“Scream, and you die,” a gruff voice told me. “Do you understand? Not even a fucking peep.”
I nodded, and the hand slipped off of my lips… only for someone else to shove a gag into my mouth, tying it around my head.
Purely out of fear, I started trying to smack or punch whoever my aggressors were. I saw a quick glance – there were two of them, both dressed like thugs. My hands were restrained, and a blindfold was tied around my eyes.
“Mmmf!” I exclaimed, but it was useless.
I was being dragged backwards through the alley, stumbling blindly along with them. They were leading me away from the street, forcing me to follow them into the dark…
Oh god, no, not like this, I sobbed in my head.
Suddenly, my palms were slapped against the brick wall, and my legs spread. A pair of vicious, hungry hands tugged at the bottom of my dress, whipping it up over my hips…
“Mmm, such an uptight little bitch,” one of the thugs chuckled. “Wonder if that pussy is this tight, too…”
“One way to find out,” the other commented directly into my ear. He was the one assaulting my dress, and I just waited for the sound of ripping fabric as I struggled to fight my way out of this.
This can’t be happening, I pleaded into my head. I should have just fucking gone back with him to the bar. Oh god, they dragged me back here, he won’t find me…
“Oh shit, this bitch is wearing a thong!” The aggressor holding me pinned chortled quietly. “Well, luck be a lady tonight…”
I felt my thong being ripped down my thighs, and I realized that I was totally, resoundingly fucked…
“Hey, who the fuck is–”
There was the sound of scuffling shoes, and a hard blow. The other thug went down, crumpling into some boxes. I felt the guy holding me down release his grip and take a step back.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He snarled. I ripped at the knot of my blindfold, desperate to free myself and see what was really happening.
Whatever was going on, it was a brawl. Fists flew, shoes scraped against the uneven pavement, and grunts of pain were exchanged.
I finally tugged the blindfold free, just in time to watch Lex Lambert dig his knee into the gut of my would-be rapist, dropping him to his knees and palms. Lex paused to check me, and I saw someone rise up behind him – the other asshole, by the looks of it.
With the gag in my mouth, I couldn’t shout at the danger or untie my own wrists, so I bobbed my head. Lex turned, just in time to take a walloping blow to the side of his cheek. He slipped, steadying himself against the wall, before bouncing free and headbutting the guy in the nose.
“Goddammit!” The thug screeched. “By dose!” Blood was gushing from his nose, which was unnaturally bent and partially flattened. “You broke by dose, you fucking biece of shit!”
“I’ll break more of you if you touch this fucking woman again,” Lex snarled, digging the heel of his boot into the guy’s balls.
Whimpering, he clutched himself and collapsed down to his knees. Lex lifted his foot and delivered another kick, this time straight to the side of the guy’s head.
“That’ll teach ya,” he muttered to himself.
He whirled back around and untied the restraints on my wrists. Finally, I managed to tug the gag from my lips, gasping in fear and breathlessness. “Holy shit,” I exclaimed. “Holy fucking shit, oh fuck, oh god…”
“It’s okay now,” Lex whispered, drawing me close. His toughened fingers held my cheeks, and he gazed deeply into my eyes. “I’m here now. They won’t hurt you. I’ve taken care of them…”
The one on the ground had risen up again, and loomed menacingly behind Lex. He was ready to end this, once and for all…
“Lex, wait!” I fearfully gasped, staring over his shoulder at the attacker.
He turned, but it was too late. Lex took another solid blow to the head that sent him clattering against the wall, where his head collided with a sick thud. My rescuer crumped to the pavement uselessly, knocked completely out cold.
In that instant, my fingers graced a glass bottle. Before the thug could turn his attention to me, I snatched it up, smashing it upside his head. He took a step back in surprise as I lunged forward with the broken glass, but his foot caught, and he slipped backwards, smashing into a dumpster.
