His open palm meets my face with a loud, jarring crack that sends me flopping sideways to the mattress. It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t a fist. My ears still ring with the force of it, the left side of my face a sweltering mess of sting and ache. From the sudden sluggishness of my brain, I’m guessing he didn’t even bother holding back.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been slapped like that. Not just out of anger, but out of a burning, white-hot hatred. I used to know how to brace myself for it, but it’s been years since my father’s looked down at me with that glint of violence in his eyes.
Now, I blink against the stars, only idly registering the scuffle happening nearby. There’s a grunt, and then the sound of bone on bone. Punching.
“You motherfucker!” Creep is snarling. “What did I fucking tell you the plan was? No one touches her!”
Lurker bites back, “She had it coming!”
Beyond the sounds of their quiet brawl, Maniac, still on the bed, is already wrestling me back down into the mattress. “Enough of this bullshit,” he huffs, reaching for my shirt. He yanks it over my breasts before tearing it over my head, and now that I can see him, I realize he’s dressed just like the others. Masked. Obscured. But his two narrowed eyes are visible, and they’re feral, bloodshot, piercingly green. He’s not as physically imposing as Creep, but the energy rolling off of him is electric, accentuating the compact muscles I see shifting beneath his long-sleeved black Henley.
He pants out, “Let’s get this over with, huh?” and pulls at my shorts.
I’m still reeling from the slap, and it sounds like the other intruders are still fighting about it. That makes it easy to slide my hand beneath my pillow as I squirm ineffectually away. “Wait,” I slur out, tasting blood in my mouth as I attempt to buy some time. I feel their rage building around me like a toxic cloud. The anger. They could be drunk, or even high. There’s a frenetic buzz in the room that’s never good.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Maniac breathes, manic eyes fixed to my breasts. “You’ve got some nice tits here, cyanine. You and I can make this quick. We’d move good together, I bet. You shouldn’t worry so much.” I can practically hear the demented grin he’s wearing under that mask, so it’s no surprise when he reaches for his fly, popping the button.
My eyes slowly come into focus, seeing the other two grappling further into the room. They’re so distracted that I doubt they even realize this one’s shoving his black jeans down his hips.
They’re also too distracted to see me take my chance—maybe my only chance. Pulling my hand from beneath the pillow, I strike out fast, slashing the shard of glass I have clutched in my hand across his lower belly.
They didn’t get everything when they cleared out the room.
He makes a startled noise and hurls himself away, yelping, “Son of a fucking cunt! She cut me!” Even though there’s outrage in the words, he sounds strangely delighted about it. “Holy shit, cadmium red like a motherfucker. Nice work, Lucia.”
This gets the others’ attention. They turn just in time to see the blood bubbling out from between Maniac’s fingers.
“Shit,” Lurker mutters, but Creep is suddenly storming toward us.
“What the fuck?” he spits, bearing down on Maniac as I scramble up the bed. “I told you before! She’s mine!”
Lurker gestures to the gash. “Are you happy now? This is going to need stitches.”
The slice I cut into him stretches from his navel to his hip. Blood oozes from it, but unfortunately it’s not deep. When he looks up, he just lets out a quiet, sinister laugh. “Oh, I’ve had worse. But tit for tat, girl. You leave a mark on me, and I’m going to leave one back. Look! You bisected one of my favorite pieces.” He must be talking about the tattoo spanning his lower belly. I can’t make out much more than the dark edges of it.
“No,” Creep says, shoving him away. “I found her. I came up with the plan, and I got you in here. She’s mine.”
Lurker growls, “We’re running out of time.”
Creep mutters, “Fuck this.” He fishes a phone from his pocket, thrusting it at Lurker. Then, he turns his blue eyes to me. “I’m not here to hurt you. You can make this difficult, or you can make it easy, but it’s not going to change a goddamn thing.”
I’m still clutching the bloody shard in my fist, the throb in my cheek igniting fury in my veins. “If you want your dick cut off,” I say, giving him a bloody smile, “then go ahead and try me.”