SEDUCING BAD BOYS -PART 3-

Car noises and the sound of swishing trees pull me out of my black bliss and I look around, feeling dizzy and disorientated.

Another car passes by and I look behind me to a stretch of road, bordered by trees and grass as far as I could see, half lying down.

The memory of last night makes me look around, alarmed but I find no sign of either my house or my father.

I relax a little. Maybe he knocked me out? He raped me and left me to die here, in the middle of some unknown place?

I had read quite a lot about these kind of things at school and I looked down at myself but didn't see any blood. That was a positive sign. And I didn't feel sore.

I did a mental victory dance and got up.

My bag was right next to me and I still had on my school skirt and a black, long sleeved Marilyn Manson t-shirt.

Sighting, I start walking in the direction the last car went and distractedly hum 'I've been workin' on the railroad. All night and day.'

A black Mercedes zooms past me and I stagger a bit, cursing the driver and quickly turning scarlet when the car's brakes showed and the car went back.

I determinedly turned my head away, hiding my bruises I felt there and continued walking, ignoring the driver and his hot Mercedes.

Yes, it was a he, I was sure of it, just the way he was driving had Hot-macho-and-rich written all over it.

"Hey!" The guy called.

I turned around and couldn't see the man very well in the darkness of the interior of his car.

But what I saw made me want to drool…if I hadn't just had my dad try to rape me the night before.

I grimace and continue walking, discreetly wiping my stray tear.

I hear the door open and close and panic when I hear the gravel behind me.

"Excuse me." He had his hand on my arm and I was as rigid as a plank.

"Have you seen this man?"

He shoves a picture in front of my nose.

I shake my head, wrench my arm out of his grasp, almost letting out a sob at what it called up from my memory and continue walking.

I can almost feel him cut his eyes to me but I just re-adjust my bag and ignore the queasy feeling at the pit of my stomach, asking me why I'd just thrown away my only chance at knowing where I'd landed.

I prefer asking someone else, thank you, this guy looks like a Mafioso or something…