Thread: Scaremonger (Mr Quixotic & Lait)

Of course she could say no to you. Get in, have a drink-non alcoholic, sit, chat and pretend to like them. Easy. But, were parties supposed to end up with rape? Plenty of times had it show up on T.V. Date rape drugs, dancing, red cups. Never had they explained how to avoid it. Never in a million years would she have though she'd be raped. It still didn't click after the countless number of times he- the ever so handsome Cole something- being as uninterested in him as she was, it was right she didn't catch all of his name when he'd walked in. -had hit her. It started with Azairah in the corner casually minding her own business, eyes following the bodies of the hypnotic party goers dancing their hearts out to the obnoxious pop music blustering through the speakers at the other end of the room. There was no need to approach her when she was obviously. Not. Interested. As usual there was some jackass who thought they had a shot. Always some jackass- no matter what sort of uninterested vibe she gave off had to be someone to come up to her. The asshole everyone seemed to like no less. Being the civilized woman she was, Azairah kindly told him to ' please go away.' 'Go away's' turned into 'leave me alone's', 'leave me alone' into 'fuck off's.' And so he did. There was no doubt dearest Cole had called her a bitch or two as he walked away. Which was fine. Azairah was used to it at that point in her life. She'd heard it plenty from the women who typically hated her without knowing her. That was fine. Everything was fine. Absolutely peachy. Dissolving away from the mass of people, trying to find as much quiet as she could in the bathroom was her first mistake. Up the stairs into a tight hall packed with groups people was the second. Meeting his misleading, sadistic green eyes was the third. From there it was the brute force of a man probably three times bigger against a one hundred forty pound woman thrown into a small guest room crowed with his entourage. The door was blocked by one, the other three standing just as she was thrown in. Telling him off was the fourth mistake. The ever so treacherous mouth of hers hadn't helped her this time. Fuck. The first thing she could think was that he was going to hit her. Right she was. A blow to the face nearly knocking the wind out of her. Stumbling over herself she found refuge against the dresser. Her dark hair, scattered and misplaced over her face. It wasn't until a split second later that she felt the actual force he'd put into it. He meant to hurt her . What was so hard to understand. What man was so thick brained to not accept the rejection of a woman. The only realistic thing she could think of was that 'he'd been abused' or 'neglected' by his mother allowing him the pleasure of hating women. That was highly unlikely in the end. A person to a person was just a person what ever the standers allowed and if big bad Cole felt she deserved a punch to the face then he would allow for it to happen. Now the fact that she was a woman in front of his friends who probably though it was enjoyable sick gave him even more power. Fueling his fire and yet another blow. For a minute- just a small hopeful minute she thought she could make it out of the situation alive. That someone would come through the doors by mistake looking for a room to fuck someone in. That all came crashing down the moment he threw her across the room and onto the the words, 'I'm going to fuck you slut,' came ripping with little specks of spit out of his mouth. Pain rippled throughout her face. No matter how many times she re-watched the videos about how to avoid rape and maneuvers on how to twist and turn and wiggle her way out situations like this... Living in the moment was undoubtedly the most terrifying thing in the world. From the way his once pompous green eyes had grown ominous and grim. It'd taken a lot to scare Azairah and Cole had done it. It was sad and obvious- way more than obvious that someone was a little sensitive to rejection. Get out. Get out. Leave. Run. Hurry. Run. It repeated over in her head yet she stayed frozen in fear of her life, screams or terror drowned by the booming party music. There was no one who could help. Absolutely no one. Her ears rang overbearingly obliterating any source of sound that could have helped her. Just her form almost going lifeless as he unleashed his never ending anger against her. Never. Never. Never had she thought it would ever happened. Behind the eyes that were near swelling came tears in her eyes. She never asked for this to happen. She never asked for him to approach her. She never asked to be invited to that damn party. Yet she came out of the kindness of her cold heart to satisfy the people around her. People who didn't like her, who adored her only for her exterior values. It hurt... Such excruciating pain seized her body. And it crossed her mind for a moment -They were probably going to get away with it too. They always got away with it because they were men. There was only one thing she could feel against her face at that moment. It wasn't his punches. It wasn't his slapping. It wasn't the pain of the ring to her face, to her cheek, to her nose, even the fact that her nose was long broken at that point but instead the fact that there was blood everywhere. Wasn't it enough for him to stop? Azairah hadn't realized it until it was near impossible to breathe. The only thing she could do was protect her face. It hurt... Everything hurt. She just wanted to go home. She wished she never came to the stupid party. Wild shrieks of agonizing pain and pleads tore through her mouth as he finally pulled her back up. The squeeze, the pressure- though he had her clear in his grip, her arm was limp. There was no feeling. Zai couldn't feel his fingers digging into her arm anymore. Norepinephrine, cortisol, adrenalin all racing through her brain telling her it wasn't going to be alight. There was no scream anymore, her heart was losing it to the stress of trying to tell herself to keep it together that she'd make it to the police office to report them. Yes... That's right.. just report them... report them and they'll be in jail for the rest of their lives. Just hang on... for as long as you- Glass shattered cutting her cheek, pulled her back into reality quickly. One last struggle with the drained strength Azairah had left in her. It was useless. Useless as she was. Stupid like her mother always called her. Worthless like her father always called her. A bitch like her sister always called her. I would rather die. And yet, there was something in her that was angry. Furious that people- no men were allowed to do shit like this to women. Not that women didn't do the same but it was stupid. It was yelling for her to stay alive. This. Was. Real. And it was happening to her. In seconds, she felt not only her body being pulled back against him as Cole took the time to rip her clothing off of her but something invaded her. Forced its way into her- tearing into her-piercing as her insides tried to keep him out. Not yet prepared, hurting and straining all at once as she tried to stop him. Salty, desperate tears came down her swollen eyes and burned at the opened wounds on her cheeks, diluting the dark blood against her. It dripped off her face gently, filling the etched spaces against wood dresser her face had be roughly pressed against. If there was just someone who could have helped her... Help... me. she whispered through her swollen lips. Please... he-help me.. There was no one to help her. Not over the loud music. Not over their loud cheering. Zai couldn't take it anymore... she was slipping, losing herself slowly, allowing herself to let go. There was no more strength in her to fight back. The only thing she could do was let him finish then drop dead. As Cole held her up, her body gave out, limp like her arm. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Make him pay. Make him nothing but a corpse. He's an animal. A monster. Broken bones can't mend. Crush him in your hands. Hurt him like he hurt you. Dead. Dead. Dead. Destroy his pride. Destroy his mind. Make sure he never wakes again. Make sure a father loses his son. Make sure the piece of shit dies. Don't you want that? Don't you want to see his blood on your hands instead..? That's when it all started. That sweetest comfort in the back of her head telling her finally that it would be okay. I hate you, she whispered barely through swollen lips... I hate you all.