THE PHOEBE YEARS
Author's Note/ I am SO sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter written. I've been busy with a lot of things recently. I don't own Friends, no matter how much I beg NBC. Let all readers beware: I have put as much angst into this as possible. If it results in severe mental trauma, don't blame me; you were warned. Also, thank you to Kimmy Larisa and Teacherchez for being frequent reviewers.
Chapter IV: Alone
"Hey babe."
Phoebe whirled around to see who had spoken. Standing beside a chain-link fence was a man about eighteen years old. He was wearing a leather jacket that looked like he had just stolen it from the Fanz. His hair was long and uncombed, while plenty of stubble grew around his face. Clamped between his teeth was an unlit joint, while his hands clasped a chain.
Phoebe and the guy were deep inside an alley, so deep that no police would dare enter. The guy's eyes seemed almost red, and actually glowed in the light of the sun. He bared his teeth as he ground them into the marijuana. There was no doubt about it: this guy was as dangerous as a steel blade.
"I said 'Hey babe'," repeated the guy, taking a large step closer to Phoebe.
"Hey," Phoebe said in a hoarse whisper.
Quickly, she tried to back away from him. The guy was having none of that, though. He quickly moved behind Phoebe blocked her path. He grinned so much that Phoebe was afraid he would reveal a set of shark's teeth way in the back.
"Name's Jake, baby," said the guy as he set a muscular hand on Phoebe's shoulder.
Suddenly, his grip tightened. Phoebe gritted her teeth as Jake's muscular fingers dug into her. "Yeah, that's how they all look," he said mischievously.
"Whaddayawant," Phoebe said quickly.
"Well," said Jake, pretending he had to think hard about that, "you see, I'm sort of a big man around here. I'm kind of like this neighborhood's version of the Godfather. I do something for people, and they do something for me. Nice arrangement, isn't it?"
"Utopian," Phoebe replied, gazing down at the asphalt to avoid Jake's vampire eyes.
"Well, I've already done something for you," said Jake, making his grip on Phoebe's shoulder so tight that she wanted to cry, "I haven't hurt you anymore than squeezing you a little. And, believe me, I can hurt you a lot more than that."
He grinned, and Phoebe was reminded of Creepjob. She had seen that same look in his eyes while he was undressing her. Rape was on Jake's mind. Well, why not. Phoebe's life was already miserable.
And having some guy force his thing inside you is going to change that?
"My you're quiet," said Jake, rubbing the hand not holding the chain along her side, "and maybe that's a good thing. You see, around here, women do two things: they either do it without a word, or they do it screaming. I don't think you're the screaming type, Sugar."
God, he was like a younger Creepjob. He had even adopted her stepfather's odious nickname for Phoebe. Could she give this guy a kick in the balls?
"Ah!" Phoebe shouted.
Jake had apparently gotten bored with just threatening, so he slapped his chain across her face. An enormous red mark was branded onto her skin.
"Bastard," she yelled.
Jake didn't seem bothered by this comment; guys like him took pride in being bastards, sons of bitches, and Creepjobs.
"I know what you were thinking," he said in a whisper so quiet it was menacing, "you were thinking you'll let me pull down my pants than give me a good old kick. Well, Sugar, I don't play that game."
With a burst of strength, Jake thrust Phoebe to the ground. The back of her head slapped against the concrete, briefly making her mind cloud. Jake was standing over her, chain still in hand. With revulsion, Phoebe noticed the enormous bulge in Jake's pants. Creepjob all over again.
"Let's see those legs spread, slut," said Jake.
Phoebe tried to resist, but a moment latter her legs were spread into a triangle. Fear of what Jake might do with that chain forced her. She closed her eyes tight, blocking out whatever sickening things she might see. But she could block out all her senses.
She felt his hands, callused and strong, pull her pants down in one quick motion. It felt kind of like a rope burn. Of course, that was the least of her problems. One hand, the one even now grasping the chain with a few fingers, felt Phoebe's breasts through her shirt before tweaking the nipples.
