I’M NOT SURE why he brought us to this seemingly run down city, but at least the hotel is nice, and we have a view of the beach. The pool is killer. While Gabe sleeps, I stare out the window and watch a barge move slowly across the water.
It’s peaceful here.
I like it.
My chest aches and I miss my kids. I’ve been slowly weaning Land off the breast because I haven’t been producing as much milk as my hungry boy needs. This trip was the little push he and I both needed to quit for good. But now my breasts are sore. It just reminds me how much I miss having him nurse from me, even if he could only do it once or twice a day.
A buzz comes from Gabe’s phone plugged in on the table. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I walk over to see who’s texting him.
Brie.
Irritation claws its way up inside of me, but I swallow it down. I vowed I would do my best when it came to Brie. That I’d be nice to her. She has my brother, and they seem happy with the babies. It makes me angry, though, that she now hogs my brother and my husband. Stingy bitch.
I read her text to my husband.
Brie Baby: The photographer can do that date. Ren and I have been tasting cakes this week. One more month, Daddy. :)
A huff of breath escapes me, and I roll my eyes. Another little annoyance in my life. Brie and her wedding to my brother. I’m surprised he’s so eager to take on some other man’s kids. But sweet, stupid Ren dove in without hesitation to play daddy to her twins. Ren was always soft when it came to girls. Always wanted to be the hero.
It was Calder who surprised me. My younger brother fell hard for that chick with no tongue. They actually come over to the house, from time to time, to see Toto and Land. It’s Ren and Brie who refuse to see us.
Well, me, actually.
Neither of them want to see me.
I’m not even allowed at their wedding.
Fury surges through me, and I decide I need to let off some steam. I throw on a tank top and some mid-shin-length black workout pants. Once I’ve laced up my tennis shoes and pulled my long blonde hair into a ponytail, I grab my key from the desk in the room and head out. Despite this hotel being nice enough, it’s still old school with real keys. I’d balked at that, but my old man husband didn’t even notice until I pointed it out. They were all like this back in the day, he’d said. The olden days…
I smirk as I walk down the long hallways on a search for the fitness room we’d passed. When I reach the door, I’m irritated to find it’s locked. With a huff, I travel downstairs and through the lobby to go outside.
Today, it’s warm out. It’ll be dark soon, so I don’t want to stay out too late considering I don’t know this country very well. We’ve barely been here a day, and my poor husband is wiped out. After a day of fucking and eating room service, he spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping.
I start jogging down the narrow road. My ponytail swings back and forth along the back of my shoulders as I run. This country isn’t one I’ve been to before. Gabe told me I had to be careful. Freaks are everywhere, he’d said. Don’t I know it.
As I jog, I pass several stray animals, but they scamper off when they see me. A couple of cars pass by and one honks. I run until I find access to the public beach. The chain-link fence I come to is beat up, but once I walk through the gate, I find a nice beach. Not as nice as the ones back home, but it’ll do. I run past an old fat man with a hairy white chest lying in the sand and dart along the shore. It feels good to run. I fill my lungs with the warm air and grin.
Gabe was right.
I did need a vacation.
I love my kids so much, and I can keep my darkness at bay. But sometimes…it’s like I’m not me. I’m this other person. I stare at them with a stranger’s eyes. Sometimes, I wish it were just me and Gabe. And those thoughts scare me. I wonder if the stranger within me will make that happen one day.
With a frown, I trot to a stop and bend over to catch my breath. Someone catcalls me. I jerk my head over to see that I’m standing in front of a dilapidated beach house. A man stands in the shadows under the porch.
“Oye mamita linda!” he hollers in a thick Spanish accent and follows it with a whistle. He emerges from the shadows, puffing on a cigarette, and crudely grabs his crotch.
My chest aches from exertion and my calves are on fire. I look over my shoulder to see how far I’ve run. At least a mile…maybe two. I can’t even see the hotel from this distance. Unease creeps up my spine.
“I don’t speak Spanish,” I yell back as I start hobbling away. My throat is on fire from thirst. I wish I’d have thought this out before I just ran off without my phone or telling my husband where I was going while in a foreign country.
“I speak English, pretty lady. Come a little closer. Are you thirsty? You look like you need a rest.”
I turn to regard him. I am thirsty.
His eyes widen in shock when I start walking in his direction. When I’m close, he blatantly eye-fucks me. The guy is sort of cute, I guess. Probably late twenties. He needs a shower, but I don’t think he has problems getting women.
“I’m Hannah,” I tell him and give him a shy smile. “Staying over there with my husband.”
He frowns and scratches his scruffy jaw with a finger while somehow managing to hold on to his cigarette. “Husband, eh?”
“Yep.” I smile primly at him.
His gaze falls to my chest. I look down and frown to see two wet spots from where my nipples have leaked.
“Oh no,” I groan. “Babies.”
He takes a long drag of his cigarette while his eyes linger on my tits. “You look good, Mama.”
I bask in his praise and bat my eyelashes at him. “Thanks. I thought you had something for me to drink.”
He nods and licks his lips before tossing the cigarette into the sand. “I’m Pico.” With a wave of his hand, he motions for me to follow him.
I wobble after him, wishing my calves didn’t hurt so badly. I’ll drink some water and then head back to the hotel. He slides open a dirty glass door at the back of the house. I follow him inside. One quick glance tells me this is an abandoned home. Trash litters the space and it reeks of feces.
“Where’s the water?” I croak out.
