One.
July had finally arrived, whether Cristina Abernathy wanted it to or not. Spending the summer in her uncle Samuel's dingy house in Caineville, Utah seemed almost soothing to her. It was a much needed change in scenery which was beckoning to her, drawing her out to the desert to start her life anew in the nearly barren wasteland which was free of computers, cell phones, and all other forms of communication as if fate had something special in store for her. But it wasn't fate as much as it was her father unexpectedly dying of a heart attack four months prior while traveling to Caineville was a seemingly harmless vactional decision appointed by no one other than Uncle Samuel himself.
Uncle Samuel was a fairly strong man who held his beliefs high except for in the face of other people, considering the majority of people hated having one's beliefs shoved down their throats. It was a principle he grew to learn over the years. If he had children, perhaps, then just maybe he would have had the opportunity to share his beliefs with them but no. He had no children, leaving his niece to be the closest thing he'd ever have as a daughter, especially after his wife died last May; Cristina was a great comfort to him when no one ran to his rescue.
Uncle Samuel's house was a one story, two bedroom and bathroom, located just inside the desert, mountains surrounding the area with canyons in the distance, three miles away from any neighbors. A year ago this house was remodeled but still dingy, the rusted pipes now pure steel and healthy and the chipped, peeling walls were contented and painted over with care. Cristina noted how the aroma of the place was a mixture of floral essence and faint cologne, a fairly pleasant smell to wake up to in the morning. And then there was the matter of no air conditioners installed which forced her bedroom to be hotter than expected, having no choice but to pry the window open and prayed it rain. Either way, she wasn't getting off that easily.
Since Uncle Samuel did not own a television set, Cristina opted to enjoy the scenery of the large mountains or perhaps the vast, empty canyons, thinking about hiking in an effort to experience the desert to see what it had to offer her. The canyons, she imagined, were filled with stories over the ages and held secrets inside them like a cherished chest full of a person's darkest secrets-whether they were good or bad- and kept locked away by a key, perhaps, hidden in a wall in the hole where no one would ever dream of searching. The vast, empty canyons lured her in the same way an abandoned house would draw someone in. Old abandoned houses were deemed to be haunted and if not haunted then infected with something sinister yet there are people who take the chance and venture out in search of the truth and whatever lies beyond the front entrance of that house, whatever evil or history that lies within that place, that person soon becomes part of it, branding their souls into the unknown. That was actually what Cristina was choosing to do: stepping foot inside the canyons, not knowing what lay beyond them but she figured she would find out all on her own and it was a beautiful day to do it. She dressed for the weather; she wore a pair of black shorts and a matching tang top which fitted nicely around her body and then she packed, bringing only necessities: water and food.
Upon leaving, she was stopped by Uncle Samuel who told her not to venture too far into the desert. He warned her that it was much too dangerous for a girl to be hiking out past the canyons alone; something could happen to her and he wouldn't be there to help her, he feared. Staying home would most likely benefit the two of them, seeing as that was what he was implying. When he spoke, he held such fear that he automatically implied something terrible would occur if she treaded out into the canyons and this got her going. She couldn't comprehend why her uncle was ghastly, why he feared for her safety like this. Had something horrendous happened one day when he was out there himself? Was someone out there who was considered a threat? Whatever the matter was, she promised to not go out the canyons but she didn't promise to not wander around outside a bit. After all, she was on vacation.
Calming down after hysteria in the late afternoon, Uncle Samuel suggested to his niece that she might want some fresh air and a delicious meal to go with it, seeing as he couldn't afford to leave his work station at the moment. He had been in the garage fixing up a truck as he gave her directions to The Luna Mesa, a bar and restaurant all in its own. The bar was owned and run by a close friend of her uncle's named Walter, an older man with long gray hair tied back and a mustache. Pulling out his wallet, he handed his niece a wad of cash for the night before warning her: "Be home by nine o'clock, Crissy." His words were crisp and commanding as if he expected trouble to erupt after nine. A sudden chill crawled down her spine as his words sunk in, instilling an unnecessary fear inside her. Was this his plan all along, to cause her paranoia and trepidation to the point of confining her within the stuffy house? If this was the case then why did he insist upon her spending the summer with him? Clearly, restrictions should not be made during times of relaxation. No, there had to be more to his warnings. He was usually a laid back person but when it came to his family he grew over protective.
