Fallen Raine {Completed}

Chapter Eighteen - You've Got The Wrong Idea, Buddy

   “I…” I breathed, having no idea what to say. My heart was pounding rapidly at this, and I was suddenly worried at being alone in here. Could anyone hear us if I screamed? I prayed yes.

   He put a hand over my lips. “Shh. You don’t have to say anything, Raine. I understand. And you know what, I’m okay with it. We’re trapped here, and who knows how much longer we’ll be alive? I can see why you might want a thrill before you die. Maybe with someone older and more mature and a little more… experienced.”

   I wanted to throw up at this. I felt sick and dizzy and nauseous and completely disbelieving. What was happening? What was he thinking? This was illegal! I was only seventeen; a minor. What was he really expecting? How had I given him this impression in the first place? Stupid Raine, stupid Raine!

   “This is wrong,” I whispered, my voice not even conveying my horror.

   “Well, then I don’t wanna be right.” The line was so cheesy and sickening. I wanted to spit in his face or claw at him or slap him or do something, but I was so frozen with fear that I couldn’t do anything but stand there like an idiot. Probably not a good indicator that I was uncomfortable.

   “Don’t worry, I’ll make everything better,” Steve said, his voice smooth and silky. It did nothing for me.

   “I think you’ve got the wrong idea, buddy,” I said, trying for lightness in the hope that he’d snap out of whatever crazed delusion he was in.

   “Oh, no, I’ve got everything right,” he said, shaking his head with an arrogant smirk. “You took me back here so you could be with me away from everyone else. The way you comforted me earlier, tried to make me feel better. You want me, don’t you?”

   He never let me reply, just grabbed my waist and pulled me closer to him, burying his face in my neck, breathing in deeply.

   Tears sprung to my eyes as I put my hands on his shoulder and roughly tried to shove him off. But he was stronger than I was, and took this the wrong way. He growled low in his throat and pushed me further into the bench, making my whole body scream in agony as sharp pangs travelled up my back.

   This was wrong. This man was old enough to be my father. He had a wife and a child! How could he be doing this? Why was this happening to me?

   He took me from the bench and spun me around, making me lose my footing and fall backwards, beginning to collapse to the ground. He wrapped a thick arm around my waist and pulled me back, gently putting me down on the ground and hovering over me.

   “No,” I whispered, then regained my voice. “No!” I yelled. “Help!”

   His thick, beefy hand clamped over my mouth, and his flesh muffled my screams. He tried to kiss me, and I turned away from him, cringing as his hot lips met my cheek. His stubble grazed my face, and I was hit with the overpowering smell of cheap cologne.

   His other hand came up and undid a button of my plaid shirt, and tears leaked out of my eyes. I felt like I was drowning in the tears. I sobbed underneath him, and his hands roamed all around, making me shake under him—and not in a good way. Definitely not in a good way. In a disgusted way.

   This was wrong. This was disgusting. Sickening. Horrible.

   “Don’t fight it,” Steve whispered. His lips brushed my ears, making tears come out of my eyes. God, this was one of the worst things I’d ever experienced. “It won’t hurt, I promise. You’ll like it.”

   “Steve, stop,” I whispered, in one last, hopeless, futile attempt.

   I sobbed out as he grabbed a button and undid it, exposing a bit of my white camisole, and I screamed into his hand, reaching up and trying to shove him off. There had to be something I could do. Surely I wasn't so helpless.