He's Creepjob. I don't care how different he looks, this guy IS Creepjob! His erection is up right now; I know it. He's about to press it in. Oh God!
Suddenly, the hand on Phoebe's breasts pulled away sharply. She opened her eyes as she heard a very loud thud. Instead of Jake standing over her, seeming to glow with menace, he was sprawled on the pavement. His chain, his precious, power-giving chain, was lying several feet away. Phoebe noted with joy that he was clutching a bruised eye.
"Phoebes, you all right?"
Phoebe looked up and almost cried for joy. It was Sidney! Sure he was insane, but he had just knocked Creepjob incarnate down!
"Fine," Phoebe managed to say.
"Fucking bastard," Jake said as he lunged for his chain.
Before his Jake's hand could make its fatal clutch on its weapon, Sidney gave Jake a sharp, strong kick in the belly.
"Sonofabitch," the would-be-rapist cursed, barely above a whisper.
"Keep away from her abbalah!" yelled Sidney in a mixture of English and his own, invented language, "If you geshun Phoebe, I'll broksed murder you."
Sidney leaned down and picked up Jake's chain. The balance of power had just changed dramatically. Jake look with scared eyes as a literal lunatic whipped the chain back and forth while shouting, "Pickun broksed kill ratwer Phoebe. TWURPIC!"
With that last, nonsense word, Sidney whipped Jake's chest with the chain. Jake quickly scurried/ran away, with Sidney cursing in his invented language behind him. Phoebe sighed with immeasurable relief. Finding her pants nearby, Phoebe hastily pulled them on. She had come a lot closer to being truly raped with the original Creepjob than she had with Jake, but it had still unnerved her. If Sidney hadn't come, Phoebe would be losing her virginity to that punk at that moment.
"Sidney, oh my God, you are wonderful," Phoebe said.
Sidney blushed at this compliment. As far as Phoebe was concerned now, Sidney could do no wrong. Maybe life wasn't such a bitch after all.
* * *
Phoebe awoke in the middle of her car/home. What was that? It was the middle of the night in no-streetlamp country, so Phoebe couldn't see what was going on. It sounded like whatever was going on was coming from outside the car. Pushing herself up, the newspaper blanket rustling as she did, Phoebe whispered, "Sidney?"
No answer. Phoebe didn't dare speak louder in case it was a group of looters making the noise. Quietly, Phoebe got off her seat and crawled forward in the car. She felt along the floor and the seats for her friend. There was no sound of Sidney's snoring or conversations with his hand. No matter where Phoebe felt, she couldn't find him.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Phoebe didn't jump, instead, she became extremely, extremely still. Somebody was screaming just outside the old Ford. Briefly, though, Phoebe caught another voice laughing. It sent a chill down her spine. She crawled underneath one of the Ford's seats and waited.
There was no light, so there was absolutely nothing to distract Phoebe from the screaming. The voice came to her again and again. She curled up more underneath the chair, hoping and praying that whoever was in pain would stop. Stop screaming! Please, for the love of God, stop screaming! Stop!
And it did. The screaming quickly died away to a gurgling sound, and then into nothing. A sinister chuckle interrupted the stillness left by the pained one's passing. Phoebe knew the voice, but she would not say the name. Never say that name, not even in your own mind, or its owner might come for you.
Phoebe did not sleep. She could not. She lay awake in the car, in the dark. The hours dragged by like weeks. She just lay there, hoping and praying that she had not heard those noises. Dear God, let them just be part of my imagination.
After an eternity of being in darkness, dawn began to break. Light came into the car, making things look almost normal. But they weren't. Nothing was normal. Nothing could ever be normal until Phoebe knew whether those screams during the night had been real. Like an animal driven solely by instinct, she crept up and prepared to open the door.
There is nothing out there. Nothing happened during the dark time. Everything is all right. Everything is NORMAL.
She opened the door to reveal Sidney's body, horribly beaten, throat slit, and with a mocking chain lying on his chest.