Cristina quickly shook the startling thoughts away, knowing for a fact that her uncle meant no harm. This was a new town, new state….here she was probably considered a tourist while her uncle a local. With new environments came unfamiliar faces and not all were pleasant or helpful, she came to learn over the years. She cold understand, to a certain degree, her uncle's worry with her being petite and quiet beautiful with golden brown hair flowing past her delicate shoulders. If pinned against an enemy, she would be no match, being meek, but in any sense she told herself she was capable of managing.
"I'm just going out for dinner, Uncle Samuel, not a rave. I know that you're worried about me, especially after Daddy died but the truth is…I can take care of myself. It's not like I'll meet up with someone there…" Before she could say another word, she was cut off.
"Crissy, please." He half pleaded with her. "Come home before nine. You're a pretty girl and like any place you would go, you'll end up in the wrong place. I just want you to be safe, that's all."
"Alright," She nodded her head, agreeing to his conditions. "If it gets you through the night I will. Don't worry about me, uncle." Standing on her tipy toes, she planted a soft kiss on his cheek to reassure him. "Would you like me to bring you something back?"
"No, sweetheart. Walter makes the most delicious cheeseburgers you will ever taste, I'm telling you. You ought to try one before you head back to New Jersey." Uncle Samuel suggested, returning to his old self again. Cristina smiled at the sudden change, welcoming it with open arms. "Have fun, dear."
On the way to The Luna Mesa, Cristina's thoughts were nothing of cheeseburgers and ice cold soda to go with it. Instead, she thought of her hot stay, she would become captured and sent screaming to the canyons for help when no one would give a damn to lift a finger and help. She could be kidnapped, attacked, or left for dead and no one would know sent chills down her spine as her uncle's worry ate at her. The dreadful thoughts were pushed aside….she could not be like her uncle and have paranoia consume her. It was impossible for her to live the next two months like this…she just couldn't so she needed to clean her mind soon enough and pay no mind to him.
Much to her luck, The Luna Mesa was air conditioned, a savior sent down from heaven to look after her in the heat. Relief and coolness washed over her body the moment she waltzed inside the bar, taking in the atmosphere of the Luna Mesa. The bar/restaurant looked exactly like a place you'd find in the middle of the desert, she noted, with animal heads stuffed on the walls and a jukebox sitting to the left of the entrance. Uncle Samuel told her he went here ever Friday for some whiskey…he and Walker chatted casually like old friends. She looked around for this Walter but not until she took a seat in the far corner of the bar where no one would care to notice her.
"Can I get you anything, miss?" An old bandito spoke up, abruptly standing next to her table. Cristina lifted her head up, staring up at him and discovered him to be Walter, the man her uncle told her about. By the way he stood, she saw he held a strong demeanor and by looking at her, he saw the girl his closet friend had described. "You are just as pretty as your uncle said you were."
Cristina blushed at the compliment, her cheeks turning bright red. If anything, she didn't consider herself pretty but she would take whatever she could receive and suck it up. "I…thank you. You know my uncle?"
"Your name is…Cristina, I presume?" When she nodded her head, he smiled, pointing a friendly finger at her. "Ah, how could I forget such a wonderful name for such a beautiful gal like you? Tell me…why come out here when you could be having fun. Your uncle said you just graduated, no?" Cristina felt oddly uncomfortable that the stranger knew so much about her and for the moment, she loathed her uncle.
"I had no where else to stay really and my uncle insisting on me staying with him….it makes a lot of sense since I'm low on cash. Caineville's a nice change in scenery, it seems."
"You will have to say hello to your uncle for me. Now, what can I get you?" Walter turned all of his attention of her, not even blinking which striked Cristina as strange.
"I think I'll have a cheeseburger, well done." She didn't even have to think about it, having her uncle's suggestion burned into her mind already.
"I will have it out in a few. It was nice meeting with you, Cristina and I must say that it's such a tragedy about what happened to your father." Cristina couldn't help but watch him stalk off towards the kitchen, feeling a strange vibe rub off of him. Eating her cheeseburger when it finally arrived, her taste buds flared. Her uncle had been right. This was the best cheeseburger she ever tasted. After eating, she found Walter at the counter where she slapped money down onto all the while staring down at her watch which read 8:50 PM. She had ten minutes to get back to Uncle Samuel before he started asking questions.
