter from the party. Halfway to the fires, while trying not to step on a broken bottle, she steps upon a stick, a small stub jamming into her foot causing her to gasp as the stick loudly snaps in two. She freezes in fear, looking around at everyone all around her. A man off on her right sits up, smacks his pillow, pulls a blanket up over his sleeping bag, and lies back down on his side facing away from her. Wren stands motionless staring at the spot where he lay for sometime before she looks around at everyone else again, and finally starts moving toward her goal. She is carefully stepping over a man lying between two fires when an ember pops, landing squarely in the flesh behind her knee. The pain is excruciating, causing her to jump. Fortunately, she clears the person she had been stepping over in the process, but she also starts to scream before she can stop herself. He rolls over so he is facing her now and all she can do is stare down at him as she waits for him to do something, anything, but he just starts to snore. She breathes a deep sigh of relief, and with one last look around to make sure no one else heard her, she starts down the trail.
It is further than she remembers from the clearing to the turn in the trail, or is it just the slowly easing stiffness in her joints and the fear of discovery that makes it seem further? A fear, intensified by her own ears, is amplifying every sound. She feels as though she can hear every bug and cricket in the woods. Then there is a whip-poor-will that just will not stop. Her own pulse is throbbing in her ears like a bass drum, her foot falls sound more like bags of concrete being dropped on the floor instead of her own bare feet walking through the frost covered spring grasses. All this combined was definitely making it feel further than it was. By the time she is at the turn, she feels as though she has to run as fast as she can back up the frost covered trail. She doesn't know why she has to, but she just feels the uncontrollable urge to run.
Coming to the shed is a shock, as it appears so suddenly in front of her in the darkness. Its sudden materialization seemingly out of nowhere causes her to stumble to a stop so that she doesn’t hit it. She goes around the back of the shed to the clearing to find the hole she had thrown her clothes into, knowing she doesn’t have time to spare, but also knowing she needs something on. She finds the hole, reaches in and pulls them out, putting them back on as she does. She doesn't care that they had been in this hole for who knows how many hours—they were hers, and she needed them. She spoke silently to herself as she finished dressing, “For as cold as they felt coming out of work, they sure feel warm now."
Wren carefully and quietly goes around to the front of the shed. The door is open, and she looks in. No one is there, but her purse is on the table, the contents dumped out across it. She steps inside, grabs the purse, and rakes its contents back into it. Not caring for the fact that this is not her normal careful way of packing her purse and only half checking to see if the contents are still there: wallet, credit card, check book, license, and sixty dollars cash. “Little tramps spent Forty dollars coming out here!” Wren keeps the keys out and heads off to find her car.
She goes around the car making sure it looks safe inside and out, thankful that the two girls had apparently gotten here last and it is at the back of the pack of other cars. Cars she had not noticed before and almost seemed to appear from nowhere in her mind, much as the shed had done at the top of the trail. She climbs in and starts it up. She notices, out of habit really, the clock on the radio says it is four twelve as she turns the heater on full. She says a prayer of thanks that—for all of its power—for a sports car, it really is a quiet car. She follows the drive or dead-end road, until it meets another road. She sits contemplating which way to turn, then she notices that the gravel is pushed to the right, so she assumes most everyone comes from the left. So, that’s the way she heads. She continues on for some time before she comes to a paved road. Again she sits and contemplates which way to go when she remembers lying in the trunk and feeling herself pushed to the right just before hearing the gravel. So she thinks if she was pushed to the right the car had to have made a left, so she turns right on to what later turns out to be highway sixty-three. Before long she sees a sign marking the Rolla city limits. She stays on the highway until she sees a hospital sign, and she makes a left on W 10th Street and pulls into the hospital parking lot. She is still cold, sick, scared and in pain, and she just hopes the staff will take her seriously when she goes in.
If you like what you are reading I do take tips through my donations page at MauraAlwyen.com and I am working toward an E-book release probably before this is posted in its entirety here if you get really impatient to finish it.
No comments:
Post a Comment