Phoebe screamed.
Author's Note/ I am SO sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter written. I've been busy with a lot of things recently. I don't own Friends, no matter how much I beg NBC. Let all readers beware: I have put as much angst into this as possible. If it results in severe mental trauma, don't blame me; you were warned. Also, thank you to Kimmy Larisa and Teacherchez for being frequent reviewers.
Chapter IV: Alone
"Hey babe."
Phoebe whirled around to see who had spoken. Standing beside a chain-link fence was a man about eighteen years old. He was wearing a leather jacket that looked like he had just stolen it from the Fanz. His hair was long and uncombed, while plenty of stubble grew around his face. Clamped between his teeth was an unlit joint, while his hands clasped a chain.
Phoebe and the guy were deep inside an alley, so deep that no police would dare enter. The guy's eyes seemed almost red, and actually glowed in the light of the sun. He bared his teeth as he ground them into the marijuana. There was no doubt about it: this guy was as dangerous as a steel blade.
"I said 'Hey babe'," repeated the guy, taking a large step closer to Phoebe.
"Hey," Phoebe said in a hoarse whisper.
Quickly, she tried to back away from him. The guy was having none of that, though. He quickly moved behind Phoebe blocked her path. He grinned so much that Phoebe was afraid he would reveal a set of shark's teeth way in the back.
"Name's Jake, baby," said the guy as he set a muscular hand on Phoebe's shoulder.
Suddenly, his grip tightened. Phoebe gritted her teeth as Jake's muscular fingers dug into her. "Yeah, that's how they all look," he said mischievously.
"Whaddayawant," Phoebe said quickly.
"Well," said Jake, pretending he had to think hard about that, "you see, I'm sort of a big man around here. I'm kind of like this neighborhood's version of the Godfather. I do something for people, and they do something for me. Nice arrangement, isn't it?"
"Utopian," Phoebe replied, gazing down at the asphalt to avoid Jake's vampire eyes.
"Well, I've already done something for you," said Jake, making his grip on Phoebe's shoulder so tight that she wanted to cry, "I haven't hurt you anymore than squeezing you a little. And, believe me, I can hurt you a lot more than that."
He grinned, and Phoebe was reminded of Creepjob. She had seen that same look in his eyes while he was undressing her. Rape was on Jake's mind. Well, why not. Phoebe's life was already miserable.
And having some guy force his thing inside you is going to change that?
"My you're quiet," said Jake, rubbing the hand not holding the chain along her side, "and maybe that's a good thing. You see, around here, women do two things: they either do it without a word, or they do it screaming. I don't think you're the screaming type, Sugar."
God, he was like a younger Creepjob. He had even adopted her stepfather's odious nickname for Phoebe. Could she give this guy a kick in the balls?
"Ah!" Phoebe shouted.
Jake had apparently gotten bored with just threatening, so he slapped his chain across her face. An enormous red mark was branded onto her skin.
"Bastard," she yelled.
Jake didn't seem bothered by this comment; guys like him took pride in being bastards, sons of bitches, and Creepjobs.
"I know what you were thinking," he said in a whisper so quiet it was menacing, "you were thinking you'll let me pull down my pants than give me a good old kick. Well, Sugar, I don't play that game."
With a burst of strength, Jake thrust Phoebe to the ground. The back of her head slapped against the concrete, briefly making her mind cloud. Jake was standing over her, chain still in hand. With revulsion, Phoebe noticed the enormous bulge in Jake's pants. Creepjob all over again.
"Let's see those legs spread, slut," said Jake.
Phoebe tried to resist, but a moment latter her legs were spread into a triangle. Fear of what Jake might do with that chain forced her. She closed her eyes tight, blocking out whatever sickening things she might see. But she could block out all her senses.
She felt his hands, callused and strong, pull her pants down in one quick motion. It felt kind of like a rope burn. Of course, that was the least of her problems. One hand, the one even now grasping the chain with a few fingers, felt Phoebe's breasts through her shirt before tweaking the nipples.