'God, he is so paranoid. Why is he so afraid, anyways? The locals seem nice.' She thought to herself, only caring about getting home safely. Walter bid her goodnight before she whirled around to head off but just as she went for the door, her path was blocked.
"Well, what do we have here?" Cristina found herself to be staring down piercing blue eyes, belonging to a greasy hick who appeared to want nothing more than to violate her. His hair was greasy and dark brown and was covered in grease and sweat, smelling of cigarette smoke, musk, and liquor. By paying close attention, she saw his teeth were blackened. He was disgusting. "What's a pretty girl like you doing out here this late?"
"This girl is the niece of one of my closet friends, Mac. I suggest you leave her alone." Walter warned but to no avail, Mac ignored him with a flick of his hand.
Cristina's instincts told her to run but every time she moved, he seemed to move two steps in front of her. "I really need to get going….it's getting late." She started off strong in the wake of her explanation but as she trailed off, her voice grew meek.
"Why? I just got here….I say you stay a while and drink with me." Trying to push past him, Mac grabbed her by the elbow, his fingers bruising her fair, smooth skin. On her skin, his hands felt disgusting, hot and rough. In one quick movement, she jerked her elbow free, caressing it. "Drink with me…"
"I don't drink at all, sorry."
This time, he curled his strong fingers around her left arm and pulled her closer to his body. "You will if I say you are." His fingers dug deep into her skin as if he meant to pierce her. "You'll have whiskey…" Moving towards the bar counter and dragging Cristina with him, he grabbed two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey. Releasing his grip from her arm, she took this as an advantage and hurried out of The Luna Mesa, hoping to god that Mac wasn't following behind her.
"Hey!" Mac yelled behind her, storming after her in frustration and anger. Grabbing her by the arm before she could even make it to her car, he violently yanked her to him, dragging her off to his truck which is a red Silverado with four floodlights mounted on the top. He bent her over the open tailgate of his truck.
"Let me go!" She yelled, hoping someone from inside would hear and save her from this vile, frightening man.
"Shut up before you cause a scene!" In one hand, he held her wrists and pinned her arms behind her back, twisting them painfully. "Why do you have to ruin everything? I just wanted to have some drinks. You're gonna bit your tongue and stay a while."
"Fuck off." Frantically, she kicked at him but he only pinned her legs against the truck with one of his.
All of a sudden, her body seized as she felt a cold, sharp blade trailing along her spine. Mac had her tang top lifted up to her neck, revealing the fact that she wore no bra. "Tsk..tsk.. Are you going commando too?" Without warning, his right hand shot between her legs and grabbed her crotch, squeezing hard. He squeezed again and nudged her legs apart. Though her mind screamed no, her body responded and she grew wet between her thighs. "You like when I touch you, don't you? Dirty girl…"
"No! Please let me go….I'll go inside and have a few drinks with you." She struggled to free herself, thrashing around in his grasp.
Mac pressed the blade against her skin hard enough to make her feel the slight pain but not enough to break the skin. He was slow with his actions, teasing her. " But I'm just getting started." He smirked. His long, hunting knife fished out her laced panties from her blue shorts. "Maybe I should pull these off you for disrespecting me. You'd look a lot better without them." She waited for the right moment to kick him in the shin, when he was grinding against her, his erection pressing up into her inner thigh. Grunting, Mac stumbled backwards but quickly recovered, going for her again. "Fucking bitch!" Just as he went to push her back over the open tailgate, a shotgun cocked and was aimed at his head. It was the Sheriff.
"Alright, son….let the poor girl go." Sheriff Collins demanded and Mac stepped away from Cristina, putting his hands up in defeat, dropping the knife. "You alright, miss?"
Standing up straight and attempting to breathe, despite her difficulty now, she nodded her head. "I-I'm fine, officer." She couldn't help but steal a glance at Mac who did nothing but glare at her, ignoring the sheriff. "No cuts," She was grateful for Sheriff Collins; if he hadn't shown up when he did, who knows what would've happened. Equipped with a hunting knife, she stood no chance, not that she could fight back. He terrified her.
"Why don't you go on home now, Miss Abernathy? Take it easy and rest for the night. Mac won't be bothering you again, I'll make sure of it myself." Sheriff Collins turned to her before going back to Mac. "And you….I don't want to catch you laying a finger on her again, you hear me? You'll scare the poor girl off and that won't look good on my record." He waited for Cristina to get inside her car before he took off towards the Luna Mesa.
