In her memory, the voice was Zach’s calling from the top of the stairs as she tromped down them, but she realized, after a moment, that someone was actually calling her name. Turning, still holding the laundry detergent against her hip and expecting to see her mother impatiently waiting at the end of the aisle, she instead found Brian, his eyes sweeping over her outfit as he stood there, grinning stupidly from ear to ear.
“What do you want?” Lindsey sighed, shifting the detergent to her other hip.
“I dunno.” Brian shrugged, still grinning that goofy grin. “I just saw you and thought… you might wanna meet at the treefort again?”
Lindsey looked at him for a moment, contemplating it. The memory of Zach and the phone call was fresh in her mind and she chewed her lip, seeing the way Brian’s eyes moved over her. “What time?”
“Say nine?” He looked at his watch. “I get out of here at eight.”
“Okay.” She turned and then glanced back. “Just you?”
“Do you want me to invite more?”
“Sure.” Lindsey kept going, calling over her shoulder. “The more the merrier.”
“All right!” He was already digging his cell phone out of his pocket.
Lindsey saw Mr. Finn again that evening while she was changing in the garden.
She flashed him a view from behind when she pulled her short shorts on, winking over the fence as she passed.
“Have a good night,” she called.
He shook his head. “You’re a bad girl.”
“I try!”
She’d expected the same guys as last time-the one she’d fucked again at the pool, Ralph, she remembered his name as she jumped over a log in the middle of the path-and maybe the little shy, blonde one, again, too. She doubted Brian had too many other friends he was willing to share with. She didn’t know then how she misjudged him.
It wasn’t dark when she reached the treefort-it wouldn’t be full dark for another hour-but the light was starting to fade under the canopy of the trees, and it was entirely too quiet for her liking. She expected talking, laughter, anticipatory howls even, a radio perhaps. She could only hear her own breath, fast and light, and the sound of the wind shifting the leaves overhead.
Maybe they hadn’t arrived yet. Maybe that was good. She had considered not coming at all, even though she’d said she would. Changing in the garden gave her a little thrill, but the walk didn’t have the usual, crotch-tingling anticipation. In fact, she felt decidedly uninterested in being there. More than that-she felt sad, and even a little guilty, especially when she thought about Zach.
She was thinking about going home and calling Zach, taking the long way, maybe stopping by 7-11 for a Slurpee, when the cloth slipped over her head from behind, enveloping her in darkness. She knew who it must be, what they were doing-
of course, not all of what they intended to do, not by a long shot-so her struggle was expected, but it was also in earnest. She wasn’t playing. She didn’t want to play this game anymore. Not that it mattered.
“Where’s her fucking tits?”
Lindsey shrieked when rough hands pulled her top down, squeezing her breasts hard. Someone was holding her from behind, arms locked around her elbows, and her panicked, heated panting pulled the dark cloth into her mouth again and again. Lindsey used the strength of whoever was holding her to lift herself, aiming her legs in front of her and pistoning them out, hard. She heard a satisfying “Oof!”
“Bitch!” a voice gasped and she shrieked when the backhand came out of nowhere-of course, she couldn’t see it coming. It was a hard hit, landing solidly against her temple, making her ears ring with the blow. She even saw stars for a moment and then her lip burst against her teeth like plump fruit, only fat with blood instead of juice, when they hit her again.
“She likes it, I’m telling you!” That was Brian’s voice-he was the one holding her. She struggled in his arms, twisting uselessly, tasting copper and swallowing her own blood.
“No!” Her hoarse voice pleaded with them. “Please!”
“That’s what she said last time,” Brian chuckled, hefting her arms, pulling her in tighter. “I’m telling you, she loves the rough shit.”
“Good.” The voice she didn’t recognize made Lindsey’s insides turn cold. “I’m gonna give her plenty of it.”
“Not like this,” Lindsey gasped as someone pulled the cloth or blindfold or whatever it was up over her mouth and tied it hard behind her head, leaving her bleeding lips free, but she was still unable to see.
“How are we gonna get her up there?” It was another voice Lindsey didn’t recognize, rougher than the first, like his throat was filled with gravel or grit.
“I don’t want her up there.” That was the smooth one-the one who’d backhanded her, she was sure. His voice was smooth and deadly, like a snake. “Hand me that rope.”
