Page 30 of The Ecstasy of Sin

“Please don’t,” I beg, my voice breaking as fear wraps my heart in its unyielding fist. I clutch the straps of my pack, desperate to keep it attached to me.

“Stupid bitch,” he spits, yanking hard enough that my worn shoes lose what little traction they have and I fall backwards. I cry out when my back hits the cold, wet concrete beneath me. The air in my lungs leaves my body in a brutal whoosh as he falls on top of me.

A bolt of lightning flashes in the distance, and it’s bright enough to light up his face. His facial features are twisted in frustration, and his pupils are eerie pin points in the angry shadows of his dark irises.

Before I can beg him to stop, he lands a punch that splits my lip and rocks my head back against the hard ground. I groan as pain blooms, radiating through my jaw.

His rough hands wrap around my throat and squeeze. I thrash in response, twisting my body with every ounce of strength I have in a desperate attempt to buck him off of me.

He’s going to kill me.

“Fuck you,” he snarls, his hands tightening around my neck. I want to scream and hit him, to demand he tell me what a homeless girl could possibly have that is worth murdering her over.

I fight with everything in me. My fingernails drag along his thick arms, leaving deep, bloodied grooves in their wake. I struggle, twisting my body and kicking out with my legs, but I find no space or leverage to gain the upper hand.

He drops the rest of his weight on top of me, pinning me beneath him and compressing my lungs. My every attempt to gasp and draw air into my body is made impossible as he strangles me.

I fight, but it’s not enough. Why isn’t it ever enough!?

My vision darkens around the edges as my body convulses. His hands tighten, and burning agony flows through my entire body like an electrical current. He’s cutting off the blood flow to my brain.

My fragile, disordered brain.

I’m dying.

Darkness pulses around me, threatening to swallow me whole.

My mom’s beautiful face is suddenly in front of me, her gentle laughter filling my ears as bright lights dance behind her. I hear her voice calling out to me, but she sounds so far away.

I hear the sound of boots pounding against pavement, but that sounds far away too. Maybe Dad is coming to pick me up and take me home.

We can be together again. In a place that isn’t so dark, cold, and cruel.

Lightning rips across the sky, and suddenly, the weight of my attacker is gone. Just when I think I’ve died, blood rushes to my head, and my lungs expand so abruptly they ache behind my ribs.

I black out for several seconds, my body on autopilot as my brain struggles to send signals to my lungs to breathe.

Just breathe. Inhale, exhale, repeat.

When I regain consciousness, the violent urge to expel the water from my lungs has me seizing and rolling onto my side. Rain water pours out of my mouth as I cough, my aching lungs working tirelessly to stabilize.

Another violent flash of lightning, and the alleyway lights up, illuminating a scene I didn’t think I had a chance of witnessing.

It’s my attacker, flat on his back, with a monster of a man straddling his chest, pummeling his face with punch after unforgiving punch.

The sound of fists slamming into flesh and bone is nauseating and horrific, mixing with every beat of heavy rain on the concrete like a symphony of violence.

I want to scream, but the only sound that comes out of me is a mixture of coughing and gasping as my body fights to oxygenate itself.

My wide eyes are locked onto what is unfolding in front of me, and like a car accident, I can’t look away.

A thunderous boom detonates in the sky, casting brilliant light on the man that just saved my life.

His face is twisted in fury, his lips curled in a feral snarl. He’s dripping rain, and blood, and wrath—and I swear I know him. I swear I’ve seen that devastatingly handsome face before, even now when it’s distorted by pure hatred.

My voice is gone, and my muscles are trembling and weak. All I can do is watch in horror as my attacker’s face caves in under the onslaught. A flood of thick, blackened blood spills from what used to be his face, splattering all over the man straddling his chest.

My breathing finally evens out enough for my vision to clear, but adrenaline is still pumping through me. I scramble upright, my hand flying to my bruised throat, as I sputter from the rain pelting my bloodied lips.