Well, I'm just going to put this out here and hope no one freaks out. If you aren't comfortable with a rape situation, don't read ahead. It's not exactly what I wanted to have in this story, but now it's important in my story line and i don't want to change it. Just keep having faith in Jenny and read ahead. I don't think it's that bad, anyway.
Jenny found herself in a big apartment, full of practical black furniture and books. She had figured Tristan lived on his own, since there was no other trace of human presence.
Tristan slid his hands around her waist. "You look good enough to eat," he mumbled in her ear. She felt a shiver run through her body, but it wasn't sparks. The adrenaline was gone. It felt strange, alone with another guy after Erik. It just didn't seem possible. She belonged with him, and only him.
What was she doing here?
"Uh, you know what? How about I give you my number, and some other time-"
Her voice was cut off by Tristan's cool lips on hers. He pinned her against the wall, but she didn't resist. It wasn't so bad, but it wasn't right either. Jenny tried putting her hands on his chest and pushing him away, but he held her down.
"N-No- Tristan! H-Hey!" she gasped between the forced kisses.
Tristan took her thin wrists between her hands and pulled her towards a bedroom. It was big and white, with fancy oak furnishings and a big view. Jenny's heart felt like it was about tear right out of her chest. She couldn't breathe.
His hands reached her neck, playing with the tie of her dress. Chills ran down her spine as she tried to think of ways of escaping. She felt his hands gently tug on her dress, and the bile rise in her throat. Oh god, this was so wrong. Oh god, oh god, oh god!
Tristan smirked drunkenly as he unbuttoned his own shirt. Jenny felt so exposed, so vulnerable and used. She wanted to drive a knife through him; this guy was sick and twisted. Jenny gagged.
How many other girls had he done this to?
As Tristan crawled over to where she was lying – now in a pair of boxers, Jenny ducked and rolled off the bed to the corner of the room. She flung open a closet door, her body shaking violently. Pressing her feet against the door, Jenny sunk under an old pile of blankets.
"Holy shit. Oh dear god. Oh no," she whispered to herself as the door rattled. Her fingers, feeling like jelly, reached out and tried to click the lock. She couldn't do it – she was fumbling too much.
The door tore open, revealing Tristan panting. He had an angry look in his eye. "Jenny . . ." he said, trying to be soothing, but it alarmed her even more. He pinned her against the door, and she imagined what it would look like outside. It was cold, and raining. All you'd be able to see was Jenny's fingernails screeching down the glass like an old horror movie.
There was only one sound echoing through the house, and it was terrifying.
It was Jenny's ear piercing scream drowning out under Tristan's hands.