Nicole

 

Nights like these were part of the reason I wished I had a car. The grocery store was only a little ways down the road from my apartment and not reason enough to take the bus. I’d have to walk halfway there after I got off anyway, so it was better to save the money. Normally, I tried to shop in the day time, but since I usually worked days, it was hard sometimes. I thought about putting it off a little longer, just until the weekend maybe, but I was jonesing for cookie dough ice cream. Besides, I needed something to distract me from Maxwell.

 

Ever since we’d met only a few short days ago, he’d been working his way into my mind and my subconscious, but after that morning, I couldn’t even pretend I wasn’t thinking about him.

 

Or that I didn’t want him.

 

That kiss had been more powerful than any sex with Ben I’d ever had. His body had felt hard leaning against mine, possessive and strong and tender all at once. The way he’d held me was like wrapping hot metal around myself—burning, intense, and both pliant and solid at the same time.

 

His lip had been split and must have been bruised, but he didn’t seem to care. All he cared about was covering my mouth with his and letting his tongue explore me thoroughly.

 

I shivered at the thoughts of where else he could explore. Ben didn’t like doing that, but I had a feeling Maxwell was different. I thought he might be the kind of guy who wanted to put his tongue between my legs and taste me before he dove inside me.

 

Blushing furiously, I shook my head in an attempt to shove the thoughts away from me.

 

Why am I thinking of sex with him? When did I decide that was something that should happen? I thought as I walked towards the store. The sidewalk went the whole way from my apartment to the store, but it was cracked and falling apart, lifted in so many places that it was kind of like walking up and down stairs over and over again.

 

This morning, I’d thought we were going to have sex, and I admitted it, I wanted it. Desperately. I had been pretty sure he wanted it, too. I could feel his growing desire pressed along my belly just above my nether region and the way he kissed me…yes, he’d definitely wanted it, too.

 

But then he’d gotten that damn phone call and it seemed like whoever had been on the other end derailed him completely. He had said it was nothing, then took me home. Now I couldn’t figure out what I should be doing, mostly because what I felt like doing was calling him and insisting he come over to finish what he’d started. I had a feeling that that was probably not the right move, thus, my need for ice cream.

 

The streetlights overhead weren’t the best here. The area wasn’t the worst part of town—this was suburbia after all—but this was the closest to downtown that we had, and there were alleys off to the side that were completely dark. Just as I crossed one of these alleys, the light overhead flickered and buzzed. It freaked me out, but I forced myself to be calm.

 

I’d made this walk a thousand times.

 

Just as I was about to step up onto the next curb, I saw them. Two men. Tall, shadowy, wearing what looked like black pants and black jackets. At first I thought I couldn’t see their faces because of the shitty overhead light. Then they got closer and I realized they were wearing Halloween masks. One was a U.S. president. I couldn’t tell who the other was supposed to be.

 

Sucking in a harsh breath, I quickened my pace, but it was already too late.

 

I felt one of them grab me just as a laugh echoed against the brick walls beside us. It sounded harsh and full of maliciousness. Whichever one had a hold on me jerked me back harshly. I lost my footing and stumbled to the ground, putting my hands out to catch my fall as my knees hit at the same time. I winced, but barely had time to focus on the sudden pain, because they laughed again.

 

“Already on her knees,” one of them said, his voice deep, but muffled thanks to the mask.

 

Just as he said it, the other grabbed my shoulder harshly and shoved, forcing me to flop over onto my butt instead so I was staring up at them. They were both standing in front of me, blocking the entrance to the alleyway, and dread flooded my system.

 

One was working on his belt as the realization hit me: they were going to rape me.

 

A mixture of adrenaline, bile, and pure fear tried to work its way up my throat as I searched desperately for an escape. There was no getting through them to the mouth of the alley, so I tried scuttling back, hoping there might be an exit. Before I got very far, the other guy grabbed me by the arm and threw a hard slap into my face.

 

I cried out.

 

My cheek stung and I tasted blood on my lip. It was split open. I started to cry, not so much from the pain, but because I saw the guy’s pants were undone in the front and he was reaching inside.

 

I opened my mouth and cried out, “Help!” but I only got that one word out before I was hit again. It was hard enough that I slammed back into the ground. For a moment, I just lay there.

 

What do I do, oh my god, what do I do?

 

My thoughts tried desperately to search for a solution, but there was none. There were two of them, so much bigger, so much stronger, and there was no exit. Now that I could see a little bit better down the alley, I saw there was no exit, only a brick wall. My heart pounded in my chest and my stomach roiled against what was happening.

 

This was it. There was nothing I could do.

 

One guy pinned me down by the shoulders. I thrashed and kicked and scraped at him, but he only laughed at me. The other guy grabbed onto my ankles and shoved them down. He used his knees to pin them to the ground by my thighs, forcing them open as he pushed up my skirt to get between my legs.

 

I begged and cried and pleaded with them. I said no a thousand times. They didn’t listen, only laughed.

 

Just as I closed my eyes, not wanting to see as well as feel what was about to happen, everything stopped. The pressure on my legs vanished and the guy between them was suddenly gone. I heard one of them say, “Shit.” The grip on my shoulders lessened before retreating altogether.