"Hey," Mac called out to Cristina, the sheriff obviously gone now. "Cristina dared to look at him through the window and what she saw was Mac stick his tongue out and flick it at her. "I hope to see you soon." Starting up the engine as fast as possible, she tore out of the parking lot and drove herself home.
It was an unnerving twenty minutes back to Uncle Samuel's house. Locking her uncle's spare care inside the garage next to the one he was repairing, she slowly made her way inside, feeling like her body was dipped in grime. As soon as she opened up the front door, she knew instantly that her uncle was trying to protect her from Mac. Why else would he giver her a set time to come home…. this man seemed to be a regular at The Luna Mesa and a perverted sex freak.
"Crissy, what the hell happened?" Uncle Samuel could see her body practically shaking, the fear in her eyes in which he held earlier today. "And didn't I tell you to come home before nine?"
"I had a run in with this man…." She itched at the bruise on her elbow, feeling her arm and legs tingle as she remembered the way he handled her. "He was so disgusting. I…" She couldn't continue the rest of her sentence.
"It was that bastard Mac, huh? Did he hurt you?" Her uncle demanded.
Cristina shook her head, making it clear to him that she was absolutely terrified of Mac which made him angrier. Perhaps if he had gone with her to the Luna Mesa then he could've protected her…but either way, he knew Mac better than he knew anyone. And because of this, he knew this was just the beginning.
"Get to bed now, Crissy. You'll be safe under my roof and when you wake up in the morning, this will all seem like a terrible nightmare." Uncle Samuel attempted to reassure his startled niece, laying her down in her cozy bed. He got Cristina in agreement and convinced her she'd b e alright but he certainly wasn't. Sometime tonight, Mac was going to show up, he judged and not once did he doubt it. He had not been at the Luna Mesa but the hunt had begun…the greasy hick knew about her and now that she was finally in Caineville, Mac would do whatever it took to have her.
Cristina watched with big eyes as Uncle Samuel stalked out of the room, leaving her door wide open as a precaution which she was glad for. She was exhausted but she could not fall asleep just yet as her uncle went around the entire house, locking all the doors and windows so no intrusion would occur. And it wasn't until the sound of a shotgun cocking that a sudden realization hit her. The man she ran into at the bar wasn't just any perverted greasy hick…he must've been dangerous and frightening for her uncle to decide to take out his gun and sleep with it. Her blood ran cold at the disturbing thought. But he had convinced her he would be her protector until this mess was over.
Even if he waited all night in the living room with his shotgun in his arms, ready to pull the trigger, Cristina was unnerved and sure all his efforts were useless. Part of her expected Mac to barge in; his words "I'll see you soon" ate away at her sanity and she desperately wanted to listen to her uncle's words but she was unable to. What prevented her was the impending fear and paranoia. She got up and turned off her bedroom light, darkness consuming the room whole almost like a black void. Staring into the dark, she found her way back to the soft, cozy bed on the other side of the room and climbed inside, pulling the bed sheet over her body. For nearly an hour, her was the walking dead, running on empty as her eyelids threatened to close on her. She struggled to stay awake, refusing to succumb but Uncle Samuel entered.
"For most of the night, I'll be out in my recliner so if you need me, you know where to find me. If anything happens, holler for me and I'll come running but don't worry, sweetheart. Mac won't step foot on my property. Get some sleep and I'll see you in the morning." A soft kiss was planted on her cheek before he exited the room, out to his watch position. Cristina rolled over onto her side, curling up into a ball as exhaustion finally possessed her…
It wasn't until two in the morning that a thunderous bang erupted through the dingy house, sounding as if a gun had gun off. Cristina woke up in a state of panic, bolting upright and covered in sweat as her blood ran cold. Fully awake, her eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of intrusion but fortunately, there was none. "Uncle Samuel?" She called out into the night, staring out through the open doorway and into the empty, narrow hall. "Uncle Samuel, was that you?" Raising her voice, she expected some type of reaction from her uncle but when there was no kind of reaction at all, she couldn't help but worry. There was no way she could comprehend why she was so damn worried when she knew he was fast asleep and perhaps he had just dropped his gun. Yes, he must've dropped his gun and it accidentally went off…but then why wasn't he awake? Wouldn't he have come to calm her down?
