Signed, Anonymous
Chapter Six
Shattered

Hands, his cold hands on her body, making her shiver. It was with those hands that he touched her in places she had never been touched in before. Fingers, tracing the outlines of her breasts, made her choke on her sobs. His mouth by her ears, whispering nasty things to her, nibbling on her ear. She could feel his heartbeat against hers through his sweaty skin.

She was crying, screaming out for help until her voice grew hoarse. Tears streamed from her eyes, landing on her hair that was strewn about her head. She was helpless. He overpowered her, had total control. She was but a toy to him.

"Stop," she sobbed. "Stop."

He never replied, not that she really wanted him to. Words were not what she wanted. What she wanted, was to rewind time, to be home with her family and have this never happen. But she knew that was impossible and this was an event that could, and would, change her life forever. There was no getting over this. Ever.

She couldn't breathe. Her lungs were collapsing. Soon, she was gasping for life, and even then he didn't stop. Every passing minute seemed like an eternity. She began to think that he was never going to quit. He had already gotten what he wanted, why wasn't he stopping?
Her vision was clouding and she felt dizzy.

"I...can't...breathe..." she moaned, closing her eyes.

He sucked on her neck. "I love it when you talk dirty to me, sweetheart."

Just when she thought he was going to go for another round, he rolled off of her and onto the wooden floor, landing with a thump. It was there he stayed until he decided that it was time for him to leave. Without a word, he stood and left the room, his bare feet clump-clump-ing away.

Ruthie let her head fall to the side. Knowing that her chances to survive with this creep were slim to none, and her chances of getting away was unthinkable. He had won, and for the first time in her life, she had felt the pang of defeat. For the first time in her life, she was the weaker one.

For a long time, she felt nothing. Her heart was completely numb, and that numbness wouldn't wear off for a very, very long time. Every day that passed, went by in a haze. She was entirely oblivious to the outside world. Not being able to accept what had happened to her, she went into a kind of coma that she did not slip out of until she become aware of her sister coming to rescue her. And even then, Hunter beat her.

She would have a guilt cloud hang over her head, following her everywhere she went. It was her fault that she got kidnapped. It was her fault that she put Lucy in that situation. It was her fault that she got raped. The gossiping church ladies were right: she did bring in on herself. She was a bad, very bad, girl.

"That's seven years bad luck, you know."

Ruthie's memory broke away as a voice in her doorway sounded. Her head snapped to the speaker, finding herself looking straight into the sparkling green eyes of Colton Hunter.

Pushing shirt after shirt aside, Eric rummaged around in his dresser drawer searching for the letter that Annie had taken from him. He knew that he shouldn't, that he had already gone against her wishes many times about this, but he had to know. Thanksgiving was upon them, the older children arriving soon, and he still did not have his answer. His hands closed around an item in the back that seemed to be stuck. Giving it a hard yank, he managed to free it.

"So that's where that's been," he mumbled, examining an old Hawaiian shirt that Annie had never liked. Shrugging, he tossed the shirt aside. "She could have done better than that."

Minutes passed, and he soon remained empty-handed. Perhaps he should listen to his wife and let the letter alone for a while. It would make Annie happy, for a day, anyway, he pondered.

Eric slumped onto the bed. His eyes slid over to the brightly colored shirt that seemed to be calling out to him.

"Why not?" he said aloud, even thought he knew why not. Tugging on the shirt proved a bit difficult, seeing as he had filled out a bit since he had first bought it several years ago when he and Annie were first married. As he was buttoning the last few buttons, he caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror.

He smirked. The shirt felt a little smug, but it didn't look it. Standing, he clicked his tongue and pointed to his reflection, satisfied. "He-ello, sir."

Sanity was one thing that many of the Camden women lacked when their men strayed from them. Absurd scenarios flickered in and out of their minds as they wondered when their husband was going to come home, or even if he was coming home. They wondered, if they had stayed out that extra minute, if they were doing exactly what they said they would be doing, or not doing.

On that particular night, Lucy had fallen victim to her hereditary insanity.

She had been washing dishes, more vigorously than necessary. Soap bubbles flew as she dipped-scrubbed-and-rinsed. Water splashed on the floor and on her clothes. It was a wonder why she hadn't broken any glass yet.

"...'Roxanne is my partner.' 'I depend on Roxanne.' Special assignment my butt..." Lucy muttered as she dunked another blue plate into the warm, sudsy water. "We'll just have to see if he gets any tonight!" And with that, she tossed the dish aside to dry in the white holder.

Kevin had been gone for hours, without a single phone call. Needless to say, Lucy was beginning to doubt his sincerity. She was seriously considering calling down to that police station and ask about him, but she wouldn't. The rest of the day would wear on with her wondering if she was ever going to get to see her husband again, or if she would ever have her dinner plans carried through. If this 'special assignment' crap didn't come to a stop soon, she wouldn't be able to enjoy a night out with him.

Without thinking, she flung herself at him, wanting to throw him to the floor, but only succeeding in him stumbling two steps backward. Swinging, she landed blow after blow to his chest, wanting to completely shatter his ribcage, wanting to make him experience what it was like not to be able to breathe.

He seemed to be in some state of shock, not being able to do anything to defend himself against her. She had caught him off guard. This time he was the one unprepared for the inevitable hurt that would befall him. He deserved more than this, of course, he deserved to be shot to death, deserved to be run over again and again, even after he was dead.

"Ruthie," he called to her. "Ruthie, stop."

In her mind she laughed at his pathetic words. She would never stop. He was an evil man, an evil man who ruined her future and contaminated her past. Ruthie hit him harder, not even bothering to look into his face as she did. He wasn't worth it.

"Hey, I'm sorry. It was a joke." His voice sounded happy.

Was he laughing at her?

A hand closed tightly around her wrist before she could punch him again. She tried to jerk away, but it was useless. Once again, he had beat her. With just one hand, she couldn't do much, so she settled for kicking him in the shin.

"Ruthie, stop. It's me. It's Simon."

Ruthie looked up, at first seeing nothing but Colton's pointed face. Within seconds, Colton cleared out like fog as the sun rose and her brother's familiar features came into view. Simon looked so worried, so concerned, about her. He was confused, you could see it in his eyes, the eyes that only seconds before, she had been so very convinced that they were Colton's.

Her heart sunk as tears welled up. She felt terrible. Her secret was consuming her, running every aspect of her life, blinding her to those who she was loved by. Everything was tied back to the Hunters. Every single thing, no matter how small.

"What's going on?" Annie and Eric had appeared, their expressions identical to Simon's.

"We heard something break," Annie provided.

Simon looked past Ruthie's shoulders, into her bathroom. She followed his gaze, and saw shards of glass covering the floor and counter space. Above the sink, the mirror had been destroyed. That was when she felt the throbbing pain creeping up her right arm. Jagged pieces of the mirror were lodged in her skin. Blood was slowly streaming down her hand and dropping onto the floor.

"What happened?" Eric asked, as he and Annie stepped past Ruthie to investigate, not yet noticing their daughter's injury.

Simon paled. "Ruthie, your hand." He watched as another drop of blood hit the floor.

The moments after became a blur. She couldn't remember much, just her mother's face draining of color to match Simon's, and her parents coming towards her; she remembered Simon helping her down the stairs and into the car. They were heading to the hospital. Annie had stayed home, for Matt, Sarah, and Mary were to arrive at any time.

Simon had sat with Ruthie in the back seat, holding her hand that wasn't shredded, as they rode. The last thing that she remembered was Simon telling her, "You're going to be fine, Ruthie. Just hang on."

Then she past out.