N.B. This story, in no aspects, is meant to correspond to anything or anyone. Those who have experienced this in their lives, I sincerely feel for you. This story is entirely fictional and does not mirror my life. Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter one

Something was dripping down her cheeks.

Warm. Wet. It took the girl a while to realise that they were tears.

"Scream, 'oney, it only 'eightens the experience."

The voice was gruff and clearly in ecstasy. The chuckling that followed was victorious and abrupt. He placed both hands by her head and a knee on her leg to refrain her from escaping. Her heart thumped. Once. Twice. Thrice. That and his breath was all that she could hear. It was ironic that the man had a minty fresh breath; unlike those from stereotypical stories where the assailant sported onion or garlic breaths, or worse, both. The man had a head of dark brown curls, a strong jaw and a straight nose that fitted his angular face well for him to be described as handsome. All seemed so weird if one had seen the wonderful weather; much celebrated and enjoyed after days of rain and darkness. One would never expect something so terrible to be happening in the small alleyway halfway up a hill.

"Scream." He ordered once more.

But the girl knew that even if she had screamed, the man would do naught but quicken his actions. Nor would anyone help her, as they were all at work, or at school, as most thirteen year old students would be. His fingers tugged on the hem of her black shirt and pulled it higher and higher and higher, exposing her flat pale stomach to the cooling wind that seemed to lavish it. She could feel the fear bubbling inside her now, slowly, slowly, and she knew that it was inevitable that she be raped. The man was a lot stronger than her and he obviously yearned for her.

His smooth hand rubbed her stomach as his mouth stretched into a gleeful grin. Something filled her mouth. Copper tasting. Trickling slowly. She released her bottom lip from her teeth and slowly waited for the wound to heal. Shock kept a vice grip on her body and refrained her from trying moving as the predator feasted on his prey.

"Wonderful... Wonderful..." he muttered, all the while staring at her body as a starving lion would his meat.

No... No...

"Help..." she mumbled, voice so thick with grief and fear that she, herself could not fathom whose voice it was.

"That's it, sweetie, scream for 'elp."

He was elated that she would start to mutter for help. The actions were quicker, and he was now trying to unbuckle her jeans.

No... No... No

The sound of the unbuckled jeans reverberated in her ears, sounding almost louder than an atomic bomb in her crazed mind.

No... No... No...

"Help..." she repeated.

This time she knew that no one was going to help her. Nor was she going to escape if she didn't do anything to try. Even as all seemed to be against her, it seemed that she had opened the flimsy lock on Pandora's box and the little flicker of hope inside was now attempting to help her in the name of adrenaline. For a second, the fear seemed to loosen its grip on her, lending her strength as her left leg flew up on its own accord and connected with a stroke of luck to his knee. There was a brief cry of shock from the man above and his right hand moved away from the side of her face that barricaded her.

That was all that was needed.

She rolled to her right, away from him and scrambled away on all fours like a deer running from a hungry lion.

"Stop! STOP!" He yelled, anger apparent in his voice.

She turned back to see his progress. Wrong move. He slammed her against the wall and held her by her neck, squeezing and squeezing. His dark eyes were shining with malice and seemed so determined to kill her. Claw-like nails dug into the thin skin of her neck. Her pulse heightened. Ears buzzed and pounded loudly like a bass drum or a bass guitar in a heavy metal song. It hurt. Her own fingers clawed at his hands, leaving behind long, red rivers of scratches that soon filled up crimson blood.


Her eyesight dimmed. It seemed like all that she could see now sported a black border that dripped like copious paint to taint the entire picture. So this was what it felt like to die? This was much unlike what she had anticipated death was. Like all people her age, she had thought she'd live forever. Or at least, die due to old ears rang loudly with a long high-pitched beep. That was all that she could hear now. She felt like she was in a vacuum. Underwater.

Her eyes widened.

