The grip about Connie's waist tightened, her arms were forced and held behind her back, she could feel her blood running cold and the prickle of pins and needles before the numbness that would surely come to her fingertips and forearms, rendering them heavy and useless should he ever let her go.

"Don't make a sound."

The request was simple. His lips were in her hair, his breath at her face, she could feel the wisps of her hair billow and stick to the dampness of his mouth where he spat them free leaving only a wet trail to slap against her neck.

She was held against the wall opposite Rita, who in turn was surrounded by the other men, illuminated only slightly from a far off street lamp behind her. To Rita she must surely only look like the black muddy outline of a shadow, nothing of comfort at all, but Connie could see her face, the light from behind her bright enough to make out the glinting pin pricks of fear within the other woman's dark eyes, the tautness of her skin, the looseness of her body and the uncontrollable tremble of her lips.

Connie watched, helpless as one of the men circled Rita, surveying her as someone who was looking around a house for sale might, really looking at her, undressing her with his eyes, smiling at what he saw, realising what he could have...

The shorter of the men, one who seemed to be on look out duty made his way through the shadows to the man who held Connie so tightly. He leant towards them and she smelled the sour scent of beer on his breath and the hot meaty stench of his sweat.

"We'd rather have this one..."

He hissed, keeping his voice low, his eyes on Connie.

"No."

The man behind her paused, leaning slightly to watch the man who circled Rita run his fingers from her to her chin, and then to her chest, grabbing at her as though she were his for the taking. But still, paralysed with fear, Rita remained silent, the only thing to give her away, to show how terrified she was, was the fact that she closed her eyes.

"This one will struggle too much. Trust me. The blonde won't."

He said simply. He spoke from experience. Connie felt sick,suddenly so violently sick that she thought she might actually vomit. Those words were all it took to make her realise that those men were going to take what they wanted from Rita, they were going to use her like whore and leave her to cope with her wrecked, bleeding body and the numbness within her mind, whether they screamed, struggled or succumbed willingly.

She swallowed, the nausea bubbled in the back of her throat, she tasted the acidic taste of bile and struggled against her own gag reflex. Opposite her Rita's knees buckled, falling without meaning to into the arms of the man who pushed his fingers into the waist band of her jeans whilst the man who had restrained her unzipped his fly. Ready.

"I'll do it."

Connie spoke before she had realised that she was going to. Her throat hurt, her mouth was dry, the skin of her lips puckered.

"What?"

The smaller man who had come to stand at their side looked at her, his head cocked, his eyes narrowed.

She felt it again, that overwhelming urge to protect Rita. She couldn't let her take the pain. She thought of Mark, of what he had done to her. Somehow Connie knew that if these men had their way, Rita would never recover.

"You can have me. If you leave her alone, you can have me, I won't fight back."

She was at the point where going forward was easier than going back. Her whole body seemed to be shaking, though her face remained emotionless. She heard murmured voices, and even though they were only inches behind her, the stifled throb of tears that ached behind her eyes and pounded within her ears kept her from hearing their words.

The man holding her hoisted her back. He shouted for the others to halt, he called for them to come near. Rita was left, leaning against the body of the man who held her tight, a smirk on his face, his eyes on the hands that now reached for Connie.

"She wants it."

Were the only words she heard, and though her breath caught with fear, she refused to close her eyes. Instead she stared right back at them, she watched their eyes as they looked her over, and when they happened to glance up at her face, they slapped her for daring to look back at them. But still she kept her eyes open.

From the wall opposite Rita watched, words caught in her throat, words that for a moment she thought could stop them, but the stab of something sharp was held against her neck and she remained silent. Even the breath she breathed was released with caution.

Through squinted eyes she watched Connie, the freckles across the other woman's nose and cheeks stood out in the light, her cheeks raw and slapped free of make up by the backs of those men's hands.

She felt her stomach lurch as they stepped closer, and though it wasn't happening to her, she felt every tug and pull of Connie's clothes as if they were her own, and when the soft white skin of her body was revealed to the night and the stars it glowed as if the moon shone on her, and her alone.

Someone pulled Connie up and pushed her against the wall, trapping her body between his and the hard brick. She wanted to scream out, every instinct told her to fight back, but she had given him her word, she had protected Rita.

His hand wrapped around her throat and he squeezed just enough to make her choke and she let out a struggled gargle of a breath that caused Rita to call out, and the man who held her neck pushed his blunt knife so hard against her skin that beads of blood, black in the dark, showed against her throat.

"You yell like that again, I'll snap your neck,"

He whispered whilst another took hold of Connie's wrists in his hands. He pushed her down onto the concrete and pinned her hands above her head with one hand. His other hand moved roughly toward her skirt, pushing it further up…up. Connie stared up into the sky, she could see the formation of Orion above her, and the clouds glowing lavender in a ring about the moon.

His hold on her wrists grew tighter. He pressed bruising kisses to her mouth, and she held in the sickness that was bubbling raw in her stomach when his tongue pushed between her lips.

Another set of hands ripped at her skirt, and as they moved closer…closer, she could feel the cool leather of his coat.

She felt him pull himself on top of her, cutting off her air supply but she concentrated on the stars, she refused to acknowledge who, or how many were touching her.

She felt his sick excuse for arousal pressing into her stomach. She struggled against crying out again as his hands ventured up her skirt once more. Instinctively she tried to close her legs, which only seemed to amuse them more.

"Fucking tease!"

Someone hissed. She could smell cigarettes, she could taste them on her own breath and it was only when she licked her lips and tasted salt that she realised she was crying.

"I'll show you what happens to women who tease!"

It was another voice, and another hand that was raised and brought to her face with a sickening slap. Her jaw began to throb in pain, and he hit her again and again. She felt a hand grab her breast, squeezing it roughly beneath the fabric of her bra.

Someone pulled her up a foot from the ground, before pushing her down, and her head made a loud thumping sound against an unidentified object, and she felt the blood beginning to flow. She touched the wound and she grew dizzy. Blood and tears stained her cheeks. She saw him come forward, and in that moment she knew what it felt to fear death.

Rita. As her legs were held apart, and the hot anonymous bodies forced themselves upon her she thought of Rita. She listened to the other woman crying, soft, inconsolable sobs in the dark. She had saved her, she thought , at least she had saved her. And when the men had taken what they wanted they simply stood up, and left, leaving only the man who held Rita to push her to her knees where he spat in her face before they disappeared and Connie rolled onto her side where she vomited on the pavement, retching into the curls of her own hair.