Reaper I: The Beginning (2 page)

BOOK: Reaper I: The Beginning
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Adrenaline began to course through my body, making me tremble.

The fat one laughed. “What, cat got your tongue?”

“Maybe she’s deaf,” the young one supposed out loud.

The tall dark one smiled even wider. “She’s cute, for a mute.”

“Cute enough to fuck, though?” The young one asked.

“Aren’t they always?” The tattooed one began to advance toward me. “Come on boys. Time to do what we do best.”

I was frozen in place.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t even think.

Were they really going to do what I
thought
they were going to do?

“Yup, time to fuck her and cut her.” The young one followed the fat one.

Oh shit.

It was even
worse
than it had seemed.

Fuck and cut? Fuck and cut?

Fuck what?

Cut where?

“Same as the others,” the dark one agreed, joining his fellows.

It was then that I began to feel a strange crawling sensation under my skin, a tingling that started out subtle and barely noticed, but quickly became painful, almost burning.

It started in my chest near where my heart had begun to pound.

It was unlike anything I had ever felt before.

I felt as though something inside of me was about to catch fire.

Is this what it is like to be terrified?

“What, you don’t talk to strangers, is that it?” The stained teeth in the fat one’s smile glistened at me in the darkness.

“I’m…I’m close to home now,” I managed to croak, trying to make it sound like a warning.

“Is that so?” If his proximity was anything to go by, the fat one was their leader. “You saying you don’t want to play with us? Because I sure would like to play with you.”

“Baby Boy, you wanna play with her too?” The dark skinned man asked his other companion.

“I like this one, Jason.” The youngest of the three, as pale as a phantom from a nightmare, seemed intrigued by what he saw in me  There was no mistaking the violence in his every move. “Looks like a waitress.  I haven’t fucked me a waitress in a long, long time.”

“Pussy is pussy. Good enough for me.” Jason shrugged.

 “So long as I get to stick my dick in some part of her,” said the fat one, approaching me from the left, closing in the distance between us. “She’ll do just fine.”

More hoarse words and the threat was set.

They were poised to attack.

The tension between us was thick and prickly.

As prickly as the sensation spreading through my body.

There would be a breaking point, I was sure of it.

I knew that the moment I ran they would run after me.

They would catch me, fuck me and cut me, just as they had said – I was sure of it.

I couldn’t think.

I just needed time to think!

My fear caught breathlessly in my chest, holding me captive as my heart pounded like a bird trying to escape the trappings of my own ribcage.  I could hear my heartbeat, erratic and as loud as a tribal drum in my head, drowning out the meaning of their vile whispers.

All the while, that strange burning sensation continued to scorch my heart, my chest, my skin, covering me like a fiery shroud.

As the three men closed in on me, I began to retreat, walking as briskly backward as my quivering legs would allow.

Why did my legs feel so weak, like rubber bands?

Was this the best my fight or flight system could do?

Why was my skin burning so?

I wanted to turn and run, but my fear wouldn’t let me take my eyes off the three of them…

I wouldn’t dare take my eyes off them.

How could this be happening to me?

What had I done to them to deserve this?

Jason inclined his head toward the far man. “What do ya think, Gary?”

“She’s not as hot as the last one we fucked and cut, but she’ll do just fine.”

There were those words again.

Dangerous and unmistakable.

Fucked and cut.

The whispered words
fucked
and
cut
made my steps falter.

I nearly stumbled.

Now I was petrified.

Truly afraid for my life.

Fucked
sounded bad enough.

I knew what that meant, that it implied forced sex.

At fifteen I barely knew what the mechanics of sex were—but I knew that their intentions were to rape me.

As for
cut
, well
cut
was far worse a fate.

Cut what?

Cut where?

My skin continued to itch, continued to burn.

The gap between the Jason and Baby Boy was the widest.

It was there I was going to attempt my escape.

I tried to dash past Jason, but the dark skinned man intercepted me from the right, scaring me into the direction of his two cohorts.

“She’s not as young as the last one, either,” hissed Baby Boy, while closing in on my right.

His light colored eyes gleamed at me with a cold hatred.

“Not as feisty, either.” Gary, the heaviest of my assailants made his move, his plump hand striking out of midair to grab me by the arm.

He threw me to the ground with little effort on his part and I fell so hard that the wind was knocked out of me.

“They rarely ever put up a fight.” Gary laughed as he attempted to straddle me. “It’s fucking pathetic. Even animals put up more fight than these little girls do.”

