Branches smack into my face as I run, cutting into my cheeks, arms, and legs. I can’t even think about my feet or the excruciating pain that comes every time they hit the rough ground. I never know what I’m going to step on and every time it’s a stone, a branch, or a stinger, I want to curl up in a ball and cry.
Rick calls my name, his threats cutting into me like a thousand knives. I want scream, but I don’t want to give him any indication as to where I am.
Thunder rumbles making me jump. I take another left, trying to get him off my path.
“Lola!” he roars, and he sounds closer. A panicked squeak leaves me as I jump over another fallen tree trunk, landing with a thud. I’m grateful it’s just mud on the other side because I don’t know how much longer my feet are going to hold up. I’m already slowing. I feel weak, defenceless, and there’s nothing I can do about it. My eyes catch a bush not far from where I am, and I run, moving in that direction.
I don’t bother looking around as I crouch down, crawling into the bush to hide. I’m cold, my body shivering as I curl my knees up into my chest, wanting to look as small as possible.
“You can’t run forever, Lola. I’ll fucking find you,” Rick shouts, and I jump, his voice sounding close, too close.
I pat around the dirt to find something to use as a weapon, pausing on a thick, wet stick. I grip it, ready to bring it to my chest when I hear him. His footsteps sound close and I peep through the bush, a frightened gasp threatening to escape when I see him. I’m still shivering, and when he stops nearby, I stop breathing altogether, afraid he’s found me. But all he does is bend down, putting his hands on his knees as he takes in steady breaths.
Then he moves forward, leaving me behind. Once he’s out of sight, I crawl out of the bush and run in the direction we originally came from, hoping he doesn’t double back when he realises I’m not wherever he’s heading.
Looking over my shoulder, to check he isn’t following, I lose my footing and fall. A scream bubbles up my throat as I roll down a hill. The ground cuts into my skin and it feels like I’m on fire.
My head slams into a rock when I hit the bottom, coming to a sudden stop. I whimper, feeling dazed, and when I try to sit up, everything spins and a wave of nausea hits me.
Branches cracking and the sound of dirt sliding gains my attention, and I turn to find Rick barrelling down the hill, gaining on me.
I scream, my voice loud and hoarse. In a panic, I get up on wobbly feet and grab the stick I found earlier, gripping it as tightly as I can in my shaky hands.
I step back, slowly as he comes to a stop at the bottom. My body trembles and with a shaky hand, I wipe away the wet dirt-caked strands of hair from my face.
“Don’t come near me,” I warn, holding the stick up.
He throws his head back, laughing before locking his gaze on mine. “You really don’t get it, you stupid fucking bitch. There is nowhere you can go that I won’t find you.”
“I hate you!” I scream. “You’ve ruined my life.”
“You’re coming with me!” he yells over the rain. When I see him take a step forward, I take another back.
“Fuck you. I’m not going anywhere with you. Why can’t you just leave me alone? I’m not yours, and I never will be. When will you get that through your thick head?” I scream.
“No, we belong together,” he shouts.
“No, I belong to Dean. I have ever since I can remember, long before I even knew you existed. You don’t hold a candle to him.”
“If I can’t have you then no one will!” he roars, and my body trembles as he pulls a knife from his back pocket. His face is lethal, murderous, and I know I won’t be surviving this.
“No,” I cry and hold the stick up higher, wishing I had something thicker, bigger to hit him with. It’s heavy in my hands, and my arms begin to shake, my strength weakening with each passing second.
“You make me so hard when you’re frightened.” He laughs, and I gag, crying.
“You’re sick,” I hiss.
He laughs again before his face turns cold, a deadly look in his eyes. I don’t even have a second of warning before he’s charging at me. I scream again, as loud as my sore voice will let me, and step backwards.
Before I can turn away, he’s on me, knocking the wind out of my chest and pushing me to the ground. I lose the stick as dirt fills my mouth and stones, stingers and twigs cut at my chest.
“Get over here,” he snaps, dragging me backwards, and I kick out.
He turns me so he’s straddling me, and I kick out, trying to wiggle backwards but only managing to get so far before he has me pinned, immobile. He pressed the knife against my throat.
I gasp, my eyes widening with fear. When he presses it harder, piercing my skin, I go stock-still, tears falling from my eyes.
All I can think about at that moment is how I’ll never see Dean again, how we’re never going to have a family or get married. I’m never going to see my grandpa or spend time with him or the rest of the Salvatores. My heart breaks and the pain is excruciating, worse than anything Rick has ever done to me before. This is by far the worst feeling I’ve ever had to endure; I can feel my insides pulling apart, the pain unbearable. He’s taken so much from me, more than just ripping away my identification and resolve.
“Don’t do this,” I beg, trying not to move.
He can’t take my life. I won’t let him.
He sits up, removing one hand from my wrists and sliding it between my breasts before cupping one, squeezing it until I whelp in pain. His touch is rough, hard, and bile rises in my throat as I close my eyes, trying to fight off the flashbacks ready to surface. The night he last raped me, the worst night of my life, comes to mind and my eyes snap open, forcing the images out.
