Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
“I get it. It’s too much for me, too,” a deep voice says beside me.
I turn and come face to face with a handsome guy with sandy hair, dark eyes, and a soft smile. He’s wearing glasses, a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and dark denim jeans.
“I don’t do people well,” I say, staring into my drink.
He smiles. “Maybe we not do people well together?”
I shrug. “If you want.”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re the prettiest girl in the room.”
His words shock me. No one in my entire life has ever said I was pretty, let alone the prettiest girl in a room.
“So, which sorority are you rushing?” he asks.
“None. It’s not for me.”
“Too bad. I thought I’d see you at more parties. Guess I’ll have to impress the shit out of you so you’ll agree to dinner with me.”
My fingers play with a loose strand of my hair, a nervous habit. I’m so pathetic I don’t know what to say. The only guy I’ve ever dated disappeared as soon as we had sex, so my score card when it comes to the opposite sex is pretty pathetic.
“My name is Bryce, by the way. Hey, I need another drink. Whatcha having?”
“My name is Stella, and I’m good, Bryce, thank you.”
“Stella. Such a beautiful name. But I would be a horrible gentleman if I got myself something and not you. My mother would be disappointed. You don’t want me to bring disgrace to my mother, do you?’
“I’ll have a coke. A virgin, please.”
“You got it.”
AXEL
What’s she doing talking to that guy? I should go up there and beat the shit out of him, but the guys and I agreed we wouldn’t mess with her life, at least not to where she’d notice. But if the fucker lays a hand on her, I’ll make him bleed.
So I sit back and watch like a motherfuckin’ hawk.
They’ve been talking for over an hour. What the fuck does she have to talk to that dweeb about? He looks like he walked out of a gap commercial. I hate preppy guys. They’re usually the biggest dicks. They look all prim and proper, so people give them a pass. He’s the fucker who gets away with shit, but society says, “Oh, he didn’t know better. Give him another chance.” I don’t give chances, especially when it comes to her.
They’re getting up. The fucker’s hand is on her back. I’m going to break that hand and every other fuckin’ bone in his body. Crush them under my foot.
I jump up and follow them out the door to his BMW. She’s not walking straight. He’s holding her up. What the fuck is she doing getting in the car with that guy? And I thought she didn’t drink? Why can’t she walk?
Motherfucker!
He’s got her pressed up against the car. He doesn’t see me rush toward him until my fist connects with the side of his face.
“What the—”
I don’t let him finish his sentence. I pound him in the face until blood pools on the ground. “You like drugging girls? Raping them?”
“It’s not rape. She wants it!” he yells.
“Shut up, asshole.” I rip off my belt and tie his hands behind his head. My eyes search the area, looking for something I can use as a gag. I move down his body, taking off one shoe and removing his sock. This should do it.
I move back up his body, forcing his mouth open by plugging up his nose and jamming the dirty sock in his mouth. I don't need him screaming in a dark parking lot. Not that anyone would notice. The place where he parked is secluded, away from everyone. Fucker knew what he was doing. He’s obviously done this before.
A bottle of bud light rolls on the ground by his feet. I reach for it, showing it to the fucker. His eyes go wide as I hold it by the neck and smash the bottom.
I unzip his pants and turn him around roughly. “I’m gonna show you what it’s like when someone wants it.”
He screams as I ram the bottle in his ass. Blood flows and spurts. I’m not gentle. I fuck him over and over and over with the bottle. You want to rape a woman, motherfucker? I’m gonna show you what rape feels like. I fuck him over and over. Pieces of glass from the bottle are lodged up his ass. Tears stream down his pathetic face.
“Don’t cry. I’ll only make it hurt more. You didn’t give a shit about her choice, so I don’t give a shit about yours.”
Normally I’d put a bullet in his brain and be done with it, but this motherfucker needs a lesson. I pull the bottle out and smile at him before dragging it along his jugular and watching him bleed out. “Go to hell, motherfucker.”