Page 10 of CowSex

“Okay, good. Can you give me the exact address of the cabin please, Grace.”

Without hesitation, I rattle it off as if it’s my own. No clue where I pull it from, but it’s there.

“Coneflower Cabin, 423 Mountain Drive, Addison Creek, Colorado—I don’t remember the postcode......the......the, I forget, I forget what you call it.”

My words come out in a rush as I begin to feel overwhelmed by the situation I’m in. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Thanks, Grace, that’s great. I have a local dispatcher listening into your call right now, and he’s sending someone out to you as we speak.”

Her soothing tone calms me down, and I focus on not being a pussy.

“Zip code,” I blurt. “That’s the word. We call it a postcode, you call it a zip code, but I can’t remember it. Will they find me? Do they know where to look?”

Fuck me!

I start to freak out again.

My teeth are chattering, and my entire body is shaking with a combination of fear and the effects of the cold.

“It’s okay, Grace. A car is already on its way. Is there somewhere warm you can wait? Somewhere away from the house?”

I look around and notice a large shed or whatever. It’s a building with a roof and walls, and I start heading towards it.

“There’s a big shed,” I tell the woman on the phone.

“A shed?”

“Barn, stable. There’s a building.” I keep moving towards it as I explain.

“Are you able to reach it without being seen from the house?”

I instantly drop into a squatting position and glance over my shoulder. I hadn’t even thought about the person inside the house seeing me.

I have images of a man with long, dirty hair, a tangled beard, and filthy fingernails chasing me through the woods surrounding the cabin, and I let out a sob as I run, still in a scrunched down position, to the shed.

“Grace, can you talk to me, honey? Are you in the barn safely? The sheriff is nearly there.”

“Yeah,” I puff out. The barn door has a big piece of wood placed across the front to hold it closed, just like every barn door I’d ever seen in old cowboy films. I can’t lift it, so I push it from one end till it slides free, landing on the ground with a muffledthud. I quickly pull at the door, which groans with a creak that could wake the dead. Light floods the entire area and another is flipped on inside the house at the exact same moment a pair of headlights turn onto the drive.

I’m so relieved that I don’t even answer the woman on the phone as she calls my name. I don’t worry about being seen by Burglar Bill, the scary man from the woods who’s broken into my cabin. I run towards the headlights.

I don’t get more than ten feet before someone slams me from behind and knocks me face down into the snow.

Instinct takes over. I pull my knees underneath me and roll from side to side, but the fucker won’t let go, so I use both feet to give a donkey kick out behind me. I make contact and hear a grunt, and Burglar Bill’s grip loosens.

I roll to the side again, getting as far as my back before a bare chest smacks down on me. With everything I have in me, I fight.

I punch, I claw, I bite.

I kick out, but I don’t make much contact, so I reach up to his face, which is slightly above and higher than mine, and grab a handful of his long, dirty hair in one hand and attempt to claw at his face with my other hand. Instead of skin, my fingernails rip into the filthy whiskers of his scraggly beard, so I yank as hard as I can.

The area is flooded with light, and I hear shouting. The words “Police! Hands in the air and step away,” seem to echo against the snow, but I’m too far gone. I keep fighting. I see nothing as I thrash my head from side to side, hoping that if I keep moving, he won’t be able to land a blow.

Suddenly, his weight is lifted from me, and I’m pulled into a warm chest.

“It’s okay, Grace. You’re safe. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

I’m beyond crying at this stage and am sobbing so hard that the force makes my whole upper body shudder.