The glass door slides shut behind me, and he stands between it and me. “There is no water.”
I turn to him and frown. “Then why’d you invite me in?”
His brown eyes seem to darken and he lifts his T-shirt to reveal a gun tucked into his waistband. “You know why, white girl.”
I curl up my lip. “Let me out of here, asshole.”
A dark laugh rumbles from him. “No, cunt.”
“My husband—”
He snorts and pulls the gun from his belt. “Your husband can’t do shit.”
I narrow my eyes at him and crack my neck. “I was going to say,” I hiss, “that my husband will be angry if I kill you.”
This sets him off because he attacks me. I’m tackled backward, and we land on a dirty mattress in the middle of the floor. He shoves the barrel of the gun under my chin as he uses his other hand to yank my pants down.
I don’t fight or wiggle or anything.
I wait.
When he senses I’m not putting up a struggle, he glares at me. “What’s wrong with you, puta? Are you fucking crazy?”
“You have no idea.”
He snarls and roughly grabs me between my legs. His dirty finger pushes past my panties, seeking entrance. It burns when he gets it inside me. The gun feels cold against my jaw, but I’m not afraid. His zipper goes down, and he manages to take his cock out once he yanks his finger back out.
The wait is over.
He still holds the gun loosely in his one hand while the other is trying to help his cock thrust past my panties. I grip the key in my hand to form a weapon and I stab at his eyes.
Poke. Poke. Poke.
“Fuuuuck,” he roars, abandoning his gun and me to cover his now bleeding face.
I grin as I shimmy my panties and pants back up my thighs. Sitting up on my knees, I grab his gun and point it at him. “You’re going to regret ever waking up this morning.”
He whimpers like a pussy. “Y-You fucking stabbed me in the eye!”
“Y-You tried to rape me,” I mock and then cackle. “You messed up, buddy. You messed up real bad.”
His cock is out and I laugh. Thin and the big bush of black hair surrounding it makes it seems shorter, too. No wonder he has to resort to rape. Nobody wants his tiny pecker. Poor fucker.
“Get naked.”
He hisses. “What?”
“You wanna fuck? Let’s fuck,” I taunt.
“Fuck you, bitch.”
I stand over him and kick his shoulder until he’s on his back. With my gun pointed at his face, I snap at him, “I said get naked, asshole.”
Terror flickers in his uninjured eye. With a shaking hand, he shoves his dirty underwear down and kicks away his jeans. Then, he pulls away his T-shirt. His chest is littered with poorly done tattoos, and it makes me giggle.
What a fucking loser.
“That’s better,” I coo. “Now, tell me how many girls you’ve raped.”
He doesn’t answer, so I fire a shot into his shoulder. The scream he lets out belongs to a teenaged girl, not a man.
“You psycho cunt!”
“How many girls have you raped?”
Snot dribbles down his lip and he shudders. “I don’t know.”
“Guess, asshole!”
He trembles. “Uh, six maybe?”
Six maybe?
Somehow I doubt that’s true.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Fuck, uh, fine. Maybe twenty or thirty.”
I snort and straddle his waist. His one eye widens as he gapes at me in horror. But his stupid dick hardens beneath me. This asshole will always fuck with girls because he can’t even manage to keep his cock soft when his eyeball is about to fall out and he has a bullet in his shoulder.
“Oh,” I chide. “You’re very bad, Pico.”
He starts to cry, but I’ll be damned if his cock doesn’t throb beneath me.
“You need some relief, baby,” I purr as I grip his jaw. “Need me to take care of that dick of yours?”
“Get away from me, puta!”
I laugh and obey the prick. For a moment. I find a discarded cola can and shove the barrel of the gun into the opening. The metal of the gun widens the opening. When I fire off another round, Pico screams. With the bottom of the can now bearing a hole, I push the gun through that hole too. Then, I regard him with an evil grin.
“Ready, Pico?”
“Get the fuck away from me,” he hisses as he holds up his free hand, as if that’ll protect him.
I pounce on him. When he tries to escape, I push the gun into his belly and fire off a shot that makes him scream louder than before. Both of his hands cover the hole that now spills with blood. While he’s distracted, I grab his mediocre dick in my hand and shove the can down over his erection. And then I crush the aluminum can around him with my fist.
Screams.
One long continuous one followed by another garbled one.
I sit on my butt and admire my handiwork. The head of his penis pokes out of the top of the can. Blood is everywhere.
“God, Pico, you’re messy,” I chide.
His hands try to pull the can away, but the sharp pieces of aluminum are digging into his sensitive flesh and preventing him from pulling it off. This makes me giggle.
“Y-You c-crazy f-f-fucking c-cunt,” he chatters through his tears.
I stand and glower at him. “You should have just given me the water.”
“Bitch!”
I smirk. “This bitch just fucked you up. By the way you’re bleeding, I suspect you’ll be dead before I even make it halfway back to the hotel. Goodbye, Pico.”
He moans and groans, but I can tell he’s weak. Blood spills from the hole in his stomach with every movement he makes. There’s no way he’ll live.
With a little wave at him, I tuck the gun into the back of my workout pants and tug the tank top over it to hide the bulge. As soon as I close the sliding glass door, I can no longer hear his cries over the waves. In the distance, the clouds are dark as a storm rolls in, making the water choppier.
I sprint the entire way back to the hotel with a giant smile on my face.
Pico, that sick rapist, really knew how to cheer a girl up.