01 Nov Demons On My Heels
She was a complete mess. She had smoke and leaves in her hair,her shoes were in her hands,her purse under her left arm, her left palm was wrapped tightly around an alomst-empty bottle of red wine and her right hand was juggling two phones. Her face was blank and pulled in a frown.
She didn’t look at him or the bike. She just hopped on and mumbled directions. She didn’t even pay attention enough to hear his reply. Almost immediately her ass got on the seat, the bike moved. Almost knocking her off. That jolted her awake from her semi-drunken state.
He smelled like rotten pineapples and alcohol. He was bobbing his head to music she couldn’t hear. She assumed his ears were plugged. Something about him was odd and disconcerting but she didn’t know what. She was too far out herself.
Suddenly, the bike stopped. So sudden that she was thrown forward into him. He chuckled and continued without apology. She was stunned. Had she imagined that? He went back to mumbling to himself and bobbing his head. She wondered if he was sane. If she was sane. And where the hell was he taking her sef?
She could barely see anything in the dark. The bike’s head lamps were too dim for her to see beyond her nose. But she saw enough to know she was almost home. That thought relaxed her. She sighed and drifted off in her mind. Trying to remember earlier events in the day. And then the bike stopped again.
She heard him ask her to alight please. And she obeyed. Just as her feet touched ground, she was roughly pulled by the hair by abnormally coarse hands. She fell flat on her face before she could take one step. She heard laughter and felt hands on her. She was trapped between fear and unawareness.
The hands groped her in every public and private place. And then the hands were replaced by something else. He beat her on the face with it first then shove it in her mouth,down her throat. She couldn’t breath. She didn’t want to breath. She felt something cold like a bottle forced into her vagina.
He withdrew it from inside her slowly and then slammed it back in. She couldn’t cry out. Her mouth was filled with horror and flesh. And Then she felt liquid and the sweet-sour smell of wine. He poured every ounce of red on her and himself in her mouth.
She couldn’t cry. She didn’t pass out. She didn’t scream. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. She heard him laugh that sickening sound. She heard him start his bike. She heard him drive off into the darkness. Yet, she laid there. In a pool of sour liquid.
That was when she remembered how her day had started. It had started with music and smoke. In her room. She dragged herself up. She had been lying on her purse and and one shoe. She picked them up and walked the rest of the way to the house. Her room. Her demons on her heels.