Disclaimer: (Just because I love sticking these creative little brain
leakages up here.) I still don't own this cartoon... or the Southeastern US
and Hawaii. (Long story, IM me and I'll explain.) If I did own Hey Arnold,
I would be a character on there in an instant... like Mitzi's granddaughter
(i.e. Arnold's second cousin, I think...?). Yes, life would be grand.
Skittles to everyone who's reviewed thus far, I'm very happy to see your
thoughts.
WARNING- PLEASE READ BEFORE PROCEEDING TO READ THIS CHAPTER: This section of "Orchids in Winter", for the sake of influencing later chapters, may be viewed as graphic by some readers. If you want a summary instead of reading it, feel free to email me. I don't intend to offend anyone, so please- allow me my artistic license. Any flames will be used for a weenie roast and s'more-fest in the next chapter. Thank you for reading thus far, and enjoy.
Chapter Twelve: Figured You Out
She walked back from the MCA, humming the last song from the concert. The band Staind had just performed, and she had enjoyed the show immensely: Despite having to run the spotlight for an hour and a half, she'd gotten the whole band to sign the shirts she'd bought before the concert began- one for her, and one for Arnold as a Christmas present. As she finished humming that song, she began humming another of Arnold's favorite bands- Nickelback's "Figured You Out".
Footsteps behind her suddenly caught her attention, and she sped up. Her imagination elaborated on her fear, telling her the footfalls were also quickening. 'This is ridiculous!' she thought angrily, and forced herself to turn around.
No one was there... at least, no one was there behind her then. A hand covered her mouth as she faced her previous direction, while an arm wrapped around her torso to face her wherever the assaulter wanted. She let out a muffled scream, unable to open her mouth.
"Go to Murray parking lot," the man said. She tried to refuse bodily, but he jerked her body and head in painfully separate directions. She then obliged, letting him lead her, roughly, to a black truck, where he forced her onto the bed of the vehicle. "Don't move," he snarled as he uncovered her mouth.
"Why not?" she hissed at him: If she couldn't use her arms, she could attack with her words instead. "I could just scream."
He turned her to face him, meeting his emotionless brown eyes- that she recognized from somewhere- with her flashing blue ones. "And I could just shoot you and dump you in the river." A pistol was produced from his jeans and pointed at her. "Your decision."
The eyes finally connected to a person in her memory. "Tyler!" she gasped, fighting to escape once more. "Tyler, you wouldn't! Please, you honestly don't..."
The expression hardening on his face, he did not answer. She felt herself go numb and cold as the muzzle pressed, hard, into her ribs. He lifted her arms over her head with his free hand, and wrapped a bungee cord around her wrists, then strapped them to the side of the truck. Her pants were pulled down, as were her panties, and she began to weep out of fear. 'Think of Arnold, think of Arnold,' she ordered herself, her inner voice trembling.
"Well, well... am I scaring you?" he asked coldly. She looked away- and he slapped her. "You're scared. I can feel it, and I'm enjoying every minute of it." He unzipped his jeans while she looked away again, tears streaming down her cheeks.
'I was saving myself,' she thought bitterly, 'I was saving myself for Arnold- you horrible, wicked, awful BOY!' On that, he had forced himself inside her, and she screamed from the shock and sudden pain.
"That's right, bitch," he growled in her ear, along with other dark and terrible secrets, as she sobbed louder. She just let him continue, unwilling and unable to fight because of the physical and emotional pain that was breaking over her in tsunami-sized waves. He finished a few minutes later, dumping her on the ground and taking off in the truck. Still aching from the rape, she tried to stand up but could not.
"I've been raped," she acknowledged aloud, then louder, "I was raped. RAPED." She could not taste anything but the occasional tear that made its way into her mouth; hear anything but her pounding, broken heart; smell anything but his expensive, disgusting cologne. She finally, slowly, made her way inside Murray Hall, found a phone, and dialed 911. Through her tears, she begged, "Please... help me."
