1.
The night air was cool. Like the screech of tires on asphalt, a shrill scream could be heard above the falling rain. Somewhere, skin and bone hit gravel with a crunch.
Mike Newton had woken up late on that Sunday morning. He'd been late getting to work at his family's business. When he was faced with the choice of walking home in the downpour or accepting a ride home from a couple of guys from school, the choice had seemed obvious. Mike had never spent much time with Brent, a tall, dark haired jock who was arrogant and smooth, or Harvey, a loud, obnoxious boy known for his crude remarks; he was extremely straightedge, but just didn't know it. With them was Keith, a dirty, rough-looking guy who wouldn't normally have been hanging out with the other two, at least not to Mike's mind; Keith had a questionable image, unlike Brent and Harvey. They were well-liked in Forks, and though Mike had heard many dark stories, their otherwise good reputation caused him to get in the car.
He was so caught up in conversation with Brent, whose supposed charm turned out to be very real, that he didn't notice when they pulled onto a road not well traveled upon which led deep into the woods. The car stopped among dripping branches and crumpled leaves, and Keith climbed out, the metallic spurs on his cheap cowboy boots spinning madly.
The other two followed suit, and rather than risk feeling like a moron alone in the backseat, Mike joined them.
Very quickly, he was knocked to the ground, his head hitting a low hanging tree branch. Light swam before his eyes. Through much struggling, Mike's pants were ripped away and his legs squeezed. His muscles taut, he trashed wildly beneath the pressing weight of another body. The rain fell on Mike's face, and mud seeped through his clothes, but he was hardly conscious of this. The pain, the obnoxious laughter, the sickening grunts made deep in someone's throat, and his jeans crumpled on the ground before his eyes made him realize that all the rumours he'd heard were true. Cold metal dug into Mike's stomach as a pair of knock off cowboy boots dug viciously into his torso.
Drifting in and out of consciousness, Mike watched the blurred shape of a dark car rolling away.
Later-- unsure of how much time had passed-- Mike crawled, dragging his jeans, towards the sound of civilzation. Collapsing onto the shoulder of the road, tiny pebbles digging into his skin, a sharp ache searing his thighs, Mike looked up into the face of an angel.