Your Mark on Me

Chapter 8: To the Rescue

Engrossed in what he was doing, the guy hadn't noticed I was awake. He was leaning above my legs; as I snapped up, my knee hit him in the face. He gave a surprised cry and covered his nose with his hand, trying to stop the nosebleed. I jumped off the bed, grabbing my purse lying on the bed next to me, and rushed to the door. My legs were still shaky, so I tripped, my feet tangled in the underwear that I hadn't had the presence of mind to pull back on. My forehead hit the hardwood headboard of the bed. The pain dazzled me. The room started spinning again. I cried for help, but couldn't tell whether my voice was loud enough for anyone else to hear it, or whether I was just opening my mouth without letting out any sound.

Just like anyone else, I'd had that sort of nightmare before, except now it was real.

I removed the panties hanging around my ankles and tried to get up, my head still spinning. Taking advantage of my weakness, he came behind me, one arm pinning me against him, the other wrapped around my shoulder, his hand over my mouth. I wrestled and elbowed him in the ribs repeatedly until he let go. He had a strong, athletic body, but he was also very drunk, so his movements were slow.

He staggered after me, when I started towards the door a second time. He grabbed my arm and yanked me back. I dropped my purse. Its content scattered on the floor, but I didn't care about it anymore; all I wanted was to get away. He pulled me towards him and then, in the dim light coming from outside, I was able to make out his features.

It was Brian.

He probably started to understand what he had done, because he looked scared; he was acting frantically, out of panic. The fact that I could put a face on him now, and moreover, the recalling of my finding him slightly attractive earlier, shocked me and angered me even more. When he tried to cover my mouth again, I lifted my knee and kicked him hard in the groin. His body recoiled, flooded by the sudden pain. As he crouched down, I snatched my phone lying on the floor, twisted the door knob and ran outside.

The hard light in the corridor hurt my eyes. I rushed towards the stairs, my whole body still pumped up with adrenaline, scared he might follow. Through the ajar door of the room at the end of the corridor, opposite the staircase, I thought I could hear Chloe's voice. I pushed the door open only to see George's buttocks as he lay on top of Chloe. Taken aback, I slammed it closed and ran down the stairs.

In the living room, people were sleeping on the sofa and wherever they could find a place. I jumped over a couple of the bodies lying on the floor, opened the main door and ran outside.

The street was completely empty, and dark. The chilly air made my skin crawl, but it was refreshing my senses as I scurried down the street a few blocks away from George's house. There I sat down on the pavement on someone's drive, hidden from view by some trash cans.

I was trembling and breathing heavily, my heart still pounding like a hammer. Placing a hand on my chest, I tried to calm down and focus on what to do next. It was hard when my brain was still a hazy mess.

I was supposed to get a lift back with Chloe and George, but obviously that was not possible. I thought to phone a taxi, only to realize I didn't have my purse, which meant I had no money. And I was absolutely not going back to George's house — the thought of seeing Brian again terrified me.

Thankfully, I still had my phone.

My first thought was, of course, to call Mom. But she was hours away, and that wasn't even the biggest issue. I hadn't told her about the party. If she found out I went without asking for permission, her trust in me would be forever shattered.

Then there was Mrs Jackson. I could ask her to pick me up, or take a taxi to her place and get her to pay. But she would tell Mom, no matter how hard I begged her not to.