As much she loathed the idea, it was time to investigate. Kicking the sheets off her sweaty body, she climbed out of her bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boy shorts and an oversized T-shirt, the heat of the Utah desert nearly overwhelming for her. Swallowing hard, taking a deep breath, she exited the safety of her bedroom. She groped around for the light switch out in the hall and flicked it on instead of straining her eyes in the dark. As she walked slowly with caution, she mulled over countless possibilities of what she'd find. Stop it! She scolded herself. Your uncle is fine so stop worrying so much! Mac is not here and I'm pretty sure doesn't even know where the hell you live…
Reaching the living room all was silent. The lights were off which indicated he was probably still sleeping. With undeceiving eyes, she saw the figure of her uncle slumped over in his recliner, his left arm leaning over the arm of the chair. Thank god, he's just sleeping. She breathed a sigh of relief, forcing a smile over her pale face. He's asleep and now I can go back to bed without any interference.
Yawning, she turned on her heel, whirling around to head back to her bed all the while rubbing her eyes. See, Crisitna? Mac never showed up. Shutting off the lights, passing the light switch, she eventually climbed back in bed and the moment she laid her head down onto the pillow, her eyes closed as she drifted off…
Her sleep didn't last long, however. The sound of heavy footsteps creaking on the floorboards of the wooden floor kept her up. Her eyes fluttered open, hesitating after a moment of dead silence but once she thought she was her uncle up and about (probably a bathroom break), she closed her heavy eyelids. She fell back to sleep even as footsteps crept closer and closer towards her room. Feeling a presence in the doorway, she tossed and turned until she found a comfortable position.
The dark figure lingered in the doorway, his piercing cobalt eyes staring at the sleeping girl who held such innocence he never knew existed. Her uncle had been right about one thing: she was an angel, sweet and beautiful-a city girl for the taking, one who appeared to be a model in his eyes. Gripping his shotgun, covered in fresh blood, his fingers twitched at his sides as he sucked on his lower lip and bit it. Mac had the urge pounce on top of her, to just grab her, but he restrained himself. Cocking his head to the side, he slowly crept, inching closer to his obsession as the seconds passed, silently dragging his dirty steel toed boots across the wooden floor without any certainty of her waking up. He hovered over her, bending down so that his face was only an inch away from hers, his breath hot and heavy which added to the humidity of the desert.
Moving only slightly, he pressed his warm lips against her ear just as she stirred. He breathed but didn't exhale, whispering into her ear, speaking in a mocking manner. "Rinse and shine…" He waited for her to open her eyes before giving her a wide grin, exposing his ugly black teeth. Her heart thudded-no it stopped- as her first sight was Mac's face up close, the sight of him causing her eyes to widen and her skin crawl. He had, in fact, found her. She stifled a scream which was caught in her throat, threatening to choke her any minute now. Choking to death would have been the easy way out and she knew damn well that she wasn't lucky.
"You thought the old man could save you, huh? With the way he was brandishing that shotgun?" He stood up straight, tightening his grip on the gun to let her know he was armed. "I promised you I'd see you real soon, didn't I?" Even in the dark, she saw his eyes flicker like candles hanging on the wall, the flames illuminating the room. They were a mixture of lust and something sinister, pluming her deep within an abyss.
Cristina opened her mouth, forcing herself to scream and became determined to find her strength. She jerked up, sitting upright and crawled to the other side of the small bed in an effort to get away. Mac was faster, consequently, and curled his fingers around her ankles, his skin almost burning her pale flesh. He dragged her back to him, laying her out for good measure. "Where do you think you're going?" She felt the mattress sink down, shifting under the combined weight of her and Mac as he climbed on top of her, resting his knees down to the backs of hers. This move prevented her from kicking at him, his dead weight on her pasty legs but she fought anyway, finally finding her voice and screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping someone would hear her (seriously-who would be out in the desert at two in the morning?).
"That's it; scream. Your uncle can't hear you; his brain is all over the living room wall."
"No!" She screamed over and over, thrashing underneath him. "No, no! You bastard…let me go!"
"Do you want to see the bloody mess? I can show you his body…You really were stupid to think he was just sleeping. How about I smear your face into his blood?"
She was a mess, unable to cope with the fact Mac blew her uncle's brains all over the damn wall; she felt stupid for not noticing when she woke up because then maybe, she would have had the chance to escape. Uncle Samuel failed to protect her. He was dead because of her.