There was suddenly a sharp, hot pain that started to slowly creep up over the haziness of the lack of oxygen. With a jerky motion, she edged her head down towards where the pain was centered. The hand on her neck loosened slightly with the motion and her head hung on the man's hand like a hat on a display rack. All she could see was red. Red, like her blood. A jagged white line that soon was dyed in a rich red that overflowed from its crevice was seen. The knife ran the length of her forearm, only stopping at her elbow. It looked like one of those jagged lines that indicated a river or lake on a map. But she had never been good at Geography. And she certainly never thought of getting a laceration like a river on her arm. The man chuckled gleefully, sounding elated at the sight of her suffering, her blood, the pain and fear that she exuded in thick waves.


This was not how it was going to end. She would not allow it, she told herself. Her hands reached up and clawed at anything that it could find, her dimming eyesight not aiding it in its search for destruction. She was desperate even more so now since her arm was hurt.

It met with something soft. And solid. Almost gooey feeling and slightly wet. Nothing to do about it. Fear ran its course through her blood and fueled her. That was what she could find and she would take the chance. A long claw downwards and a loud, loud scream, and the hand that clutched her neck was released and oxygen now barraged its way into the girl's starving body. Like a victorious war, oxygen raced through her body. It tasted like the sweetest nectar of a flower. She had never loved life more.

"AHH! 'ELP! 'ELP!" The man shrieked.

She leant against the wall, holding her neck tenderly while the other was on her chest. Her legs wobbled with exhaustion and she felt liked dropping to the ground right then and sleeping.

"'ELP, 'ELP, 'ELP! I CAN'T SEE!" He yelled.

Soon the black dots disappeared one by one, winking in the lights like stars do. Her mind started to reboot itself and her thoughts started to return. Her heart thumped softer now, more like the bass in an orchestral symphony. Soft. Soothing. Reassuring her that she was alive.


Now she looked over at the rapist. He was clutching his left eye and something was flowing steadily down his cupped palm. Red and white. Red and white. Blood and something that she vaguely remembered her science teacher saying was called vitreous gel. The hand was removed and the girl could finally see the damage that she had done.

It was horrific. The entire eyelid had sunken in to form the shape of the eye socket, plain for the world to see. It looked flat. Like a thin sheet that barely concealed what was behind the eye. Red and white had formed little lakes that were dripping down his cheeks.

She had clawed out his eye.

"I'LL KILL YOU! KILL!" He was screaming.

Dribble was flowing copiously out of his open mouth. In between shouts and prayers to God, he was hurling insults at her. Threats. He sank to the ground after a few heavy sways. His hand still clutched his eye in a tender hold. Shouts sounded amplified to her. But it wasn't what she was thinking about at the moment. The dagger that was lying on the ground gleamed under the ardent gaze of the sun.

Now or never.

Sinking to the ground, she picked it up and ran to the man. Caught in the embrace of shock, the man failed to react to her sudden move as she sank the dagger into his eye, eliciting another loud scream of words that sounded like nonsense. His hand now clawed at the knife, hesitating between pulling it out or leaving it in there. Both seemed like a direct path to death.

Now or never.

Before conscience sank in to her, she ran. Bolted up the road and towards nothing.

I killed him. I killed him. I killed him.

It served as a broken mantra as she pelted. Everything seemed to be whispering it to her; the trees rustling in the wind; the hollow steps that she was taking. All. Blamed. Her.

She stopped at a door. Unremarkable, the door was. Red with a few splinters and a bell that hung to the right of it. RING ME. It read in a caption under the bell. And she did so.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

The adrenaline was leaving her slowly. One by one, it was like an army set on retreat after a war. She was now acutely aware of the laceration on her arm, and the blood that was flowing steadily down it. She was now aware of her crime. She had killed him. Killed him. She had killed someone.

The pain in her arm overpowered the thought of death, thoughts of jails. She could not even hear as the door opened and an old lady that smelt of cookies opened the door. Not hear or feel when she dropped to the floor and the woman screamed.

Yet another scream. This time high-pitched as compared to the hysterical ones from the rapist before. And then she fell into blackness and slumber.