Status: Am still trying to write, but school is keeping me really busy
Hopeless Wanderer
Six
"Hey, Pete! Look what I found!" My eyes opened lazily to the sight of a shaggy brown haired boy. He probably wasn't even twenty yet, but he was admittedly cute. He looked like the kind of boy I would have crushed on in high school. I knew I hadn’t been asleep for very long. I blinked the fatigue from my eyes as I watched the boy. The sight of another human being out here in middle of nowhere stunned my poor mind. I stared at him, mouth agape, forgetting what I was supposed to do in this situation.
I slowly stood, my sleep deprived mind trying to remember what my body was supposed to do. My muscles cried out in protest. Another boy came into view, presumably Pete. He didn’t seem at all like the first. He exuded danger. His brown hair had been cut fairly short, and fairly recently as well. Really, though, it was the mischievous look in his eyes that scared me.
"Ian, how about you keep going. Try to find some food. I'll take care of her." Ian shrugged and walked off with light, careful footfalls. That must've been how he managed to not wake me. Pete came closer but I still hadn't managed to find my voice. He grabbed my bag and began rummaging through it. He threw empty food wrappers on the ground as he searched. I hadn't quite figured it the new etiquette and had been stashing my trash in the bag until I found a bin. I laughed a little, although humorlessly. I've barely been away from my bunker and was being robbed for the second time. Did anybody decent survive this mess?
"Unless you need a photo of my boyfriend, you're not going to find anything."
Apparently he didn't see the humor like I did. With a spark of rage in his ice blue eyes he stepped towards me, his presence pinning me against the very tree I’d fallen asleep against. His eyes pierced me, growing an unsettled feeling deep within my stomach. I glanced upward, towards the leaves of the trees fluttering above. I wanted to look anywhere besides those eyes.
He grabbed me to push me down onto my stomach before I could even think about running away. My knees collided achingly hard with the ground. Pete leveraged his weight onto his knees, which dug painfully into my hamstrings. He sat like that, still rummaging around my nearly empty pack, while my hands and arms grew heavy and numb under my own weight. He chuckled to himself when he freed my hands only to bind my wrists tightly behind my back. Whatever he used cut into my flesh, and if I tried to wriggle my wrists, a burning sensation told me to keep still. The edge of my knife left a trail of goosebumps as he lightly ran it down my arm.
"I think I found exactly what I need." I found myself facing the sky again. He leaned down to whisper in my ear, "I swear to whatever God there may be that if you even think about screaming, I will tie you to this tree and watch while those undead things you call upon us feast on you alive."
Fear paralyzed me at first, far too much to be able to scream. Once he had my pants off, fear turned into panic. I didn’t scream, afraid he was right about the undead. I wriggled my wrists, ignoring the painfully tight bonds, trying anything I could to get them loose. Pete met every writhing attempt to get away with misery. He began with backhanded slaps across the face. When that didn’t work, he began nipping my with the tip of the knife. When even that failed, he whispered the most horrible scenarios in my ear. This, though, only seemed to get him revved up. I bit my lip against the pain that exploded below as he rammed through me. His whispered suggestions shifted into nothing more than his quick breath and the occasional moan.
Time stood still. At least, it felt that way. I watched the leaves dance above, slightly dazed, as I tried to pretend to be anywhere but right here, right now. Then, he stilled. He sat me up long enough to loosen my wrists just enough that I would be able to get free. Then as violently as he’d entered my life, he silently slipped away among the trees.
I slowly stood, my sleep deprived mind trying to remember what my body was supposed to do. My muscles cried out in protest. Another boy came into view, presumably Pete. He didn’t seem at all like the first. He exuded danger. His brown hair had been cut fairly short, and fairly recently as well. Really, though, it was the mischievous look in his eyes that scared me.
"Ian, how about you keep going. Try to find some food. I'll take care of her." Ian shrugged and walked off with light, careful footfalls. That must've been how he managed to not wake me. Pete came closer but I still hadn't managed to find my voice. He grabbed my bag and began rummaging through it. He threw empty food wrappers on the ground as he searched. I hadn't quite figured it the new etiquette and had been stashing my trash in the bag until I found a bin. I laughed a little, although humorlessly. I've barely been away from my bunker and was being robbed for the second time. Did anybody decent survive this mess?
"Unless you need a photo of my boyfriend, you're not going to find anything."
Apparently he didn't see the humor like I did. With a spark of rage in his ice blue eyes he stepped towards me, his presence pinning me against the very tree I’d fallen asleep against. His eyes pierced me, growing an unsettled feeling deep within my stomach. I glanced upward, towards the leaves of the trees fluttering above. I wanted to look anywhere besides those eyes.
He grabbed me to push me down onto my stomach before I could even think about running away. My knees collided achingly hard with the ground. Pete leveraged his weight onto his knees, which dug painfully into my hamstrings. He sat like that, still rummaging around my nearly empty pack, while my hands and arms grew heavy and numb under my own weight. He chuckled to himself when he freed my hands only to bind my wrists tightly behind my back. Whatever he used cut into my flesh, and if I tried to wriggle my wrists, a burning sensation told me to keep still. The edge of my knife left a trail of goosebumps as he lightly ran it down my arm.
"I think I found exactly what I need." I found myself facing the sky again. He leaned down to whisper in my ear, "I swear to whatever God there may be that if you even think about screaming, I will tie you to this tree and watch while those undead things you call upon us feast on you alive."
Fear paralyzed me at first, far too much to be able to scream. Once he had my pants off, fear turned into panic. I didn’t scream, afraid he was right about the undead. I wriggled my wrists, ignoring the painfully tight bonds, trying anything I could to get them loose. Pete met every writhing attempt to get away with misery. He began with backhanded slaps across the face. When that didn’t work, he began nipping my with the tip of the knife. When even that failed, he whispered the most horrible scenarios in my ear. This, though, only seemed to get him revved up. I bit my lip against the pain that exploded below as he rammed through me. His whispered suggestions shifted into nothing more than his quick breath and the occasional moan.
Time stood still. At least, it felt that way. I watched the leaves dance above, slightly dazed, as I tried to pretend to be anywhere but right here, right now. Then, he stilled. He sat me up long enough to loosen my wrists just enough that I would be able to get free. Then as violently as he’d entered my life, he silently slipped away among the trees.