As I began to crab-crawl away from him backward, my pants dampened by the wet autumn leaves, I felt as though I were flush with blazing fever, my skin feeling as if it really were burning. The itch of it was maddening.

If I weren’t in the fight of my life – or flight of my life – I probably would have scratched myself to near death.

What was worse just then, the itching or the burning, it was hard to tell as they became one and the same, leaving me to feel as though an army of fire ants were biting all over my young body.

This trial by fire was unreal.

Between the men and the misery, how would I survive such torment?

My fear was disorienting and my situation seemed desperate enough.

Yet nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.

As the three men fell upon me they sealed not only my fate, but their own.

Six greedy male hands tore at my clothing.

Six hateful male hands held me to the cold wet ground.

Six ravenous male hands shredded the polyester pants from my hips, and ripped my white cotton panties from my virgin mound.

Six perverted male hands and a cold October night brought out something dark and deadly within me.

Something unnatural and hungry for the blood of the corrupt...

“Somebody! Help! Rape!“ I finally cried out.

Suddenly a tattooed hand struck me across my mouth, split my lip and drew blood, silencing me for the moment.

“Shut up, bitch!” Gary warned me. “Or I’ll fucking cut you right fucking now!”

The warm blood tasted like copper pennies on my tongue.

I struggled, but between the three of them they were able to hold me down.

As I was restrained, I let out a shriek that could have raised the dead.

One of my assailants reached out to grab me by the ponytail of my long, dark hair, ripping my head back to shut me up.

My groin began to burn and itch painfully, a sensation that became almost as bad as that across my chest, my abdomen.

It felt like there was something inside of me trying to eat its way out of me through my bones, my organs, my very skin.

Something that wanted to let loose with a vengence...

The sensation was such that I felt like I was being consumed alive by fire and pain.

“Samantha B.” Gary tossed aside my nametag as though it were a piece of litter. “Samantha B, I’m gonna fuck you first, you see, because it’s my turn to go first, ain’t that right Jason?”

“So you keep reminding us.” The dark man relented where he held both of my wrists.

My skin continued to itch and burn, becoming worse in my fingers than it was in my virgin mound, a spreading, burning, tingling itch beneath my fingernails. It felt as though my nailbeds themselves were pushing away from my body, growing, elongating.

There was a twitch and release of fiery pain beneath my fingernails and I knew instinctively that scratching, scraping, burrowing into something would be the only way to alleviate it.

This maddening, burning itch!

“What the fuck?” The youngest let go of my leg in revulsion.

Gary glowered at the youth. “Baby Boy, you useless fucking pussy – what’s the matter with you? Hold on to her!”

“She’s got this black shit on her leg.” The pale teenager told them. “Look! It’s like a scab, or leather or something.”

Jason released both of my wrists at once. “It’s on her hands, too. And her chest. What the – it’s moving!“

“It’s fucking spreading, man!” Baby Boy sounded disgusted, and began to back away.

Even in the dim light I looked down and saw a dark patch of something leather-like plastered against my bare leg from my foot to my groin, spreading up to my abdomen, covering my flat stomach.

At first I thought it was just black top soil from the ground where they had been pinning me.

However, dirt didn’t move of its own accord like this did.

I followed their stares to the patch of darkness that had appeared on the middle of my chest, itching and burning its way across my body.

The itching, the burning was worse where the darkness had appeared and was thickening, covering me with its skin-like coating.

While I was glad for its sudden appearance, its protection of my modesty, its abnormal nature and unknown origin horrified me.

What the hell is it?

What is happening to me?

The young one’s pale face was marked with fear.

He was clambering to his feet, clearly distressed about what he was seeing.

“What’s happening to me?” I asked aloud, fearfully, as though these horrible men might know the answer.

I was as terrified as they were of this strange transformation.

Moreso.

The young one backed even further away as did the fat one, releasing my other leg in the process.

The fingertips of my left hand continued to itch and cramp and it worsened to the point that I whimpered in pain. I watched in horror as the nail beds
did
begin to darken and grow.

The pain was so intense!

The sight of the change, unbelievable!

Jason released my right hand out of disgust because it, too, had become affected.

Right before my eyes, my fingertips turned dark and gleamed as if I had dipped them in used motor oil. The darkness spread, covering my arms completely with the same black barrier of some organic looking material.

Points formed at the tip of my fingers.

First, as long and narrow as a cat’s claws, then as long as fork tines…and then longer, thicker, more lethal.

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