“That’s it. You finally get it. I can do whatever the hell I want to you, and it’s about time you learn. You’re never leaving me, never. You don’t get a fucking choice,” he sneers, his lips curling as he tries to smirk down at me.
I choke back a sob when his hands move down to undo my jeans again, but then I realise he’s no longer holding a knife to my throat. Since my hands are already above my head, I move them farther, feeling the ground for the stick. More tears fall as I have to lie there and let him touch me, defile me.
Since I’m soaked through, my jeans are hard to remove, and he can’t get them past my hips. It gives me enough time to find what I was searching for. When the rough, bark is in my grip again, my heart hammers inside my chest.
Rick grunts, apparently frustrated with my jeans before he gives up and tries to shove his hand down my pants. I scream out, and he startles before his eyes widen for a split second. It’s all I need. I swing the stick down, knocking him in the back of the head. He falls to the side, his hand still inside my jeans. I rip it out, shoving him off me before scrambling away from him, needing to move.
I’ve never felt so weak before, my whole body like jelly. I turn, crawling on my hands and knees to get away from him.
“No!” I scream when he grabs my ankle, dragging me back. He tugs harder, and my arms collapse beneath me, my head hitting another rock.
My vision blurs, spots blinking in front of me as I try to focus. For a split second, I forget where I am and what I’m doing on the ground soaking wet.
I cry out when he grabs me by the hair, pulling back so my face is brought up against his. He leans down, his mouth at my ear. “You’re going to fucking pay for that,” he hisses, right before a hot burning sensations tears through the skin on my back. I scream out, arching away from the pain, but it only causes him to press further.
“Please! Please don’t do this,” I beg, my voice weak.
“Beg, bitch. Beg. It just makes me harder for you.” He chuckles and, to prove a point, presses his hardness against my ass. I throw up all over the forest ground, dirt sticking to the saliva stringing from my mouth. I cry out, humiliated.
He turns me around, slamming my back against the ground before slapping me across the pain. The wet sting radiates through my cheek, the soreness overwhelming.
Kicking out, I manage to take him by surprise and push him away a little, enough for me to grab the stick again. I swing at his arm this time, and the knife sails through the air, landing a few feet away from us as he roars in pain.
He moves again, and I can see the indecision on his face on whether or not he should get the knife. With that split second, I kick out again, knocking him back. He lands on his back, sounding winded.
I get up, screaming for help before running. He runs after me and grabs the back of my jeans. My body is turned and shoved violently against the tree as I continue to scream out.
“Shut the fuck up!” he shouts, and I wince in pain when he grabs my cheeks, squeezing them. “I’m going to make you pay for everything―for leaving me, for letting another man touch you, and for defying me. I’m going to make you wish you were never born.”
I’m knocked to the ground when he lands a punch to the side of my head.
“Stop! Please, stop,” I beg, holding my hand out to him as I kneel on the ground.
“Never, you fucking bitch,” he screams and walks towards the knife. In a panic, I head to the stick, making a grab for it.
“Oh no, you don’t!” he shouts, forgetting the knife and heading towards me. I don’t know what makes me do it or how I find the energy, but with a hoarse cry, I run towards him, swinging the stick behind my back. When he nears, I bring it forward hitting him in the shoulder. He falls to his knees, and I bring it back up, ready to hit him across the head. It’s something I’ve dreamt of doing since he started beating me, but when he grabs the stick and pulls it out of my grip, I scream, letting go and pummelling him with my bare hands instead. I smack him as hard as I can, anywhere I can reach. Rick’s unfazed and slaps both my hands away before pushing me in the chest, knocking me back a few steps before I land on my ass.
He moves quickly and before I know it he has his hands around my throat, squeezing the life out of me.
Everything happens in slow motion after that. I fight, clawing at his wrists to loosen his hold, but he keeps a firm grip, squeezing tighter. His face reddens and as I blink through the rain, I notice the look in his eyes, one I’ve seen from him before. My whole life flashes before me, and I fall back to the ground, the fight leaving.
Knowing this is the end, I close my eyes and picture Dean’s handsome face. I smile―at least I think I do―when I see him clearly, his handsome face smiling down at me while he makes love to me. He laughs and kisses my neck, which makes me giggle, and tells me he loves me.
The grip around my neck tightens.
I tell Dean I love him, whispering the words out loud and wishing he were here to hear them. I hope he knows how much I love him, and I wish that somehow, somewhere along the line, he finds happiness and love once again. Someone like Dean deserves to be loved, to have the greatest love there is.
White dots cover my vision, and for a split second, I think I’m dead, the pressure on my neck suddenly gone.
I thought going to heaven would be peaceful, pain free, and that my parents would be there waiting for me, but all I see is blackness before my mind goes blank and everything around me stills, the silence deafening.