 

Instinct had me pulling my legs up to my chest, gripping them tightly as I tried to become as small as possible. When my eyes finally found the strength to open, I saw something that somehow made everything a little better.

 

Maxwell.

 

He had one of them by the scruff and was beating him so hard I heard crunching and squishing mixing together to bounce off the walls of the alley. The other guy was running away. I heard an engine—a motorcycle?—start somewhere in the distance. It revved and then faded. Still Maxwell held onto the man, his fist making contact over and over again.

 

Finally, when the guy was no longer moving, I let out a squeak that might have doubled as a sob. The noise seemed to pull Maxwell out of whatever rage he’d been experiencing, because he let the man slump to the floor. Oh, god, is he dead?

 

I couldn’t be sure, and I couldn’t be sure I cared. All I cared about was Maxwell being there to save me. All I cared about was that I wasn’t raped.

 

I sobbed again and carefully, moving slowly as though approaching a wounded animal, Maxwell came to me. Carefully, he pulled me up into his arms. He soothed me, petting my hair, whispering soft, comforting words I didn’t process. And he walked me all the way home, carrying me securely in his arms.

 

We arrived at my apartment not much later. He started to put me down, but I threw my arms around his neck and clung tightly to him, unwilling to let him go. I wasn’t ready to be alone. In response, he held me tighter.

 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, even though it wasn’t. “I just need your key, okay? I’ll get you inside.”

 

I must have told him it was in my pocket, because one of his hands snaked in there and suddenly he was carrying me inside. He kicked the door closed behind him and didn’t put me down until we got to the couch. I was still reluctant to let go, but eventually I did. Mostly because he said he wanted to lock the deadbolt on the door first.

 

When he had done so and came back, I was sitting up, wiping at my face. I was trying to regain composure, but it wasn’t working. He lingered near the couch before finally crouching down on his haunches so we were eye level.

 

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked.

 

I could see something that must have been fury lurking in his eyes, but all he offered to me was sweetness and care. He was asking me earnestly, careful not to touch me, pointedly putting himself close but not too close to my person.

 

I nodded. “Yes. Please, stay.”

 

He nodded once, then got up. I was momentarily panicked that he was going to just leave me, despite my request, but then I saw him go into the kitchen. He made a cup of coffee, then came back over to me. He handed me the mug and I took it with shaking hands.

 

For a long while, we were silent. I sipped at the steaming coffee, not caring that it burned my tongue. Anything to keep my mind off recent events.

 

But I couldn’t force them out, not really. Flashes of those masked men, of their masks, of their awful laughs…I shuddered.

 

“Who…why did this happen?” I asked, because I had to say something, but felt like I couldn’t at the same time. “How could this happen?”

 

I wasn’t really asking him, but beside me, I felt Maxwell tense. His shoulders got tight and his arms bulged, the veins appearing along the meat of them in certain spots. He was furious, but I could tell it wasn’t with me.

 

“That shouldn’t have happened,” he got out between clenched teeth. “You shouldn’t have been involved.”

 

I frowned at his reply. Involved? What did he mean? Putting the mug down on the coffee table, I turned myself to the side so I was looking at him. I could see the muscles of his jaw twitch and watched as his cheeks reddened with anger. “What…?” I began, but wasn’t even sure what the right question was. Why are you so angry? seemed like an awful question to ask, because I’d like to think I would be angry, too, even if it hadn’t been me.

 

He didn’t look at me, couldn’t meet my eyes, but when I began to shake from the flashes and the emotion and the feeling that things just couldn’t be right after that, he gently put his arm around me. Without even thinking about it, I laid my head against his chest and began to cry. Again, he cooed sweet things to me and slid his hand carefully over my long hair, the rhythmic motion of it soothing.

 

I don’t know how long I sat there in his arms, wrapped up in him, taking in his comfort and warmth, but it could have been hours. By the time I was all cried out, I finally asked the question that I’d settled on: “Did you…did you get a look at…at them?” I winced as I asked, then added, “Do you know who they are?” It was a pointless question.

 

“Yes.”

 

I froze. What? I couldn’t believe he knew them! Was that even possible? What were the odds of something like that happening? The area wasn’t that small by any stretch.

 

“You…do?”

 

He nodded. He clenched his eyes shut momentarily, looking pained. When he opened them again, he found mine and held them. “I’m just grateful I got there in time.”

 

I could tell he meant it. With every fiber of his being, he meant that statement. It sent a slice of warmth through my shivering body and made me feel just a little better. It didn’t wash away the evil of the night, but it helped. He helped.

 

“Thank you,” I whispered, because I hadn’t thanked him yet and he’d done so much for me. He’d saved me, and it wasn’t the first time. “Thank you for everything.”

 

His hand found my cheek and he brushed the backs of his fingers lightly against it. Leaning close to my face, he answered quietly, “Don’t thank me. I don’t deserve it.” Then he pressed a light kiss to my forehead.

 

“Why would you say that?”

 

“Because what happened tonight is my fault.”