Dirty Gold [LT Fanfiction]

Chapter 4

I open my eyes, and looked around. I was in a wooded area behind a street. My clothes are soaking wet, but that’s not my main focus. I run my eyes along my surroundings for Mynce until I find her sprawled along the muddy grass a good distance from me. I crawl over to her wincing in pain—my finger nails collecting mud and my clothes getting dirty.

I put 2 fingers on her neck, to see if she has a pulse, and she does.

Weakly.

What did they do her?
What did they do me?

What did they do to us?

I look in my cross body bag and pull out my phone. I had missed calls from Larry and Laurent. I called Larry.

I dialed his number with wet fingers, messing up.

“Where you been!? I've been calling you!”
“Larry, I’ve been fucking raped!” I say through tears.
“What? Slow down!”
“I’ve been raped!” I say.

The phone was dead silent.

“Where are you!?” He yelled into the phone, blowing my ear off.

I let him know where I was. The effects of the medicine was still on me. I told him I had Mynce with me, then I proceeded to drag her as close to home. I got to a bus stop and leaned against it weakly. There wasn’t even a car or anyone in sight.

I seen a black car roll up this way, and I knew it was the twins. I tried to call for them as loud as I could, but the pain and tiredness I was feeling wouldn't let my voice escape. I saw the twins ride back and forth until they finally noticed us at the bus stop.

“Rayne?” They called for me. I didn’t answer.

I drifted out, then before I knew it, I was in the car. I drifted in and out of consciousness.

I fell asleep.

And I ended up waking up to Lau’s blootshot eyes.

Where was I?

Twins’ house, I could tell through blurred vision.

“Rayne?”
“Huh?” I slurred.
“Who is these niggas?”

I started to fall asleep again, but was shooken firecly. “Who is these niggas!?” He kept shaking me.

“Chill out,” Larry pulled him back. I hope I looked as shocked as I was because I was confused at how violent and he’s being. “I just wanna know who did this,” Lau tried to be calm.

I sat up on the couch and rubbed my eyes, trying to clear my tears.

“Jean, R, Whitney, and some other niggas…”
“Ty and Jeremy,” I heard Mynce’s light voice answer my question.

I looked past Laurent, and looked at Mynce.

She was “clean.”

All her makeup was gone, and you could see scratches and bruises on her face. For some odd reason, she looks better this way—with the scratches and bruises too.

“Where can I find them?” Larry asked, breaking my thoughts.
“I don’t know…”
“How don’t you know!? You worked with them!”
“You don’t know the half of it!”

The room froze in complete silence.

“What’s the half of it?” I ask her.
“I’ve spoken too much,” she says gathering her belongings in her pocket.
“No, tell me,” I tell her walking after to her and pulling her by her arm.