"No, you're a liar." A stream of hot tears flowed down her face, turning her head back to see dark splotches on Mac's hands and coveralls. She sunk deep into herself, wishing the bed frame would crack so she could fall through…hopefully into the deep depths of the earth and lie there until Death came for her. She couldn't help but take her words back, wishing she didn't, because the evidence was all too clear to not see. Her uncle was dead…Uncle Samuel had been brutally murdered….these were the only sentences her mind allowed her to think. And it's your fault. Sobbing uncontrollably, her entire body quivered, struggling to free herself in the process.
Mac, who was full of annoyance by the futile thrashing around, dropped the shotgun onto the wooden floor to give Cristina the indication that he is unarmed at the moment. "Shh…" He cooed, turning his shoulder coldly from her suffering. He pushed her face into the mattress, stroking the back of her head as he ran his dirty fingers through her luscious hair, pretending to comfort her when he was really grabbing a fistful of her hair. "Quiet now, pretty Crissy. It wasn't your uncle I wanted. It was you and I must say-his description did not do you justice. Oh no…." With a strong grip on her hair, he snaked his free hand down to the small of her back, his fingers grabbing the end of her night shirt. And without any hesitation, he pulled up her shirt which exposed her pale, smooth skin to his hungry eyes. "You know…you're brave to come out here, despite your uncle's dirty deeds but now, you're mine for the taking. I already know we're going to have so much fun."
"My uncle did nothing wrong! You're a fucking liar!" She refused to hear any justifications as to why he killed him; there was no reason to do so. "He was a good man!"
"You sure about that?" Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his trusty hunting knife which sparkled in the darkness. "You probably don't know every about the man you call 'Uncle Samuel'. He'd sell off the closest thing he has to a child just to save his life…I bet you didn't know that." Using his knife (he had it sharpened specially for this moment), he cut through her shirt, ripping it in two. Her bare back and pantied covered ass beckoned him to assault her with all his might and he was so close from giving in, nearly willing to jump off the cliff and enter temptation. He traced the line of her spine with his knife, trailing it up and down, never piercing her skin. For a meth addict, he was skilled yet Cristina trembled and whimpered under the touch of the cold blade, squeezing her eyes shut. "Your uncle is not the man you thought he was but I'll tell you that all in good time."
"Fuck you, Mac." She spat angrily.
"Oh, I plan to…" He promised, laughing as he seized her, grabbing her by the back of the neck and squeezed hard. Cristina shot her hands behind her, clawing at Mac, trying to dig her nails into his grimy hands. There was a problem with her plan because a struggle for dominance erupted with Mac using his free hand to pry her hands off his. His strong fingers ripped her off his, grunting her wrists and pinned them above her head. "Go ahead, Cristina. Fight me all you want but know that won't do you any good. I like you already…" Cristina shuddered as he bent down over her more, his lips brushing against her right ear.
Cristina had her face buried into the mattress, her head tossing back and forth as a fountain of tears rained down form her now puffy, red eyes. "Mac, please…" She threw her head back, turning her face in an effort to face him, thinking that if it was effective enough, he'd give in. "It's because I wouldn't drink with you, isn't it? I know you're pissed and I'm sorry…but I'll make it up to you, if you just let me go."
"Shut up," He bluntly ordered and climbed off her so he could flip her around onto her back. Her bare creamy white breasts were left exposed to his glazing eyes, hungry for lust. She meant to hide herself with her hands but Mac's rough hands found her plump breasts and kneaded them hard. "You don't listen, do you? Dumb bitch." As he groped and pinched her nipples, Cristina managed to free her legs, moving them on either side of him like she was straddling him, deciding if she was going to gain the upper hand, it would be now. Her attacker was oblivious to her next motive, sticking his head down between her breasts and grabbed one of her nipples with his lips, sucking on it like an infant in need of food. His hands trailed up and down sides just ti her feel her skin, tilting his head back only slightly so he could easily plunge night back.
Kick him! The voice in her head screamed, frantic and desperate to be free of this hell. What are you waiting for? Just move you damn legs and kick him in the fucking face! She jerked her legs up and gave a kick at his ribcage, forcing him to stumble back. The bad news about her plan was that he hadn't released himself off of her legs but while she still had the courage, she kicked at him a second time. Angry with a look that was down right scary, Mac grabbed onto her ankles, throwing her legs down with enough force to make her cry out.
"Fucking kick me again!" He dared her. "I had just about enough of you!"
The last thing Cristina remembered was a fist to her face, then nothing…