***
Author's spiel: As I said above, I fully endorse this chapter as a part of my work and am even willing to say I am proud of it, despite it's hurting me to write it. Like every child, as this story is to me, you take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have The Facts of Life... the Facts of Life. *laughs weakly at her own joke, then passes out the tissues* If enough people who review say they were offended or hated this chapter, I will edit it, I promise. Please continue to read: Chapter 13, Savior, is next. Luvs- PopStarOE
WARNING- PLEASE READ BEFORE PROCEEDING TO READ THIS CHAPTER: This section of "Orchids in Winter", for the sake of influencing later chapters, may be viewed as graphic by some readers. If you want a summary instead of reading it, feel free to email me. I don't intend to offend anyone, so please- allow me my artistic license. Any flames will be used for a weenie roast and s'more-fest in the next chapter. Thank you for reading thus far, and enjoy.
Chapter Twelve: Figured You Out
She walked back from the MCA, humming the last song from the concert. The band Staind had just performed, and she had enjoyed the show immensely: Despite having to run the spotlight for an hour and a half, she'd gotten the whole band to sign the shirts she'd bought before the concert began- one for her, and one for Arnold as a Christmas present. As she finished humming that song, she began humming another of Arnold's favorite bands- Nickelback's "Figured You Out".
Footsteps behind her suddenly caught her attention, and she sped up. Her imagination elaborated on her fear, telling her the footfalls were also quickening. 'This is ridiculous!' she thought angrily, and forced herself to turn around.
No one was there... at least, no one was there behind her then. A hand covered her mouth as she faced her previous direction, while an arm wrapped around her torso to face her wherever the assaulter wanted. She let out a muffled scream, unable to open her mouth.
"Go to Murray parking lot," the man said. She tried to refuse bodily, but he jerked her body and head in painfully separate directions. She then obliged, letting him lead her, roughly, to a black truck, where he forced her onto the bed of the vehicle. "Don't move," he snarled as he uncovered her mouth.
"Why not?" she hissed at him: If she couldn't use her arms, she could attack with her words instead. "I could just scream."
He turned her to face him, meeting his emotionless brown eyes- that she recognized from somewhere- with her flashing blue ones. "And I could just shoot you and dump you in the river." A pistol was produced from his jeans and pointed at her. "Your decision."
The eyes finally connected to a person in her memory. "Tyler!" she gasped, fighting to escape once more. "Tyler, you wouldn't! Please, you honestly don't..."
The expression hardening on his face, he did not answer. She felt herself go numb and cold as the muzzle pressed, hard, into her ribs. He lifted her arms over her head with his free hand, and wrapped a bungee cord around her wrists, then strapped them to the side of the truck. Her pants were pulled down, as were her panties, and she began to weep out of fear. 'Think of Arnold, think of Arnold,' she ordered herself, her inner voice trembling.
"Well, well... am I scaring you?" he asked coldly. She looked away- and he slapped her. "You're scared. I can feel it, and I'm enjoying every minute of it." He unzipped his jeans while she looked away again, tears streaming down her cheeks.
'I was saving myself,' she thought bitterly, 'I was saving myself for Arnold- you horrible, wicked, awful BOY!' On that, he had forced himself inside her, and she screamed from the shock and sudden pain.
"That's right, bitch," he growled in her ear, along with other dark and terrible secrets, as she sobbed louder. She just let him continue, unwilling and unable to fight because of the physical and emotional pain that was breaking over her in tsunami-sized waves. He finished a few minutes later, dumping her on the ground and taking off in the truck. Still aching from the rape, she tried to stand up but could not.
"I've been raped," she acknowledged aloud, then louder, "I was raped. RAPED." She could not taste anything but the occasional tear that made its way into her mouth; hear anything but her pounding, broken heart; smell anything but his expensive, disgusting cologne. She finally, slowly, made her way inside Murray Hall, found a phone, and dialed 911. Through her tears, she begged, "Please... help me."
***
Author's spiel: As I said above, I fully endorse this chapter as a part of my work and am even willing to say I am proud of it, despite it's hurting me to write it. Like every child, as this story is to me, you take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have The Facts of Life... the Facts of Life. *laughs weakly at her own joke, then passes out the tissues* If enough people who review say they were offended or hated this chapter, I will edit it, I promise. Please continue to read: Chapter 13, Savior, is next. Luvs- PopStarOE