He's Creepjob. I don't care how different he looks, this guy IS Creepjob! His erection is up right now; I know it. He's about to press it in. Oh God!
Suddenly, the hand on Phoebe's breasts pulled away sharply. She opened her eyes as she heard a very loud thud. Instead of Jake standing over her, seeming to glow with menace, he was sprawled on the pavement. His chain, his precious, power-giving chain, was lying several feet away. Phoebe noted with joy that he was clutching a bruised eye.
"Phoebes, you all right?"
Phoebe looked up and almost cried for joy. It was Sidney! Sure he was insane, but he had just knocked Creepjob incarnate down!
"Fine," Phoebe managed to say.
"Fucking bastard," Jake said as he lunged for his chain.
Before his Jake's hand could make its fatal clutch on its weapon, Sidney gave Jake a sharp, strong kick in the belly.
"Sonofabitch," the would-be-rapist cursed, barely above a whisper.
"Keep away from her abbalah!" yelled Sidney in a mixture of English and his own, invented language, "If you geshun Phoebe, I'll broksed murder you."
Sidney leaned down and picked up Jake's chain. The balance of power had just changed dramatically. Jake look with scared eyes as a literal lunatic whipped the chain back and forth while shouting, "Pickun broksed kill ratwer Phoebe. TWURPIC!"
With that last, nonsense word, Sidney whipped Jake's chest with the chain. Jake quickly scurried/ran away, with Sidney cursing in his invented language behind him. Phoebe sighed with immeasurable relief. Finding her pants nearby, Phoebe hastily pulled them on. She had come a lot closer to being truly raped with the original Creepjob than she had with Jake, but it had still unnerved her. If Sidney hadn't come, Phoebe would be losing her virginity to that punk at that moment.
"Sidney, oh my God, you are wonderful," Phoebe said.
Sidney blushed at this compliment. As far as Phoebe was concerned now, Sidney could do no wrong. Maybe life wasn't such a bitch after all.
* * *
Phoebe awoke in the middle of her car/home. What was that? It was the middle of the night in no-streetlamp country, so Phoebe couldn't see what was going on. It sounded like whatever was going on was coming from outside the car. Pushing herself up, the newspaper blanket rustling as she did, Phoebe whispered, "Sidney?"
No answer. Phoebe didn't dare speak louder in case it was a group of looters making the noise. Quietly, Phoebe got off her seat and crawled forward in the car. She felt along the floor and the seats for her friend. There was no sound of Sidney's snoring or conversations with his hand. No matter where Phoebe felt, she couldn't find him.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Phoebe didn't jump, instead, she became extremely, extremely still. Somebody was screaming just outside the old Ford. Briefly, though, Phoebe caught another voice laughing. It sent a chill down her spine. She crawled underneath one of the Ford's seats and waited.
There was no light, so there was absolutely nothing to distract Phoebe from the screaming. The voice came to her again and again. She curled up more underneath the chair, hoping and praying that whoever was in pain would stop. Stop screaming! Please, for the love of God, stop screaming! Stop!
And it did. The screaming quickly died away to a gurgling sound, and then into nothing. A sinister chuckle interrupted the stillness left by the pained one's passing. Phoebe knew the voice, but she would not say the name. Never say that name, not even in your own mind, or its owner might come for you.
Phoebe did not sleep. She could not. She lay awake in the car, in the dark. The hours dragged by like weeks. She just lay there, hoping and praying that she had not heard those noises. Dear God, let them just be part of my imagination.
After an eternity of being in darkness, dawn began to break. Light came into the car, making things look almost normal. But they weren't. Nothing was normal. Nothing could ever be normal until Phoebe knew whether those screams during the night had been real. Like an animal driven solely by instinct, she crept up and prepared to open the door.
There is nothing out there. Nothing happened during the dark time. Everything is all right. Everything is NORMAL.
She opened the door to reveal Sidney's body, horribly beaten, throat slit, and with a mocking chain lying on his chest.
Phoebe screamed.