He had just started to get up when I saw it. The gun they’d held on me sat at my feet. I swept it up into my hand, pointing it at the asshole and screaming for him to stay on the ground. Bending over, I shook Lex by his blazer, smacking his face with my free hand. He was out cold, but blood was pooling from his head.
Oh fuck. Oh god, no…
“HELP! “ I screamed at the top of my lungs, clutching desperately to any semblance of hope. “CAN ANYBODY PLEASE HELP ME?!”
Lex
Being a world-class football player meant that waking up in a hospital bed was not exactly a foreign experience to me. I’d taken my fair share of blows during the sport, on and off the field...
The first thing I noticed was that I was disoriented by the amount of space I had. The kind of treatment I was used to in England would have been cramped at best. Hospitals in London aren’t known for their open floorplans.
Here… I had space.
The room was fairly large by my standards, although the huge bed took up a substantial portion of it… but I had it all to myself.
A small television was mounted up on the opposing wall, and there was a wide window to my right, letting in some light to chirp up the place. To my left was a door, leading to either a closet or a bathroom – and beyond that, a larger door, naturally to exit the room.
That’s when I spotted the other human being in the room. Riley was fast asleep, curled up on some sort of padded storage bench beneath the window. As I shifted around in bed and found a way to raise the incline to my back, she stirred from her slumber.
“Oh! Lex! You’re… you’re awake,” Riley murmured, stifling her surprising burst of enthusiasm with a yawn. “How are you feeling?”
“My head’s a little off, but besides that, I’m chipper as ever,” I groggily answered, scratching my chest. I felt round things attached to my skin, connected to wires – so, the doctors had given me electrodes.
“You won’t want to mess with those,” Riley warned, her eyes drifting down to my scratching fingertips. “They were rather adamant about that.”
“They being who, exactly?”
“The doctors,” Riley told me.
“Right. Speaking of, what am I doing in a hospital, precisely?”
Riley looked saddened. “You… took a few blows to the head, and you were knocked out.” Her eyes glanced down to her lap, where she wrung her hands together while adding: “There was a lot of bleeding.”
“For a head wound? Not surprising at all,” I commented, feeling for the lightly throbbing gash on my scalp. My fingertips grazed it – not too bad, all things considered. “I’ve taken a few before. They always look far worse than they actually are. Lots of blood with those buggers. Scares the Devil right out of you.”
“Well… we’d better wait to see what the doctor says, anyway.”
I nodded absentmindedly, considering those words. “Where is the doctor, anyway?”
“He’s supposed to be making his rounds in thirty minutes,” Riley responded, rising from the bench, “but I’ll go check with the nurse’s station anyway. You’ve been out for a while, so we didn’t know when you might come back.”
“How long’s a while?”
“A day and a half.”
I grimaced. “Oh boy.”
Riley stepped out, and I reached over, digging around the items scattered across the end table for my phone. I didn’t see it, which concerned me – particularly since I knew that Jess was going to be pissed.
I spotted my blazer, hanging with my pants on a nearby wall. Shrugging off the blankets, I was able to barely reach it with my electrodes in place, and fished around in my blazer pocket.
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There you are…
I slunk back into bed and began to text Jess. My eyes fell upon the logo for the hospital, which had the words “Saint Peter’s General Hospital” emblazoned around the edges, and notified her where I was, and that I was fine.
I hit send and slipped the phone back onto the end table before Riley popped back into the room.
“Doctor Wright will be with you shortly.”
Shortly apparently meant later than originally told, because it was almost forty-five minutes before he finally appeared. A comforting man in his mid-thirties, Doctor Wright apologized for the delay and began to examine me during some small talk.
I kept my answers brief, and my tone even.
“Everything seems normal,” he commented finally, wrapping up his investigation. “Looks like you lucked out. Minor concussion, and you’ve got that gash there, but I don’t see why it won’t heal up nicely. You don’t even need stitches for it. I’m going to go ahead and clear you for release. Shall I go ahead and file for the paperwork?”
“Please do so,” I agreed.
He left us to our devices, and I turned to Riley. “How long have you been here?”
“Since you saved me.”