“I’m bleeding, Jess.” My hands burned as I gingerly brushed away the tiny rocks from my bloodied hands and knees.
“It’s a few scrapes, Livy. Get your ass up before I kick you while you’re down. Because I guarantee … men like Stefan Hoover will kick you when you’re down. Then they will rape you in any hole they can fit their dick into. They’ll leave you ripped, raw, and drowning in their cum … then they’ll kick you some more.”
Stunned.
There was no other way to describe it. I didn’t recognize the woman hovering over me. I was taller than Jessica. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to stand up because her confidence towered me by miles.
“Three … two …” She counted down.
My gaze homed in on her black combat boots that inched closer to me—two dogs ready to lurch toward me.
Something inside of me stirred to life just enough to send me scrambling to my feet.
“I don’t want to do this …” I shook my head as tears filled my eyes and fear pulsated from my lungs to the pit of my stomach.
“Do what, Livy? Be abducted? Sodomized? Left for dead?”
“Jess …” I shuffled backward several steps.
“Then what are you going to do about it? Run? If you don’t seriously wound me first, I will chase you down like the fucking animal I am. And I will make you pay.”
I shrieked when she grabbed my shirt and shoved me back down to the ground.
“Fight, Livy.”
I tried to crawl away, acid building in the back of my throat and the rotten stench of the ground just inches from my face feeding my need to vomit.
She kicked my leg. Hard. I clasped it and pulled it to my chest.
“If I would have aimed for your ribs, I would have broken them.”
“Stop!” I barked with more force.
“Stop means go to sick fucks like Stefan Hoover. Try again, Livy.” She struck my backside when I rolled into fetal position.
“Ouch! Please … stop!” Tears breached my eyes and ran hot down my cheeks.
“No please. No stop. GET. UP. LIVY!” she thundered like a drill sergeant.
I scrambled to my feet again, hobbling because my right glute and left thigh throbbed along with all the scrapes and bruises from being knocked to the ground twice.
“Jess …”
She shook her head. “Not Jess. Stefan.” Her hand shot forward, and she fisted my shirt and ripped the neck. “Show me your tits, Livy. I want to fuck them.”
Who. Was. She?
Her hand dove to my crotch, cupping me with an iron grip. I felt so broken, fearful, and violated by the one person I loved the most, second only to my dad.
“Do you have a tight cunt? I bet you do.”
Her hand shifted to my inner thigh where she dug her fingers into my flesh until I saw stars. “Spread them for me, Livy.”
I clawed at her hand.
She shoved me down again and tried to straddle me like Stefan did. And … something snapped. I saw him. The ugly, inhuman face that tried to take everything that wasn’t his.
“GET OFF ME!” I kicked and scratched at her. All of her.
Her face.
Her hair.
Her torso.
My body flailed and wriggled as my hands and feet fought back with more strength and desperation—no longer caring if they landed somewhere on her that could cause injury.
And I did. My foot collided with her face, splitting her lower lip.
I stopped.
She stopped, her tongue darting out to swipe the blood.
“Oh my god! Jess … I’m—”
“Ready.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
I blinked more tears, pushing myself to sitting then hugging my knees to my chest.
She kneeled in front of me and removed my headgear. After tossing it to the side, she pulled me into an embrace, stroking my hair. “You’re ready to never be a victim again. I just needed to bring out your will to live. I will bend you so no man can ever break you. Then I will shape you into something stronger than you ever imagined.”Chapter TwelveJessica told me the details of her past were still on a need-to-know basis, but she shared some details of the time she was raped. She trained under some elite people and learned to defend and kill if necessary.
I asked her if she’d ever had to kill anyone. She rolled her eyes as if the question was ridiculous and said, “What do you think?”
“You can’t role-play true fear.” She put in her mouth guard as I slipped in mine.
We were a month into my training. She hooked me up with a coach and came down once a week to one-on-one spar with me and evaluate my progress.
I’d made her bleed three times; she drew blood from me too many times to count. She said I needed to crave the blood, welcome the pain, and harness the fear. After four weeks, I did none of those things.