Masked (Royally Hot 2) - Page 23

And I knew I had to get away from them. I turned and looked about me, then chose the only option that seemed open to me.

I scrambled up the main post of the milking shed, while the intruders stood around laughing, not even trying to stop me. And why would they? Where was I going to go from there? I scampered up and over, so that I was above them on a horizontal beam, clinging to it with both arms and pinching it with my knees, but even I could see that it was a desperate plan. Eventually, I would have to come down, and when I did they’d have their way with me.

Below me, I watched the last vestige of life drain out of my father’s eyes. I felt so helpless, so terrified, and so far away from him. For all the terror he had caused me, I had always tried to treat him with kindness. I had always tried to smother his rage with love, because despite it all I had loved him. But now, in his dying moments, I could do nothing to comfort him.

It was too much to take in.

I was so shocked, so overwhelmed, that I just stared at him in mute terror. But slowly the hot tears found their way to my eyes and clouded my vision. The intruders became blurry through them. I had to hang on. I just had to. All I had to do, I told myself, was hang on until someone came to help.

Until Randal arrived to start his work.

But that could be hours. Or not at all…

The men, whoever they were, were there to take what they wanted of me and dispose of the rest. It was only a matter of time before I joined my father in bleeding to death on the milk shed floor, I knew it with such certainty that it made me sob.

I watched them prowl below. Circling. They made no movements to follow me up into the rafters; I could tell they were very much enjoying the spectacle. One of them used the tip of his sword to slit my skirt up the length of my thigh, while the other two whooped in delight at the flash of skin. The wood grain dug into my flesh as I gripped the beam so tightly that it made my legs burn.

“I’ll give you anything you want. But please...” I begged them. “Please don’t kill me.”

They chuckled, like I’d made a joke.

“Oh, we’ll kill you alright,” said the biggest man. “But I fucking promise to make it nice and slow.”

This could not be happening. Why were they here? Who was I other than the nobody daughter of a nobody farmer?

Nellie was getting increasingly worked up as they circled. As many animals do when they’re nervous, she took the opportunity to relieve herself, and before she was even done, one of them had grabbed a stinking pile of her hot dung and threw it right at my face. I avoided a direct hit, but it grazed my shoulder and neck as they roared with laughter as one after another handful of cow dung splattered against the beam and my body. The more of it they threw, the more difficult it was for me to hang on tight.

Once they’d finished with the dung, they moved on to whatever else they could find—tools, buckets, and finally the full bottles of cider my father had found. The first hit my chest, the second hit my hip, both of them causing a shooting and horrible pain. But before I could even cry out, I saw a third one, heading directly for my head.

I shut my eyes and tried to turn away, but it connected with my left ear, making me feel as though my brain was sloshing around inside my skull. A shrieking, disorienting pain made me cry out, but I refused to let the tears come.

Instinctively, I pressed my palm to my head; as I did, I began to lose my grip and slip off the beam. I clung on with one arm, knowing that I would surely be killed if I fell and landed on the hard floor of the milking shed. As I blinked away the horrible pain in my ear, I realized that death by falling might be much less painful than whatever these men had in store.

In the haze of vision, I saw a shadow darken the doorway, followed by the sound of two heavy steps and a gurgle. Below me, I saw one of the men slump to the floor with a slash that ran clean across his throat.

My heart fluttered, despite everything. I wondered if I was dreaming, if perhaps I’d already fallen and was lying in a daze, broken and dying on the floor of the shed.

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