Vampocalypse (old first draft)

Chapter Eleven

Here it was: the snake's strike. He wrapped himself around my small, mousy frame as though he were a constrictor, and I knew his intentions. It seemed the worst was inevitable. Here I was, locked in, entirely alone with this jerk, with no way of escape.

The scent of his sour sweat assaulted my senses. Dusty's harsh hands roamed over me, squeezing, rubbing- I tried to wiggle from his grasp, but like any other pesky serpent, it only caused him to tighten. He squished my lips into my teeth with his own. He probably thought he was kissing me. It didn't even feel like a kiss; it felt like he'd fallen lip-first onto my face without warning.

I did my best to cry out my objection while keeping my mouth tightly sealed. No easy task. I tried shoving him as hard as I could. It was no use. I was so close to him that I couldn't lock my elbows straight to put any firm distance between us.

He put his hands on either side of my waist and tossed me across the room. My body landed on a soft surface. A couch? I didn't have time to check, because he was there fumbling with the button on my jeans and I had to focus on thwarting his efforts.

"Stop! Please, stop!" I screamed.

"Shut up already! You might as well enjoy it!" he yelled back.

"No!" I didn't even notice the tear that slid down my cheek until it touched my lips and I tasted it.

The button gave, and he started to jerk my jeans from my waist.

Then something happened. The fear faded as anger grew, taking it's place. I wasn't having this. I would not be a victim.

I had never in my life punched anyone before, but it had to be done. I balled up my fist and let it fly straight into Dusty's eye.

"Ow!" he shouted, holding his face. "Shit, that hurt."

He left me to search our sinister abode and finally stopped inside a doorway off to the side of the large kitchen I'd only just noticed.

"You bitch. It's already turning black!" He yelled.

I had a moment of satisfaction. The punch did exactly what I meant it to do: make him stop. I was lucky for that. The black eye was just a bonus feature. I buttoned my jeans and grabbed the first thing I could find to hit him with if he tried again. It was a fern in a small, thick, brown clay pot. That plant was my lifeline at that moment.

Awful noises erupted from the room Dusty was in, and when things began to fly out and into the wall, I knew he was throwing an uber hissy fit. Things broke, cracked, shampoo exploded and splashed on the wall and floor. I just stood there with my fern.

Finally the fit was over and everything was still. Dusty came out of the bathroom.

"You better get used to this arrangement fast, because Im not going to let you get away with this again," he demanded, pointing at the purpling ring around his eye. "I can't even look at you right now."

He retreated to some other room. I was relieved, but still waited at least ten minutes before calming enough to set the fern down, then planted myself on the couch, head in hands.

All was quiet, save for the low snore that floated through the living quarters. With Dusty sleeping, now was my chance to inspect my new surroundings.

The kitchen was fully stocked and was easily the largest room. It even had a stove in it, something we didn't have in the firsty bleeder living quarters. The top was smooth, the buttons below to set the temperature of the top, exactly like those in the main kitchen in my old compound. I had no idea how to use it.

The bathroom was a mess with conditioner spilled on the floor and the toothpaste floating in the toilet, but otherwise it looked the same as my old one. I did not clean it. I had no intentions of using the room. No way was I going to risk being naked in the same house with Dusty, not for any reason. It didn't even matter how long I would be there, my mind was set.