The thorns and twigs on the grass scratched against my creamy skin as he shoved me down into the mud. I was bewildered. His rugged breath was heavy as he leant over me, forcing the side of my face flat against the floor with his left hand while the right worked on undoing the buttons on my shorts. I continued screaming and calling out, tears streaming down my cheeks as I lost control to him.“Look bitch, shut the fuck up unless you want a knife up your cunt,” he hissed brutally. I whimpered, quietening at once. My head was pounding and the blood roared in my ears. Surely he didn’t mean that.“Please stop,” I begged him while I desperately clawed at his arms. I kicked and struggled beneath him as he lifted his hand from my head; he curled his fingers into a fist again and smashed his knuckles down square in my face with a sick thud. My scream wavered as the night suddenly flashed blotchy shades of violet and magenta. I let my head roll to the side as warm blood dribbled from my mouth. "I helped them up, and we trotted along the meandering stream until it all but disappeared. A pasture opened before us, and I made them wait while I investigated. In the distance I could see a small house and a dilapidated barn, its roof caved in. The field was waist high with grass and weeds so I assumed the farm was abandoned.We walked around the periphery of the grassland so as not to leave an easily followed trail, and I had them wait again in the treeline while I walked up the the small, clapboard house. It was, as I had guessed, long empty, full of cobwebs and debris. I waved them to come along, and we found a broken table and crude bench and sat. The older woman introduced herself as Mrs. Preston. "Clare Preston," she said. "My husband's a captain, artillery. This is my niece Clarissa."I nodded and smiled at them, keeping an eye on the broken window that showed the distant trees where the stream ended."Why did they stop us?" Mrs. Preston asked. She was a handsome woman, bright.
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